Chapter 6 The witch's followers are devoted to an old witch who has already dried up...

“Don’t wait for me to say it a second time,” the witch repeated, “release him.”

However, the people in the tavern only grew angrier. The two young men arguing about the origin of the world boldly lunged at Ashlin, only to be wrapped up like cabbages by two vines.

“Ashline,” Lucas struggled, “the tavern is under a time loop curse, the spell is in that hourglass. Break the hourglass!”

Ashlinn seemed rather pleased, but unfortunately, her pleasure was ill-timed: "This is the first time you've addressed me by my Christian name, Your Highness!" she said as she ran toward the hourglass.

"That's because calling her 'Ashley' saves time compared to calling her 'Miss Bailey,'" Lucas thought. "To be honest, they're not that close yet."

“No way!” Cassandra roared. “That’s what we depend on for survival!”

Lucas's heart leaped into his throat. Ashlyn was just a forest witch from the river bend, who spent her whole life gathering herbs; how could she possibly defeat someone from a tavern?

Her illusions couldn't even last a lunch; such a burst of magic in a short time would exhaust her.

She slid down the building on the growing branches like a slide, and several hunters tried to stop her with their swords, but were hit by the branches and leaves and slammed against the wall.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She actually had the mind to apologize, her tone as if she had broken a child's toy.

“Touch the hourglass, witch,” the icy touch pressed against Lucas’s neck, the blade leaving a line of blood, “and your head will have to go somewhere else, you pretty little prince.”

“I’m sure my head likes where it is, thank you,” Lucas said politely.

Click.

He swayed, chair and all, and felt a leg of the chair beneath him break.

Beside him, dark green thorns trembled and sprang up, their sharp thorns grazing Lucas's face.

Be careful!

This girl's control over magic is simply disastrous.

"Sorry! I lost control." She swung her staff sharply, and a wooden crate full of empty bottles next to the bar exploded with a bang. Vines instantly wrapped around the ankles of several burly men who rushed at her, slamming them to the ground.

The sounds of shattering glass, curses, and wails mingled together.

The hunter was distracted by the chaos and the sudden attack of thorns. Lucas, enduring the dull pain in his ribs and the tightening of the ropes, suddenly rolled to his side.

"Ashlin, forget about them! Just break the hourglass!"

His voice cut through the noise. Ashlin turned her head sharply at the sound, her exceptionally bright green eyes instantly locking onto her target, like the eyes of a wolf.

"Oh! There it is!" It was as if the life-or-death struggle just now was merely a minor episode in the search for the hourglass.

"Don't even think about it."

Cassandra forcefully tore off the thorny vines that were wrapped around her calves, and smashed through the tables and chairs blocking her path like a wild boar with a raging gait.

The Witcher's gleaming silver dagger flashed, aiming straight for Ashlin's back.

"Behind you!" Lucas's heart nearly stopped beating.

The Witcher swung his sword at Ashlin, but was struck hard on the wrist by a branch that came from behind the bar, causing the sword to fly out of his hand.

Ashlin looked at her hands with curiosity. "Hey, I've never played like this before!"

Lucas had never seen magic like this before. She looked almost insane, her green eyes a mixture of anger and excitement, her hair as messy as the branches behind her, as if it were about to fly away.

No drinker could stop her advance; most were tethered to her vines or pinned to the ground, but no one was truly injured.

How did she do it?

There were no spells, no crystals, no herbs, and even the staff seemed like an ornament.

Of course, her magic lacks discipline and there is still much room for improvement, but such potential is already remarkable.

Only one possibility remains. Ashlyn Bailey is clearly not the kind of ordinary girl who becomes a witch through studying.

Several words rushed into Lucas's mind: divine offspring, true magicians. Only when they reach a certain age do they unleash their magical power.

Shocked, he suddenly felt a pang of jealousy.

But the kingdom hasn't produced a true magician for many years. Sanova is one, and the court magician Manette is another.

Lucas was lost in his own thoughts and almost forgot that he was still lying on the ground in a sorry state.

He glanced out the window; the first rays of dawn shone through the windowpane.

Ashlin had knocked over several more drinkers and seemed exhausted, walking unsteadily.

Clearly, she hadn't planned her magic distribution properly. Now that her magic was depleted, she could do nothing.

Lucas shuffled toward the hourglass like a caterpillar, only to be pinned down by a foot.

