Priscilla's Final Spell

From a very young age, Priscilla, the witch of the final spell, had always feared death. Perhaps since the moment she was born. The terror of death clung to her relentlessly—the eternal silence, the chill of a cooling body, the biological shutdown of lungs spewing fluid and arteries gushing blood. She couldn't define death precisely, but it was clear she dreaded that hazy scythe of the reaper.

So she created this spell. One that couldn't evade death itself, but allowed life to continue for one more day after it. A ragged patchwork of ripping the soul free and stitching it into another body. And thus, on the day she finally succeeded in activating the spell for the first time...

'Did the spell fail? Why can't I see anything?'

"Lady Iris. Are you alright? You must be careful. Even though you can't see..."

"Ah."

Priscilla awoke in the body of a blind woman. And, surprisingly enough...

'Haha! It worked! Being blind is a shame, but there's no helping it!'

At that moment, Priscilla was overjoyed by the fact. Enough to hope she'd live out a full lifespan in that body and die of old age.

And yet.

A witch's expectations never turn out as planned.

The witch's first spell ended in horrific failure. It was due to a fire. A massive inferno swallowed the village where the blind woman lived, and in her sightless body, she couldn't escape alone. There had always been a kind village girl by the blind woman's side to guide her. But that girl, in trying to save her, rushed into the flames and died pointlessly.

'From now on, if I possess a body with disabilities, I'll just die. Suicide is scary... but no need to cling to life in a broken body, right?'

The next body she possessed belonged to a girl plagued by lung disease, coughing endlessly. She didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠live to a ripe old age in that life either. The plague took her. There was a doctor who cared for the girl devotedly, but he caught the plague himself while tending to her until the end and died.

'In the next life, if the lungs are diseased, just die. Dying is... still scary.'

After that, the witch failed time and again. No talent for mana? Die. Poor eyesight? Die. Has family? Die. With each death, the fear faded slightly, while her thirst for a natural lifespan grew endlessly.

But as if cursed by the gods for daring to seek forbidden immortality...

She never once enjoyed a full lifespan. A peaceful death, smiling quietly in bed as she drifted off, was denied her.

'......'

She didn't want to die. Dying terrified her. Truthfully, she didn't even want to commit suicide. At first. But gradually, the fear dimmed, leaving only a gnawing thirst like worms crawling in her gut. She thought it would stay that way forever.

— "Wake Up! Prisabi! Time to get up!"

"...Ah. Is it morning already?"

That was until she met that passionate, muscle-bound macho man—Gigachad.

Priscilla had become an ordinary girl who feared death once more. But somehow, she didn't hate that fear. Because it made her realize how much she loved this life, precisely because death loomed.

— "Yeah. A miraculous—"

"A miraculous morning, right? Get up, stretch, drink some water, take a walk—that's what you were gonna say."

— "Haha!"

In the pitch-black world of her blindness, only Gigachad's form remained vivid. Gigachad guided Priscilla to the door. She carefully climbed out of bed and walked slowly toward it. It was frightening with nothing in sight, but she trusted Gigachad and stepped forward.

— "You Fucking Asshole. Don't trust me—trust yourself."

"I don't get it. You're just a hallucination at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠best—how are you even finding the way?"

— "I'm not just any hallucination. I'm Gigachad. Do some hard training, and you'll navigate easier than eating cake. Awaken the power sleeping inside you. Feel the sounds and temperatures, recall the distance to the door you know, and your own stride."

"Aah, that's annoying. Just keep guiding me, Gigachad. You're gonna be with me forever, closer than my own heart, right?"

— "I can't walk for you."

"But you can push my back, yeah?"

Priscilla chuckled and opened the door, stepping outside. Gigachad watched her with a disapproving expression but kindly continued guiding her.

— "Fuck. Careful. There's a cabinet ahead."

"Thanks."

— "Helping you is this Gigachad's joy, My Daughter."

She was truly... grateful. Perhaps the greatest achievement of the spell she researched was meeting this Gigachad. Priscilla thought so, for a moment.

......

Over time, Priscilla mastered living as a blind woman. The sound of wind swirling against objects, subtle temperature shifts, the feel of hairs on her skin—she could dodge obstacles with those alone. She could spread faint mana like threads to outline shapes. And using a technique called echolocation, she clicked her tongue to map the terrain and never lose her way.

"I really could do it after all."

— "Of Course. Told you, didn't I? Prisabi's potential is infinite. You could always walk alone."

Now Priscilla could walk without Gigachad's help. She strode confidently to her mother's bedroom door and flung it open, calling out brightly with a big smile.

"Mom! It's morning! Time to get up!"

"...Oh my, already morning?"

"Yes! A miraculous morning!"

"Heehee. I see. Every day feels like a miracle."

Priscilla plopped down on her mother's bed. Her mother smiled and stroked her hair. It was a picture-perfect, harmonious daily life. Sunlight filtering through the skylight, the soft texture of the worn bed, the gentle atmosphere between mother and daughter—everything was ideally perfect. The two sat together on the bed for a long while. Even the golden sunflower scent, out of season, seemed to bless them—

"......Huh?"

...Sunflower?

In that instant, Priscilla poured every ounce of her faint mana to shield her mother. It happened instinctively, without thought. That hated sunflower. The scent of those sun-following wretches. The ones who had killed the great witch Priscilla countless times. Who burned her village. Collapsed her hut. Severed her lifeline—her mortal enemies.

A massive explosion like thunder. A shockwave rattling her body. Horrific darkness where she couldn't see an inch ahead. The hut's wall crumbled. And from beyond, a man's voice rang out.

"The smell of herbs, frogs, and bugs... The stench of a witch."

Her head spun from the impact. Forcing out mana made her lungs spew blood. She felt nothing. Where was she now? Mom? Was Mom okay?

'Gigachad....... I smell blood....... Mom's scent is gone....... Is Mom okay......? I'm so scared......'

— "Prisabi."

'I feel nothing....... My head's spinning......'

In that moment, something warm and soft enveloped her. Priscilla shed tears. Because it was so warm, because she felt sorry, because her body couldn't return the embrace. And because she had ruined all this happiness in the end.

A witch shouldn't wish for happiness. A witch shouldn't live among people. A witch's end is death alone. In the old tales her mother told, the witch always met a gruesome fate, boiled in a cauldron.

"Mom....... I'm sorry......"

"It's okay....... My daughter....... Nothing will happen......"

Her mother comforted the sobbing Priscilla. Then the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hero spoke.

"What touching maternal love. Becoming a witch at such a young age is tragic... but it won't spare you. You reek of corpses. You've surely tortured and killed several people."

— "You Fucking Asshole! What are you sitting there for? Get up!"

'I can't....... Gigachad......'

Gigachad scowled and bellowed, but Priscilla only trembled in fear. Like a child, like a girl, huddled on the ground.

But at Gigachad's next words, clarity hit her like cold water.

— "So you'll die with your mother?"

'Yeah. Mom. I have to save Mom at least.'

In that instant, Priscilla shoved her mother ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away roughly and stood. She pulled her lips into the widest grin. As if the situation was utterly ridiculous. She shook off her mother's grasping hand.

"Haha... Jumping into danger to save a witch like me? How absurd."

"Priscilla?"

"Not knowing I'm the enemy who killed your real daughter and stole her body..."

Her unsteady body planted firmly. Blind eyes glared at the hero.

"Thanks to you, noble hero, my fun role-play is over? What now?"

"Hah, indeed. So that's how it was. Truly an evil villain. Using a girl's mother as a shield to protect yourself."

"Priscilla, what are you..."

"Shut up! Still think I'm your daughter? You clueless bitch..."

Priscilla stepped forward. Like a witch fearless of death. Like a demon scorning her own life. Facing the hero squarely, she drew a faint thread of mana from her heart and activated her final spell.

The hero's proclamation and the witch's incantation rang out together.

"Witch. By ancient law, hear whom you die by."

It was the final spell declaring the end of her witchhood. A forbidden art sacrificing all knowledge boiled in the cauldron. The moment she used it, she lost all witch powers. That was what "final" meant.

And in life's last moments, the spell's effect—to die not as a witch, but as a person—was—

"The hero chosen by the gods of justice and seasons is—"

"Aldes Prohiden."

To be erased from the memory of the one she loved.

Priscilla smiled joyfully as she wiped herself from her mother's memory, and the hero's sword swung toward the witch's neck.

'Yes, this is it.'

Thus, the hero's sword sliced across Priscilla's neck—but—

"......Huh?"

— "Shh."

Priscilla didn't die. Her head remained attached to her body.

"A fitting end for such an evil witch."

Soon after, the hero, convinced the witch was dead, departed. Priscilla, frozen in place, collapsed limply to the floor.

And in the darkness, she blankly stared at Gigachad grinning ear to ear.

"Gigachad...?"

— "You'd have died without that spell. The witch's scent wouldn't have vanished. Heroes don't miss the smell of evil from miles away."

"What are you...?"

— "Asking another dumb question? You know. I'm your inner self. Your potential."

"......"

No way. If 'that' was truly just a hallucination in her mind, the hero wouldn't have simply left.

— "Miracles happen sometimes in this world. And that's what you're curious about now? Don't you have something to do?"

"Ah!"

Priscilla rushed desperately to her mother. Embracing the fainted woman from the spell's backlash, she confirmed the wounds weren't severe and finally relaxed. Exhaustion overtaking her, Priscilla leaned her head on her mother's body and collapsed. In her fading consciousness, only Gigachad's voice rang clear.

— "I didn't really believe you'd change... but you altered your fate yourself, My Daughter. Don't forget that feeling now, and you'll become a better person. Time to walk on your own from here."

And when Priscilla awoke again...

"Gigachad...?"

No longer could she see Gigachad in her sight.