The veil of darkness peeled away as the witch summoned a staff—an unknown artifact inscribed with glowing green script that pulsed with a life of its own.
With a heavy thump, she struck it against the ground, and the store around them transformed. The walls melted into the shadows, replaced by an astral forest illuminated by soft, silvery moonlight.
Glowing plants of all kinds sprouted from the ground, casting an eerie, ethereal light that revealed the place's true magic. The air was thick with the scent of ancient trees and moss, and in the center of it all, a massive tree rose, towering above like a monument from the dawn of time.
The witch, with a flick of her hand, commanded the earth to split open, and in a surreal spectacle, a gnarled door appeared in the trunk of the great tree, creaking open like the entrance to some ancient sanctum.
Inside, she laid Joo-Hee's body on a table covered in layers of green-glowing scriptures that seemed to shift and breathe with an ancient magic.
The witch's eyes glinted with malice as she leaned over, her voice dripping with disdain and a twisted amusement.
"Aren't you going to greet your old friend, Leaf? Or should I use your new nickname? What was it?"
She spoke into the silence as if she were expecting someone to answer her, tilting her head in mock curiosity.
"Ah, yes... 'Escapee of the Thousand Arbor,' was it?" She chuckled, but it was a laugh born of anger, not joy.
The laughter abruptly cut off, leaving an icy silence in its wake. The witch's voice dropped, each syllable dripping with contempt and venom. "Speak now, won't you? Or should I find... creative ways to deal with your precious... little... sage... here?"
Her gaze settled on Joo-Hee, dark and calculating, and she let out a dry chuckle, almost mocking in its tone. "I never expected it, though. You, of all beings—one who witnessed the Xhennaris—to take on a disciple. How the mighty have fallen..."
She traced the air, weaving intricate patterns as if testing for a reaction. Her eyes gleamed with malicious amusement as she muttered, "A sage under your wing... yet here she—or should I say he—lies, vulnerable and unguarded."
Her gaze shifted to Joo-Hee, her lips twisting in a malicious smile. She gripped her staff tightly, a hint of satisfaction playing in her expression.
When silence persisted, her patience snapped, and her voice boomed through the forest-like space, her anger spilling over. "YOU MONGREL, SPEAK, OR I SHALL TEAR HIS SOUL!"
With a swift movement, she raised her staff and brought it down, directing a powerful strike toward Joo-Hee's lifeless form.
The moment the corrupted energy neared her, a shimmering, green barrier manifested around Joo-Hee, pulsing with mystical energy older and stronger than the witch's rage. The ancient barrier shielded her body, humming with a power that defied the witch's will.
The witch's voice grew heavy with centuries of bitterness and anticipation as she stared at the form of Joo-Hee, her eyes narrowing as she spoke, "Finally... after eons of removing your tracks, to think that fate would bring us together once again." Her voice, a whisper of ancient power, filled the air, resonating with an eerie confidence.
And then, out of the collapsed body of Joo-Hee, something extraordinary began to stir. A single leaf, delicate and intricately detailed, appeared on her temple, emanating an otherworldly aura that seemed to shift the very air around them. It glimmered with a soft, ethereal glow, and as it floated in the space, it began to speak.
"Mistress, do not dare harm even a strand of hair on the body of the key," the leaf spoke with a quiet but unmistakable fury. Its voice was pure, imbued with a deep authority that carried the weight of untold ages.
The witch's lips curled into a sneer as she responded, her voice dripping with venom. "And if I will, what can you even do, Leaf?" Her gaze was sharp, challenging the small, delicate thing before her.
The leaf, however, didn't hesitate to answer.
"Try, and I will do whatever it takes to descend into that world—even if it means I will be restrained by its very chains and be locked within that story. Don't push the boundaries, witch," the leaf snapped, its voice now carrying the full force of its wrath. "Or I will show you hell greater than the Moonlit Curse. Mark my words."
The witch froze, her eyes flashing with anger, and for a moment, she stood in stunned silence. But then, she threw her head back and laughed—a hollow, cruel sound that echoed through the astral forest.
Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she gritted her teeth as she leaned forward, her eyes locking onto the glowing leaf.
"Is this parasitic soul inside this woman's body so precious to you?" she asked, her voice low and laced with a twisted satisfaction. "How very interesting."
The leaf's tone shifted to something colder, more ancient. "He can also help you remove that leash," it replied cryptically, its words measured and deliberate. "Help him, and the escape you long for may be yours."
The witch's body stiffened at the leaf's words. Her eyes bore into the shimmering leaf, an intense focus settling over her.
"Don't you dare lie to me, Leaf," she growled, every syllable dripping with lethal intent. "If this is another one of your games, I'll see to it that he dies under my Expanse."
Her words were a warning, as cold and final as death itself, and the air in the room grew heavy with dark power, a palpable tension thickening the space. It was clear that the witch would go to any lengths to get what she desired.
But the leaf, unyielding and resolute, remained silent for a moment. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift of its aura, it responded with unwavering certainty. "You are free to try," it whispered, "but ready yourself for you will know just how far I am willing to go."
The witch's gaze lingered on the ethereal leaf, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—an acknowledgment, perhaps even a reluctant respect.
Slowly, she let out a breath and spoke with a voice that carried the weight of centuries. "I'll trust you this time, Leaf. If it's help he lacks, then it shall be help that he gets."
With those words, the leaf pulsed brightly, as if it understood the gravity of the moment. The instant it touched her, it vanished, slipping into the temple of her forehead with a quiet shimmer.
The witch, her expression now focused, turned her full attention back to Joo-Hee's body. Her fingers hovered above the girl's form, and the moment they made contact, a dark, potent energy filled the air.
The ancient, glowing scriptures on the walls of the great tree flickered and swirled around them. The witch's voice, now soft but filled with eerie power, began to chant words that no mortal tongue should ever utter—ancient syllables that hummed with a forbidden force.