"Got you!" the tavern owner exclaimed with delight.

This time, no random plants popped out to help.

Ashlin was covered in sweat and panting heavily. Her staff was nowhere to be seen, and her arms were being held down by two patrons. She punched and kicked, but to no avail.

"Excuse me, who of you wants to die first?" a poet asked politely.

Lucas and Ashlin exchanged a glance, knowing that they were thinking the same thing: they just needed to buy time and wait for sunrise.

“Of course, the royals should die first,” Ashlin screamed in a voice that didn’t sound like her, “but killing him outright would be such a waste, wouldn’t it? Why not humiliate him properly?”

"Ladies and gentlemen, please don't forget, the girl beside me, though seemingly innocent, is in fact a powerful witch. In the past, witches were monstrous creatures who manipulated people's hearts and bewitched others; burning witches at the stake was part of the law. Now that the law has been abolished, it doesn't mean witches are good. Since when has the kingdom's punishment of witchcraft degenerated to such a cowardly state? You know, she almost turned the tavern into a pine tree!"

He turned his head to show the layout of the entire tavern.

These words caused quite a stir among the patrons. They whispered among themselves, pointing and commenting on the rampant plants in the tavern and their culprits.

"The Deville family has been exploiting you all! They enjoy the most luxurious castles, while you live in hastily constructed wooden huts; they feast on the most delicious herb-roasted chicken and honey bread, while you eat black bread with rotten beans; they allow their prince to even speak Elvish from a young age, yet they deny your children the most basic educational opportunities." Ashlin retorted fiercely, "Isn't it a waste that a son from such a family died so easily?"

Lucas strongly suspected that Ashlin took the opportunity to speak her mind.

But it was indeed a success: the drinkers were hesitant.

If they hadn't been cursed to execute two people, they probably wouldn't have thought about it for a second; but the magic corrupted their minds and robbed them of their ability to think.

"What do you think?" the tavern owner asked the others.

“If you ask me, let’s kill the witch first,” Cassandra said coldly. “That’s what we witchers do.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Lucas nodded, feeling the time was about right. “Then, I’m ready to die.”

Under Ashlin's horrified gaze, he willingly stretched his head toward the longsword.

"I'll count to three."

"Wait, Lucas."

"three……"

Lucas caught a glimpse of sunlight out of the corner of his eye.

He winked at Ashlin.

"two………"

"one!"

The sword missed its target.

Lucas smiled slightly.

He didn't miscalculate.

Just then, the clear morning light shone into the room.

Within seconds, Lucas's field of vision was significantly lower.

Unfortunately, he was now one step closer to the filth on the ground and the stinky feet of the patrons; the disgusting mud and smell almost made him faint.

Everything turned blue and green, and became blurry. Only the things that were moving were exceptionally clear: wild vines growing wildly, the boss sweeping them up, ants carrying breadcrumbs, a rolling nail, and Ashlin being threatened with a sharp knife.

He deftly slipped out of the straps.

The patrons were terrified and scrambled to their feet. Ashlin seized the opportunity to break free, grabbed the hourglass, and smashed it to the ground.

The golden sand glittered and gradually disappeared into the crack in the ground.

The air in the entire tavern vibrated violently, emitting a low hum.

The wildly growing plants seemed to have their life force instantly drained, and their rampant growth came to an abrupt halt.

People collapsed like rag dolls with their strings cut, the fanaticism and anger in their eyes fading rapidly, replaced by vast expanses of bewilderment.

Cassandra stood frozen in place, holding the short sword, her eyes unfocused and vacant, like a sleepwalker who had just been abruptly awakened from a deep sleep, completely unaware of where she was.

Ashlin swayed, her face pale, and beads of sweat soaked her blonde hair at her temples.

Lucas, now a black cat, jumped over and patted her worriedly.

Cassandra staggered over.

Lucas retaliated by slashing her a few times.

This is nothing compared to the harm she caused them.

“Ah, their souls have entered their bodies, but unfortunately their intelligence hasn’t returned in sync,” Lucas said.

By this time, they had just cleared most of Ashlin's vines and branches and calmed the frightened patrons.

Those people were terrified and had confused memories. One botanist even went insane, shouting that he was an ant carrying breadcrumbs and had to be sent to a monastery or hospital.

