Red-Eyed Witch

II. LAND OF CYNTHIA

Snow-white hair flowed behind the small child's back, a reminder of how cold and barren lands become during winter. It flowed behind her back like a heavy burden too heavy for one child to bear. And just like the unforgiving season, the little girl could feel nothing but the cold feeling only loneliness could offer.

Everyone cast her away like a savage animal only because of her peculiar features. A witch, a monster, whatever they spout, she soaked it all up albeit unwillingly, having no power to change their beliefs of her. She is avoided, treated like an infectious disease every time she steps out of her home — a place that sometimes felt like a prison when she is feeling overwhelmed — it did not take long for the little girl to lose herself, painting herself as the witch that everyone thought of. And as the world caved in she cursed them with burning hatred and wished death upon them.

It was and is still lonely the longer she ran away, searching for an escape. Desperate for a sense of belonging, craving the sensation of being loved and wanted, the white-haired girl befriended a fox with golden fur — the only existence that did not find her repulsive. It gazed at her with curiosity reflected in its eyes, but there was no contempt that can be traced in them. Neither was adoration, but Illya preferred it that way. Any more of their hateful gazes and she might just give in fully.

"Will you be my friend?" She asked with her voice meek and her lower lip trembling. It was almost as if the poor girl was afraid of rejection despite knowing such an animal does not possess the intellect of a human being.

It only stared, its vertically slit pupils filled with wonder — it was a look she always got, but always in a negative light. The girl smiled, but the tears that streamed down her face betrayed any traces of joy and any traces of hope. At least, this little one allowed her to hug it.

She retreated to the dark corners of her mind, believing what everyone believed. The darkness is treated as something terrifying by the others, but not Illya. The pitch-black void has become her second home. It was a flaw in her part, and yet it is all she hears and sees — with her damaged hearing and with her eyes turning blind, the white-haired girl failed to see the weeping of the ones that raised her.

Unfortunately, the girl failed to see that her silent cries for help were heard by someone with charming sea-green eyes. If only she heard him too as he called desperately for her in the light, but he is not about to give up anytime soon. He will keep on calling until she hears, otherwise, what kind of friend would he be?

"Illya," a voice filled with so much tenderness cradled her as it called, filling her with a familiar sense of comfort. Warmth blossomed in her chest like a flower in spring, filling in the void left by years of torment. Illya cannot fathom why the voice and the feeling it gave is so familiar. It was as if whoever they were, there is no doubt that she means so much to them. Did she have someone like this? Why can't she recall?

And then it hit her. Ah...I am already dead.

Flashbacks of a honking car and the putrid stench of blood have Illya reeling at the memory. Now that she is given a moment to let everything sink in, Illya is sure someone did push her. And the only one close enough to do that to her at that time was Dauphine, her supposedly best friend — as much as Illya denies the fact.

But what does it matter? The girl thought dejectedly. Illya can never confirm her suspicion nor confront Dauphine if proven true.

Is that why she dreamt of a past that she had never recalled of ever happening? Illya could not help but think, judging by the miserable vision, that no matter which life she lives, her pitiful fate will always show her no mercy.

"Then let us change your fate, mold it into any shape your heart desires."

There is that voice again, one that was so achingly familiar. Who are you?

But it did not answer.

Just when Illya thought of what will happen to her from here on out — the girl feared that she would be punished, forced to float inside a dark prison for all eternity with her consciousness still intact until she gradually goes crazy — a bright light swallowed the pitch-black void that surrounded her. 

The said girl jolted up from her slumber, she could feel the large beads of sweat rolling down on the side of her head. It did not take long for Illya’s vision to become clear, and she finds herself inside an unfamiliar room, with a space twice the size of the room she owns back in her home. After the incident with the speeding car, Illya is fairly sure she is not back home — this looked far from home for her anyway. This place could also not be a hospital as well judging by how pink and lavender everything is.

The indescribable pain, the numbness she felt afterward, the horrid stench of her own blood pooling around her, and the cries of what she hoped was Dauphine, it all felt too real to be a dream. So why is she still breathing?

Illya pinched her cheeks hard and immediately regretted the action as it sent electric jolts of pain throughout her body. Aside from the pain, Illya got out of the soft bed she was seated on, only for a shiver to run down her spine the moment her feet landed on the cold tiled floor.

