The Devil's Cursed Witch

In the middle of the night, at the residence of Cornelia Grimm, the Head of the Witches.

The beautiful red-haired witch was in her bed, but instead of being in a peaceful sleep, she was restlessly tossing among her sheets. Her face wore a pained expression and her breathing shallow, her fine brows knitted on her forehead that was glistening with sweat. Her hands were clutching and tugging on the bedsheet as if she was struggling to be released from a terrible nightmare.

A rain of petals… camellia flowers…

A solemn graveyard…

Red blood flowing… someone was stabbed…

"No, no…don't…" she continued to mumble in her sleep.

The energy emitting her body was getting stronger and—

"No!"

Smash!

Shatter!

Her entire chamber turned into a chaotic mess as the vases on the table and bottles on the shelves burst into shattered pieces, waking Cornelia from her sleep. She sat up in her bed with her face looking utterly shocked, her breathing ragged as if she had gone through a hard time.

"Death?" she breathed heavily, and unknown to her, hot tears were rolling down from her eyes. "S-Someone…is going to die…someone….going…to die…" she continued mumbling and clutched on her chest as its pounding hurt. Tears continued to roll down her pale cheeks, her gaze still seeing the ominous premonition she had.

Sensing the commotion, two young witches hurried towards Cornelia's chamber. The sound of explosions was rather common for a witch when one was doing experiments in the workroom, but this time,  Silvia and Talia were alarmed by the sudden outburst of powers from their Head's bedchamber.

Inside the chamber, everything was a mess, broken glass shards were on the floor and along with pottery fragments and other unknown liquids mixed together. Even the lamps were destroyed, and it would have been pitch black inside had it not been for the feeble moonlight streaming in from the direction of the broken windows.

Amidst the ruined room, Cornelia remained seated in bed. Her appearance resembled that of a ghost, pale with large vacant eyes as her body rocked back and forth while talking to herself.

"My Lady!" the servants called out as they hurried to reach her side, "are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"Are you hurt? Can you hear us?"

"M-My lady, your eyes are bleeding! Tears of blood…Did you see something?"

"...Someone is going to die," Cornelia mumbled as her eyes stared into oblivion.

The two servants felt scared to hear her ominous words. Being apprentice witches under Cornelia's direct tutelage, they were aware that if the Head Witch had such a vivid vision then there is no way it was but a simple dream. It was a premonition of a future, and the chance of it being wrong was non-existent.

However, the message of her vision wasn't the most important for them at the moment. It would be detrimental to Cornelia's mental state if she was unable to extricate herself from her dream. They had to bring her back to her senses.

"My Lady, do you recognize me? Talk to me. What did you see in your nightmare?"

It was Silvia who spoke, the servant who always followed Cornelia, acting as her assistant and representative on many occasions.

"My Lady?"

After a couple more attempts, Cornelia finally looked at her, her bloody eyes filled with fear. "S-Silvia…death…"

Silvia held Cornelia's icy cold hand. "I hear you, my Lady. Is it a vision of a friend's death?"

But Cornelia's response remained vague and incoherent.

"...It will happen… that person will die…that person is going to—"

Cornelia repeated over and over in shock, as if had lost control over her emotions. Tears of blood rolled down from her eyes as she started to sob.

The two servants gave each other a worried look. It was rare to see Cornelia like this; in the past hundred years, the last time this happened was during the death of one of the senior witches who succumbed to her war injuries. Visions of death would only occur if the person in the vision was someone of great importance, to the point its repercussions would severely affect the destiny of an entire clan or race.

For the Head of the Witches to suddenly have such a nightmare out of the blue seemed to be an ominous sign of a death that could destroy the peace of this land.

"First, you need to get hold of yourself, my lady, so we can talk about it."

Talia, the other servant, brought water for her. "My Lady, please have a drink."

Cornelia accepted the water without much of a reaction. As she had a few sips, a bit of sanity appeared in her solemn eyes.

"My Lady, have you calmed down?"

"Give me my coat," Cornelia said all of a sudden. "I need to pay a visit to the Spirit Circle."

"The Circle? Now? It's the middle of the night, my lady," Silvia said as she went to clean the woman's face. "How about we go there first thing in the morning?"

Cornelia handed the half-full glass back to Talia, and after her face was clean of blood, she stepped out of her bed. "Since when did night and day start to matter to us witches."

With renewed determination, the red-haired woman walked towards the fallen wooden stand on one side of the room, her face unchanging as she stepped on the shards of glass and broken clay fragments on the floor. She went to get the thick winter coat hanging on the wooden stand and wore it.

Silvia immediately stood up and approached her master.

"Let me accompany you, my Lady."

The Spirit Circle was not a place that welcomed anyone other than the Head of the Witches, but Cornelia didn't say 'no' to this request. Silvia was a talented young witch who was learning things from Cornelia. Though they did not have a formal master-disciple relationship, Silvia was one of her students and among the younger generation, this black-haired witch was the one with the best character, judgment and ability. Silvia was one she was preparing for the future of their coven. It was only a matter of time for young Silvia to be introduced as her successor to the esteemed people of the Spirit Circle.

Silvia then handed over the cleaning up of the room to the other witch and left along with Cornelia.