Over the next two days, Christine's condition showed signs of improvement, but she was still as cold as ice. Her sleep grew more peaceful, and color began to return to her cheeks. Mr. Hawthorne's careful administration of nourishing broth seemed to invigorate her.
However, there were moments of distress that punctuated her newfound peace. She would awaken with a start, her eyes wide with terror, as she described vivid visions of otherworldly beings and nightmarish landscapes. Mr. Hawthorne and I would exchange concerned glances, our worry for her well-being deepening with each episode.
Now, I'm beginning to suspect that she might be cursed.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, Mr. Hawthorne turned to me with a furrowed brow. "Masha, may I speak with you?"
"Of course, sir. What is it?" I replied, looking at him unblinkingly. For him, however, there was no need to be formal and polite; he always addressed me informally when we were alone. He was my mentor, so it felt natural to be informal with him. Even though it might come off as silly to the outside observer, I actually cared very deeply for my employer, and being so close to him felt like an important part of my life. I had grown accustomed to him calling me Masha because that is what other people called me when we worked together. Although he had never said anything explicitly like that to me, I knew it meant something entirely different.
He regarded me with a mixture of caution and concern. He spoke in a low voice. "Masha, have you been practicing magic?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned with confusion, trying to keep my tone as level and nonchalant as possible.
He shrugged slightly but otherwise didn't appear overly troubled. "Well," he mused slowly, running a finger under his nose, "I suppose it's possible you've already done some magic. You're quite good at it."
I hesitated before responding. But I trusted him with all my heart, especially since I have been working for him for almost two years now. "I have," I admitted hesitantly. "I have been studying healing magic in secret. I believed that there might be ways to aid you in your work." I paused, feeling somewhat unsure about continuing to talk. "But I haven't done much yet. Only some things, really."
For a second, Mr. Hawthorne studied my face in silence. Eventually, he sighed softly and leaned back, crossing his arms loosely across his chest. His gaze held a complex blend of emotions—surprise, understanding, and a hint of apprehension. "I see. You must be careful, young lady. The laws against magic have become even stricter in recent times. Practitioners are being hunted down and prosecuted."
My heart sank at his words, a heavy reminder of the risks I was taking. "I understand, Mr. Hawthorne. But I couldn't stand by and do nothing, especially when I have the knowledge to potentially help." I frowned slightly. "And why are they after people with magical powers? Surely the laws are unfair and unjust. They can't punish us for trying to help others!"
Mr. Hawthorne smiled sadly, gazing at the ground momentarily before returning his gaze to mine. "It isn't exactly fair, is it?" There was an edge of resignation to his words as he said those words. In his expression lay an underlying sadness as well. "People can be greedy and selfish. Most don't think beyond themselves, and they often take advantage of others when it benefits them most. But magic can be used for good, and it can even help people who need it," he explained. "If it is used in the right ways, it can even serve to heal."
I bit my lip slightly in thought. I couldn't imagine anyone using the power of magic for evil. Magic wasn't an inherently bad thing. It is the highest science in the universe, and just like knowledge, it can be used for good or bad purposes. But such power can also be incredibly dangerous to an immature practitioner. So many lives have already been lost because of its misuse. I wondered what else could possibly go wrong with using magic. Was it too much temptation? Was I going to get addicted to the power and start acting irrationally like a madman?
Mr. Hawthorne's expression softened, and he placed a hand on my shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. "Your dedication to healing is admirable. Just promise me that you will exercise caution. The path you've chosen is a dangerous one." He hesitated. "You know that, don't you? I don't want to see you get hurt."
I nodded silently. I had already heard the same warning a number of times since becoming a novice. It still hadn't quite sunk in, but I knew that there were things that could happen in this world that were beyond human comprehension. Still, I was determined to continue pursuing my studies, even if it meant putting myself in danger.
My gaze met his. "I promise, Mr. Hawthorne, I'll be careful."
*****
The next day, I went to find the silver lotus again, this time on a different side of the mountain. Mr. Hawthorne told me to search for it again since it could cure Christine completely. It was only four in the afternoon, so I didn't worry about any hermit witches attacking me. The dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves above, casting playful shadows on the ground. My boots crunched on fallen leaves and twigs as I walked, my eyes scanning the forest floor for any signs of the silver lotus.
The forest seemed alive with a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves, creating a soothing melody that accompanied my every step. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs a symphony of nature's beauty. The air was tinged with the earthy scent of moss and pine, a refreshing aroma that invigorated my senses.
As I walked, my heart was filled with a sense of purpose. The previous encounter with the hermit witches had not deterred me; if anything, it had fueled my determination to find the rare plant. I knew the risks, but I was willing to brave them for the sake of Christine's well-being.
The forest was a tapestry of colors, with vibrant wildflowers dotting the landscape with their cheerful hues. A delicate butterfly danced on the breeze, its wings a flash of orange and black as it fluttered from flower to flower. I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of nature.