“So, we’ve been framed.” After hearing the description from the two people, a mix of humans and cats with a translator, Cassandra said, “Unbelievable, I’ve wasted a whole month in this godforsaken place… I’ve missed so many evil monsters.”

Cassandra was still drinking, but Lucas and Ashley had no appetite.

“To be more precise, you were framed,” Lucas said. “The time looping spell isn’t an ordinary spell; it’s dark magic…”

He paused.

"Cynthia's dark magic".

"Wait, isn't this the Cynthia I'm thinking of?" Ashlin asked hurriedly after translating Lucas's cat language to Cassandra, "The one cursed to never see the light of day in the labyrinth?"

“It is her,” Lucas said. “The most powerful black witch in the history of the continent of Dias. Legend has it that she was ruthless and wicked, and even killed her lover for power.”

He turned to the still-shaken Witcher.

"After we saved your life from dark magic, you still won't tell us anything, Cassandra?"

Ashlin translated it.

Besides, with the hourglass spell broken, she was freed from its restraints. Since the purpose of that spell was to imprison Cassandra, it was certainly to prevent her from revealing certain information.

Cassandra looked serious, lowered her head, and finally cleared her throat.

Lucas's hand trembled slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

So this is the "follower of the Black Witch" she inadvertently revealed before.

"Don't panic," he told himself. "This must be another believer, not... In any case, it has nothing to do with their family."

He coughed lightly, trying to appear calm. This had always been one of his strengths.

“Then the timeline makes sense,” Ashlin thought. “Sanova left home a little over a month ago. After that, I wrote him many letters, but he didn’t reply to a single one. The only message he sent me was a few days ago, asking me to come to Helian City to help heal Prince Lucas.”

Cassandra ordered another beer.

"Alas, Master, there are indeed many difficulties, aren't there?"

“At least he knows what he’s doing,” Lucas said sarcastically, “unlike the Witcher who was stuck for an hour and found nothing.”

"Hey!"

Ashlinn nudged him.

“So, it’s likely that Sanova went to hunt down the followers alone. And somehow, the followers knew about Cassandra’s relationship with Sanova, so they used time magic to trap Cassandra in the tavern to prevent the news from leaking out,” Ashlin analyzed.

“Where did the believer finally appear?” Ashlin asked.

“Wait a minute, let me look…” The Witcher pulled out a parchment map with tattered edges and slammed it onto the table.

“Here.” She poked at a small patch of land in the Windwhisper Plains. “There seems to be some kind of magical ruin there, but I’ve kind of forgotten what it is.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

The magical ruins of Windwhisper Plains... These words sounded extremely familiar; he had seen them in the book: a place associated with sacrifices and riddles.

Most magical regions are located outside of Dias. Lucas is most familiar with the Elf Valley of Ilovenia, the Orcish Forest in the Northern Lands, and the more mysterious Dwarven mining city further north. Dias, on the other hand, is human land, with few magical ruins; an altar like this is quite rare. After all, the entire Dias reveres the Sun Goddess.

“I’ve never heard of this place before,” Ashlin frowned.

“It’s the Celeste Altar,” Lucas said after a moment’s thought, glancing around.

"Celeste, the goddess of the moon?"

"Yes, the altar of the moon goddess. The moon always hides secrets, secrets that only the wind whispers..."

He gradually became excited, and the myths, legends, adventure stories, and magic maps that he had read so many times in his childhood flashed before his eyes.

“Cynthia is a devotee of the moon, and this devotee is… a devotee of Cynthia. In ancient times, people would offer blood bathed in moonlight to the moon goddess, listen to the wind, receive revelations, and carve strange riddles or stories on the altar. Some of these remain undeciphered to this day, and no one understands them. This devotee may want to solve the riddles and gain great power.”

Lucas was a little disappointed; the other two weren't as excited as he was.

Ashley's hand tapped nervously on her wine glass.

"Blood?"

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bailey is definitely still alive and well,” Lucas comforted. “Look, he specifically sent you to rescue me. A dying man doesn’t have the strength to write a letter, especially one with a royal mission.”

The witch nodded, then quickly stood up, nearly spilling the Cassandra.

“You’re right. Then we should go to the Celestial Altar to find him immediately.”

“Hopefully your ‘immediately’ includes detailed route planning and food reserves, at least more meticulous than suddenly destroying a tavern with a forest,” Lucas rolled his eyes. “But anyway, thank you, Cassandra.” Ashlin translated for him.

A note from the author: