A Sister's Vengeance
It was autumn, and the crops had ripened under a golden sun. As harvest time approached, the village brimmed with the adults’ smiles. Bountiful yields couldn’t be taken for granted, yet ever since the village chief had asked the witch who settled nearby a few years ago for her blessing, rich harvests had become the norm. Because of that, autumn in Garirill felt more like a festival than a season of labor.
Joshua’s father had enjoyed that abundance for years now. The witch had asked only one thing in return: that her presence in the village remain an absolute secret. The villagers, still half-doubtful, honored her wish while reaping the blessings of plenty she provided.
“Isn’t the Lady Witch a bad person?” Joshua asked her mother while eating, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer. “In the bedtime stories you told me, witches always tormented people.”
“Not every witch is wicked, sweetheart. Just look around. Thanks to her, we have food on the table every single day, don’t we?”
“My beloved daughter, Joshua,” her father added, picking up where her mother left off. “Never say the witch is evil, no matter where you are. Praying endlessly to that nameless god does nothing for us, but the witch has given us the means to eat like this.”
In truth, whether the witch was good or bad didn’t matter much to Joshua. She no longer had to watch her parents’ faces and eat tiny portions through the winter, and she could now warm herself by a hearth whose firewood never ran out. The witch had even helped find children who lost their way in the forest.
The adults always warned that going too deep into the woods meant being devoured by monsters, but a few boys had boasted they could defeat any monster and promptly gotten themselves lost. As the sun set and the men, including Joshua’s father, rushed about with torches searching for the children, the witch appeared with the moonlight at her back, gently holding the lost boys’ hands.
“You foolish child! Where have you been?!”
“Daddy~!!!”
The father’s scolding and the child’s tearful cries brought relief to the entire village. Meanwhile, the chief approached the witch and bowed deeply.
“It was noisy near my home, so I stepped out and found the children crying. I brought them back.”
“How can we ever thank you enough…”
“There’s no need for thanks. Though I must admit, I’m running low on the herbs I mentioned before.”
“Of course. We’ll prepare them right away.”
The sight of the witch leaving the village after the chief’s profound bow felt nothing like the frightening tales Joshua’s mother told at bedtime. Instead, she seemed mysterious, almost like a fairy. That impression wasn’t Joshua’s alone; the other girls her age felt the same.
“When I grow up, I’m going to become a witch!”
Whenever Joshua helped the other children with laundry by the stream, she often heard that same dream spoken aloud. The adults would force bitter smiles, unsure whether to scold the children or stay silent. Rumors about witches were rarely kind. Stories circulated of villages cursed with premature aging for offending a witch, or entire kingdoms struck by famine. Even though this particular witch had only ever helped, and no one had ever been harmed, some villagers began whispering that she might actually be a mountain spirit rather than a witch.
As time passed, talk of the witch grew more frequent among the adults. Conversations about her appearance, in particular, became favorite tavern fodder for the men.
“If I were just ten years younger…”
“Could you even satisfy a woman like that? Kahaha!”
In the village’s only inn and tavern, crude jokes about the witch were common. The more the men talked, the worse the women’s opinion of her became. Wives lived in fear that their husbands might one day slip away to the witch’s side.
Some suggested driving the witch out of the village. But a suitable excuse never came. She had never harmed anyone, and the fertilizer she provided promised bountiful crops. Contrary to the women’s worries, no man had actually grown intimate with her. Their talk was nothing but empty boasting.
Yet there was always an exception. Tony, the boy whose mind had been damaged by a head injury in childhood, left the village to confess his feelings to the witch. It happened while his only family, his sister Rebecca, was away earning money.
The villagers searched the forest, but they found no trace of him. “Rebecca, are you certain Tony went to see the witch?”
“He talked about her every single day, so there’s no mistake!”
Late into the night, long after the moon had climbed high, the villagers still held onto the hope that the witch would appear and bring Tony back, just as she had with the lost children before.
“Don’t worry. Tony will return safely.”
They comforted Rebecca while quietly believing the witch would once again solve everything. Only Rebecca trembled with anxiety, praying desperately to the witch, to the nameless god, to anyone who might listen.
Tony is gone, I’ll have to live alone in this world. Please… please let my brother live.
The moon set. The next day came, but neither the witch nor Tony appeared.
The witch had killed Tony.
Everyone knew the rumor’s source, yet the villagers tried to hush it up. After days of searching, they found only a pitiful pile of bones that had clearly been gnawed by monsters. The proof that those remains belonged to Tony was the silver ring Rebecca had scraped and saved to buy him for his birthday; it still clung to one skeletal finger.
The witch would never have killed him, but Rebecca chose to believe she had. Even if monsters were truly responsible, the root cause was still the witch, because the witch had seduced her brother. Rebecca turned her back on the entire world.
Despite the villagers’ concern, she refused to leave the house, clutching the silver ring and weeping day after day. A dark cloud settled over Garirill. The witch rarely appeared in the village anymore, but no one could predict what Rebecca might do if she did. If Rebecca tried to harm the witch…
The chief, who never wanted to return to the days of poverty, ordered the young men to watch over Rebecca and attend to her needs so she wouldn’t do anything reckless. A few voices protested that coddling that girl was wrong.
“Just look at the mood in the village right now. How long must the entire community stay on edge because of one girl named Rebecca?”
Joshua’s father voiced his dissatisfaction to the chief.
“Watch your tongue. Think of your own daughter. This could happen to any of us.”
“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just get rid of the witch? The reason we have rich harvests every year isn’t because of her power. It’s because we work ourselves to the bone.”
“Honestly, many of the women are tired of gathering herbs to give to that witch.”
“I’ve heard the Holy Kingdom has begun hunting witches in earnest. If word gets out that we cooperated with one…”
More people opposed the chief than expected.
“Everyone, be quiet. My decision has not changed.” The chief stamped his staff against the ground to command attention. “The Lady Witch has nothing to do with this incident. Go home and keep your families quiet. What happened to Rebecca was simply a tragic accident. Time will heal her pain.”
There is no pain time cannot heal. He knew that from his own past. As one grew older, even the deepest wounds would dull. He hoped Rebecca would soon forget her sorrow over Tony.
But time did not wait long enough for the village to heal.
The village suddenly grew busy. A long merchant caravan whose end could not be seen approached from the horizon. The trade goods piled high on the wagons caught every child’s eye. Joshua’s own eyes sparkled as she stared at the unfamiliar treasures.
Garirill lay along one of the trade routes between the Verdi Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom. Normally it would have been too poor to be chosen as a stop, but in recent years its annual bountiful harvests had turned it into land blessed by the gods.
Merchants, by nature, chased profit. Barum, master of the Verdandi Merchant Guild, had grown rich through trade between the Verdi Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom. Until last year he had used sea routes, but strange and ominous rumors about the ocean had reduced available ships, forcing him to find a safe land path. Because he was transporting several times the usual volume of goods to celebrate the hundred-year alliance between the two nations, he had to proceed with the utmost caution.
While gathering advice from fellow merchants, adventurers, explorers, and pilgrims, he learned about the blessed village of Garirill.
“What about this place?”
“You mean Garirill, the land of blessings? Until a few years ago it was a poor rural village, but now it produces rich harvests every year. Not a bad choice at all.”
Traveling with such a large caravan required enormous amounts of food. Carrying too many supplies would slow them down, so stopping in Garirill to resupply was perfectly timed.
The village erupted into an unprecedented festival. The chief had never seen a large merchant caravan before; only the occasional wanderer had passed through. The streets became cheerfully chaotic.
“How do you manage rich harvests every single year?”
“Haha, it must be the blessing of the nameless god.”
The villagers kept the witch’s existence strictly secret. The merchants pestered them, asking if they used some special technique, but when the entire village kept invoking the god, there was nothing more they could say. After all, who could argue against divine blessing?
Barum noticed the villagers exchanging uncomfortable glances and sensed there was more to the story, but he chose not to dig deeper. With the Holy Kingdom’s witch hunts growing fiercer lately, it was unlikely they were borrowing a witch’s power. And it would be foolish to kill the goose that laid golden eggs just to satisfy his curiosity.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Guild Master, a young woman from the village wishes to see you.”
“What does she want?”
Barum had just settled into a rather nice room the chief had arranged when an unexpected visitor arrived.
“She… she insists on speaking with you directly. She wouldn’t tell me the details.”
“What does she look like?”
“Quite beautiful.”
“Let her in.”
He wasn’t particularly pleased, but a maiden seeking him out at this hour, and a pretty one at that, was not a bad prospect. Barum grew intrigued the moment the door opened. The girl’s eyes were red as if she had been crying, and her somewhat gaunt appearance stirred a protective instinct. Her small face was uncommon in a rural village; even without makeup she would have been considered lovely.
“Thank you for granting me an audience, Guild Master. My name is Rebecca.”
“I am Barum. It’s late, so I’ll ask directly. What is your business?”
“I’ve come to make a deal.”
Rebecca reached into the cleavage she had carefully pushed up within her worn corset and pulled out a single letter. Barum sensed something fierce in her expression. Women with nothing left to lose often turned their entire bodies into weapons.
“This letter—”
“It doesn’t matter who. Please deliver it to the most devout believer in the Holy Kingdom you know.”
“Do you even know who I might give this to?”
“I heard from your guild members during the day. They said the Guild Master is so well-connected in the Holy Kingdom that everyone knows your name, and that your faith is deep.”
Barum took the crumpled letter and weighed whether it would bring him profit or poison. “You called it a deal. What do I receive in return?”
Rebecca removed the silver ring from her thumb and placed it on the wooden shelf.
“Hmm… I’m not sure one ring is enough for this kind of transaction.”
Rebecca smiled at his words. She had never expected the ring alone would suffice.
“Then what is the most precious thing a maiden possesses?”
Slowly, she loosened her clothes. Standing naked, she awkwardly attempted to seduce him.
“I’m sure it will feel good.”
After whispering those tickling words into Barum’s ear, Rebecca closed her eyes. She simply wanted the night, guided by a man’s lustful hands, to pass as quickly as possible. It no longer mattered that her flower was being plucked. What value could a world without Tony possibly hold?
My poor little brother.
Just wait a little longer. I’ll follow you soon so you won’t be lonely.
Rebecca hanged herself.
It was less than a week after the caravan had left the village. The funeral was held quickly. Per her will, she was buried beside Tony’s grave. Joshua tilted her head at the gloomy atmosphere that had taken over the village. She didn’t fully understand what it meant to hang oneself. While her mother looked sad during meals and her father laughed, saying it was for the best, Joshua couldn’t decide whether she should feel sad or relieved.
Her father had once told her that the brother and sister, who had slept in a pigsty with no home, had been so pitiful that the villagers pooled their strength to build them a house. Rebecca had been a kind older sister who took on all the village’s dirty work after losing their parents, looked after her brother, and handed out snacks to the children. The thought that she would never see Sister Rebecca again left Joshua feeling only a quiet sense of loss.
To Joshua, Rebecca’s death carried no heavier meaning than that.
“Joshua, come here.”
The next day, after her father left for work, Joshua’s mother took her hand and led her up a small hill. They carried white flowers and arrived at two small stone graves. Other people must have visited already; white flowers were neatly arranged around the graves. Between them grew a single beautiful pale violet bloom.
“Mom, what is that flower?”
Even Joshua’s mother did not know the name of the flower blooming beside the graves. She had never wondered about it before. Flowers that occasionally appeared on graves or animal carcasses instinctively repulsed the living. Telling Joshua the truth about that instinctive aversion while they were here to say farewell felt like it might harm the child.
“That is Rebecca and Tony’s farewell greeting.”
“A farewell greeting? To whom?”
“To the person they loved.”
“Then Sister Rebecca and Brother Tony are saying goodbye to each other?”
“That’s right.”
“What if someone doesn’t have a person they love?”
Children sometimes asked sharp, fundamental questions. Pure curiosity shone in those wide eyes. One day Joshua might have a child of her own and need to answer the same thing. Her mother knelt to match Joshua’s height and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“People always love, Joshua. Even when you wander without realizing it, even when you feel lonely, never forget this. Mom loves you this much.”
Something warm tickled Joshua’s heart inside her mother’s arms.
“Does Joshua love Mom too?”
“Yes, Mom! I love you so much! And Dad too!”