As I ventured deeper into the woods, the forest canopy grew denser, creating a cool and shaded retreat from the sun. The air was cooler here, a refreshing respite from the heat of the day. The forest seemed to envelop me in its embrace, and I felt a profound sense of connection to the natural world around me.
The silver lotus was not a lotus but a white blossom with one hundred-eight small petals. Interestingly, the petals were almost transparent, and the size was quite small. So searching for a transparent and small blossom was difficult, even for those who had excellent vision. Plus, silver lotuses were endangered because some companies searched for them to make long-lasting perfumes.
After walking for half an hour, a glint of silver caught my eye, nestled amidst a cluster of vibrant plants. My heart quickened as I crouched down to examine the delicate blossom. Its translucent petals shimmered like moonlight on water, and its ethereal beauty left him breathless. I reached out and plucked the silver lotus.
With the silver lotus secured, I turned my attention to the path ahead. I felt that I was being watched, but I guess that might be some animal.
But as I walked, something caught my eye—a mysterious door, half hidden beneath a curtain of overgrown plants. It was weathered and worn, its surface etched with intricate designs that seemed to tell a story of ages past.
I stared at it for a moment. I had heard of stories where treasures were hidden in the forest, usually inside the underground tunnels built by the enemies who once invaded our land centuries ago. However, other stories revealed that such tunnels did not contain any treasures but powerful curses placed by the witches who were once being hunted down in this country. Some of them hid their magical tools in these tunnels.
I hesitated, unsure whether to approach the door. I didn't have any clue how dangerous it might be. I was excited to find some treasures if they existed; it could certainly help me and my family, who lived far from the city. But I suddenly thought that if there were any curses in the tunnel instead, my amulet would protect me from them.
After carefully placing the plant in my bag, I approached the door. My fingers brushed against the vines, feeling their rough texture as I cleared them away. I grasped the worn handle and pulled the door open, revealing a dark and mysterious passage that seemed to lead into the very heart of the earth.
The air grew cool and damp as I stepped into the tunnel, the soft echo of my footsteps filling the space around me. Guided by an unshakable curiosity, I ventured deeper.
The tunnel was pitch-dark, though. No trace of light managed to penetrate the suffocating darkness.
I delved into my bag, my hands methodically rummaging through its contents, searching for the magical crystal I owned. I would try to create fire using a magical concentration method with the help of that stone.
When I finally found it, I closed my eyes and focused on what little magic I did know. I focused on the darkness around me and visualized a small fire emanating from the crystal.
As if responding to my command, the crystal began to emit a soft, ethereal orange light that danced and flickered like fireflies in the darkness, casting a warm and comforting glow that banished the shadows and illuminated my path forward.
My eyes hungrily searched for valuable items in the tunnel. So far, my amulet did not feel hot; therefore, the curse was probably untrue.
As I walked for some minutes, I could not see any treasure I could bring or sell. What I saw were pieces of wood, a pile of leaves and dirt, and some metal scraps—nothing more. It was almost nighttime, so I had to hurry up. I'll look for a few more minutes, and if I find nothing, I'll leave.
As I ventured deeper into the tunnel, the air grew heavy, and an unsettling odor assaulted my senses. I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat, before my gaze settled on a macabre sight that sent a shiver down my spine. Human skeletons, long forgotten by the world above, lay strewn across the cold, damp floor. They had been left there to rot after some ancient, cruel ritual had been performed on them. Their bones were all twisted into unnatural positions due to what must have been years of torment. Some were completely severed from their limbs; others wore only a piece of bone that served as their torso; and still others had no clothing at all. The skulls seemed broken out from the inside—some with shards jutting out of them, some not even cracked open—and all of them looked at me with hollow eyes that bore no emotion whatsoever.
As I moved cautiously through the tunnel, I noticed several other things. At first, I was confused and thought I must be dreaming. It didn't take me long to realize it had happened; that something had taken place here many centuries ago, and that whatever had occurred, it had been very bad. A shudder crawled up my spine. Whatever this was, it was clearly not human.
Summoning my courage, I forced my gaze away from the gruesome scene and turned my attention toward the end of the tunnel. There, partially concealed by the shadows, stood another door. Its surface was worn and weathered, bearing the scars of time and neglect. A flicker of anticipation ignited within me.
Perhaps it led to a place where hidden treasures awaited, ready to be discovered. Or maybe in a different part of the mountain, where I might find medicinal plants. If the tunnel had such secrets, wouldn't I be lucky enough to stumble upon one if I found it? Perhaps it was worth taking a detour just to find it. But then again, who would willingly leave behind riches such as these, knowing well what they contained?
"Just five more minutes," I whispered to myself. "Do you hear anything? Feel anything?" I glanced at my amulet, almost as if it could respond. Silently, I continued my cautious journey through the tunnel, my steps and breaths the only sounds in the stillness. I hummed my practiced mantra, a ritual that now felt like second nature. Unlike before, I wasn't singing to calm my nerves; this time, it was about sharpening my focus. This was enough to steady my mind, keeping me alert and determined as I ventured deeper into the darkness.