"There is no mistake, I am actually alive!" Illya exclaimed to herself with such awe and disbelief. Her eyes roamed her surroundings, squinting only when all she could find was the color pink. Although the girl does love the color, but so do other pastel colors. The bed is placed on the right side of the room, parallel to the wooden door. At the foot of the bed was a wooden cabinet, large enough to fit her in. And when Illya opened it to take a peek, freely dresses and undergarments greeted her. The girl wrinkled her nose at the weird choice of fashion whoever the owner of these has. It was as if they were living in a fantasy setting with princesses wearing frilly dresses and princes wearing capes. At the far right was the bathroom door and just left near it is a full-sized mirror.

Reflected on the mirror is unmistakably her. Her hair still remained the color of the cold snow, and her pair of eyes are still as red as blood.

“Is this the purgatory?” Illya muttered to herself and would have continued making conclusions as to what is happening to her if it weren’t for the loud knocking on the door.

“Lady Illya?” A low, breathy voice with a slight drawl reached the girl’s ears. There is a distinct huskiness in the voice that Illya is familiar with, and it’s enough to have her scrambling for the door, hastily opening it.

“Good! You are already awake!” A boy who stood at least a foot and a half taller than her with short, messy blonde hair and sea-green eyes, stood outside the doorway, an unmistakable teasing smirk plastered on his lips.

“Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?” Illya blurted, her tone accusing and her eyes narrowed. It was obvious she was disappointed by the way her gaze downcasted, refusing to look at the stranger. While it is true that his voice struck a chord, his face remained unfamiliar to Illya. She almost wanted to ask whether they’d met each other before but the flash of hurt on green eyes made her hesitate — although the said emotion left no traces of ever being there so Illya isn’t entirely sure, that maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her.

Instead, the blonde furrowed his brows and looked at her like she had grown two heads. “Are you serious? With your reputation among the kingdom, it would be impossible to not know your name.”

Kingdom? Illya thought, bewildered. Like in those novels and animes with fantasy settings? The white-haired girl stared at the man in front of her, her eyes as wide as saucers, each pool of red brimming with both curiosity and confusion.

“Wait, my lady, have you actually forgotten? Did you hit your head very hard on something? Or...” Oz gasped dramatically, a hand clamped on his mouth as if he was in shock. "Could it be that someone harmed you while I was not looking?!"

Weirded out, Illya gave him a glare. "That is just not possible. I can recall no such thing." But then I can recall nothing at all.

"Yeah," the boy agreed as his shoulders sagged. "That would be impossible with me guarding you every minute in every hour," he declared with a smile.

"You sound like a stalker," Illya said with a face that Oz could only tell as disgust. The blonde male immediately took offense and jutted his bottom lip out.

"I said guarding, milady, not stalking. Please learn the difference before accusing me of doing something so inappropriate." Oz's face scrunched in one of disgust, mirroring Illya's previous expression. The girl rolled her eyes at how overly dramatic he was being in their first meeting, or at least it was a first for her since he claimed to have known her for a long time now.

With her patience thinning, the white-haired girl asked: "Where am I?" And before the blonde youth could respond, Illya's brows jumped and in an overwhelming confusion, pushed past the stranger.

Illya is greeted with massive halls, a long red carpet inlaid on the floor, and portraits made of tapestries hanging on the walls. Brass pillars designed to hold ceramic vases with flowers Illya had never seen before are lined on one side, a decoration, the girl guessed

The blonde followed closely behind her with obvious concern showing on his face. "This is the kingdom of Cynthia, land of the moon goddess, our patron god."

"Cynthia? Goddess?" Illya rubbed her temples. Every answer only led to more questions. "So I really am not dead?"

Now it was the blonde boy's turn to look surprised. His brows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes on the white-haired girl.

"You are greatly concerning me. Of course not! You are very much alive! Now, tell me, " he paused, staring at Illya directly with his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed — something that flustered the girl as no one dared to look her straight in the eye. "Which arrogant noble do I have to put in their place this time?"

"This time?" Illya echoed and it was frustrating that it had been all she has been doing ever since she woke up in whatever the hell this place is. "This has happened before? And nobles?"

Oz gazed at her with a frown, and while she could not tell, the boy thought of bringing her to the clinic all the while he searched for whoever traumatized Illya enough to have her acting in this way.

"Who are you anyway?" She did not mean to be rude but the blonde youth in front of her only chuckled in response, something Illya thought was not an appropriate reaction to the confusing situation at hand. Was the hurt reflected in his eyes that I saw earlier just in my head?

"I have not even an ounce of idea about whatever might be happening with you, but if you insist to not recognize me, I am Oz, previously a servant of the moon. Now, I exist to serve you."