Soft humming filled the empty halls, accompanied by the howling of the wind outside and the quiet crackling of fire in the chimney. She swayed back and forth in her chair with a book in her hands. As it was not her first few moons since gaining her mortal body, Iona had learned a great many things. Much of which Cilas had taught her on their journeys. Yet, it was not to last. He seemed to have vanished when they dared to venture into those old ruins, and she had yet to learn of his whereabouts. Perhaps he’d become lost, or ensnared within one of the many traps lay within. Or for worse, she feared his life may have been lost. She had managed to escape after they parted ways, only because she stumbled upon a trap that spit her right outside the ruin walls.

Many a years have passed. And after being rejected too many times by folk overly frightened by those ruins to search for him, she had been left with no other choice but to end her search. For too long she clung to the hope that he’d returned, but she knew better. The curse whispered into her ears, reminding her that in the end she always loses those she loves the most. To death, and a great number of other ways. And when she lost Cilas—she snapped. Her memories returned in full, reminding her of her previous lives and each and every heart aching loss she’d been forced to endure.

No more.

It was high time she gave in to the curse and stopped trying. Lives were only lost and broken on her account. She wished for it all to end.

And so, she moved on. Followed the path Cilas had last spoken of when he’d mentioned his family until she found herself in Zets’ki. She’d managed to earn herself an honest living as a simple seamstress and tailor in the city. Once she’d obtained a respectable amount of coin, she bought this cabin. It was miles from the nearest civilization, deeper into the mountains. It resided at the edge of a dense forest, and directly by the shore of a large, glistening lake. It was a comely little place, just the right size for someone living on their own. It had all that she required to get by in life.

To keep others away, she used rumors that the spirit of a witch dwelled near the lake. It was a simple little thing to spill, while she watched as the rumors flew and twisted from person to person. On their own they came up with the belief that it was the “Lady of the Lake”, a spirit of an old witch who drowns her victims. Some believe the mountains and forests surrounding the cabin were haunted, and that the witch lures in men, both wed and bachelors, into her home and they never return. Children are often told that the witch will offer them sweets and eat them should they fall for her trick. A gruesome tale to keep them within their parents’ sights.

Being the only one known to live near the lake, the townsfolk share whispers about her. They suspect, and fear, avoiding her as a result and become too frightened to so much as glance at her the wrong way. No man dared to touch her again. And of those who must share some form of contact with her were oddly kind in her presence, and very awkward. And yet, she’d shown no indication that she had any ill will, nor that she even possessed any sort of magic. So without any proof against her, the townsfolk could say nothing against her, allowing her to work and run errands among them.

It was lonely to live in such a way, but it was for the best. And, she found comfort in knowing lives will be spared by keeping her distance from others. Because of this, she still had reason to smile.

Zets'Ki wasn't on her usual route, being east of Baltil. The snowy settlement of Saljians wasn't a place she visited normally around this time of year, but she had seen it often enough when the world came together to celebrate Reverie. Her reasons for stopping by were simple–she wanted to get a general feel for how many villages and people lived in these mountains. While she already had many information channels in the major cities, it was the rural and smaller settlements that risked falling through the cracks. The nightmare of the World Eaters' invasion and then the remnants that wrought havoc in Mo'mey were still fresh in her mind, not to mention the chain of events that had led up to them. After arriving in the city, Shiloh went around to see what sort of goods were in demand here. Her basic assessment of Zets'Ki Cradle's resources was brief, and while she was browsing the market one of the vendors noticed her. The man waved at her and she went over. He pulled her aside and said: "I noticed you're new around here, so I'll give you a word of warning–if you're going to stay outside the city, don't venture towards the nearby lake. There's a witch who lives there in those parts. Her hair and skin are pale, and she occasionally comes into town. Lately she hasn't been appearing as often, but it's best not to get too close."

Listening carefully, the rogue nodded and let the man go off to attend to his business. After giving him the satisfaction of warning an unwary stranger, it was clear that the rumored lake was where she would be heading to next. Shiloh wasn't the type of person to accept things at face value without gathering enough information. People had a tendency to be unreliable sources thanks to their limited understanding or bias. Leaving Zets'Ki discreetly, she made the long trek through the snowy woods. For a long time the only sound she heard was the crunch of freshly fallen snow beneath her boots. Although she had plenty of artifacts and clothes to keep her warm, the chill still found its way in. When the trees and snow all started to look the same, she found it. 

The lake was a dark blue in the midst of the snow, clear and undisturbed. The area was quiet, without even the faint chatter of birds. The cabin was not too far off, tucked away into the copse of frosted firs and spruce. Unlike how the man had described it, the place looked peaceful. It didn't feel like a place that people needed to avoid; more like a place for someone who wanted to avoid people. That was the impression Shiloh had when she took stock of the area. Sometimes individuals wanted to keep to themselves and cared less about what others thought of them. Maybe they wanted their own personal space, or they were doing just fine all alone. The lack of tracks meant whoever lived here hadn't come out since the last snowfall or weren't in. Using aura sight, she figured it was the former. Somebody was home. There was a life signature, meaning it wasn't a ghost or a figment of her imagination.

Approaching the solitary abode, there was the sound of scratching that could be heard by whoever was on the other side of its walls. And when the resident turned to look out the window, there would be a partially obscured face pressed up against the glass. Fog formed on the windowpanes as Shiloh's warm breath was chilled by the icy air. 

How fascinating it was to read such fictional tales. Through all of her lifetimes, her interest in storybooks never faded. She was allured by the use of words—how they were used to paint pictures in one’s mind, give birth to scenes and give rise to emotions. She found enjoyment in seeing just how powerful the tongue could be, even when written to tell stories that were untrue. It was amusing as well to become emotionally attached to characters that never existed.

She flipped the page.

It was a book she’d read many a times, and it was her favorite. She recalled its age as well. It’d initially been published when she was that lowly servant girl, the naive maiden who’d cost her dearest friend her happiness. A mistake that resulted in her becoming cursed. How many reincarnations ago was that by now? Twenty? Fifty? She couldn’t quite recall. And yet, the memory was clear as a bell. As if it’d only transpired recently.

And the book—she and her friend had been wise with their earnings to ensure they were able to afford a copy. It was all the rage among young women such as themselves. When they read the book, it became clear as to why. It was full of hopeful romance, and yet ended in tragedy. It played with the frail hearts of its readers. The emotion is what they’d been drawn to.

That, and it was beautifully written. The scenes were written so well one could almost feel as though it were real. And the wording—it was poetic.

She was near to finishing it once again. Only a few chapters left. But then something had caught her attention. She looked up from the book and towards the window. The face of a person was peering in, their breath quickly fogging up the glass until their face was no more than a blurry mash of colors. It was a sight alarming enough to make her jump. Why would someone be spying through her window? She could only think of sinister reasons they might have. Perhaps someone searching for an empty house to rob. Or, they could be folk from the nearest town, seeking to rid the mountains of the evil witch or harmful spirit they were led to believe resided within her home.

But then again, unless spoken to, their reasons would be left unknown. And she wasn’t one to assume.

She closed her book with a light thud and set it aside. Iona rose from her seat and approached the door. It opened without so much as a quiet creak as she leaned to peer outside. “Pardon me, are you looking for something?” She inquired softly. 

There was someone inside the house, sitting with a book open. The interior looked clean and well-lit, and there was a distinct lack of suspicious paraphernalia associated with the occult and strange. Not very witch-like, if you asked her. Shiloh's organized chaos in her own personal chambers located within the Machinarium was closer to that than this. It was just a normal house in the woods. The resident looked up from the book they were reading to lock eyes with the lurking rogue, nearly jumping out of their seat. The individual composed themselves and went to answer the door, and Shiloh's eyes followed them. The creak of the hinges told her it was open, and a young woman matching the vendor's description leaned outside to see what was going on. A quiet voice asked: "Pardon me, are you looking for something?" Removing herself from the window, the fogged imprint of her face slowly misted over as the dark-haired woman gave a terse reply. "Yes. And I've already found it. This is a pretty nice place secluded out in the wilderness. If a blizzard passed through, it'd be practically invisible." 

When standing up straight, the rogue was slightly taller out of the two of them. The visual differences were a clear contrast: her haggard appearance and dark circles beneath her eyes versus the pale and fine features of the rumored spirit that haunted these parts. Turning to the woman, her question was direct. "Word on the street is there's a ghost or some sort hanging around this side of the mountain. Do you know anything about that?" She asked not because she suspected her, but because she wanted to confirm if the rumors were just gossip or if the locals had confused another incident with something else. In the darkness of night, light and shadow would play tricks on the mind when one was alone and fearful. A sheet blowing in the wind could look like a specter, and the howls of a cold icy wind would make one's imagination run wild. Up in the remote wilderness, every sound and noise was a monster–real or otherwise. She stared at the pale woman's face intently, reading her expressions and body language for information that wasn't put into words. Her eyes also scanned what they could see through the crack in the door for anything she missed from looking in through the window.

Iona blinked curiously. The response she was given was not the one she was expecting. She glanced about the area wonderously with a thoughtful hum. The lake was vast, yet hidden by the dense and large forest surrounding it. Many have become lost within. No one would expect to find a lake amidst the forest heart, let alone someone living beside it. Unless they were one of the folk who knew of this place, no one would think to search for people. And if there should be a blizzard as the stranger noted, even the townsfolk surely would not be able to find her home.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she agreed quietly. Iona had yet to learn why the stranger would point out her solitude.

As the woman turned to face Iona directly, she reached by instinct to hold her silken robe closed, containing her modesty. And then, the stranger’s true interests were spoken. Iona gave pause. She feared this woman’s intentions. A witch hunter perhaps? Sent by the townsfolk? She’d know it to only be a matter of time before they let their fear of the unknown cloud their judgment. Humans were predictable that way. But she could not blame them. She understood their fear, even now as she faced this woman.

However, she could not allow herself to forget that she is an experienced witch. She had enough power to protect herself.

Smiling softly, she replied very simply, “Yes, I do know of the rumor you speak of, for I am the one who started it. Because it is true.” She shook her head a little as she continued, “However, allow me to put any fear that might burden you to rest. I only made the claim that the spirit of a witch lives among these trees. But the stories of men vanishing, and disobedient children being cooked and eaten—every horror story told—are untrue. In truth, this so-called witch spirit has never harmed a single soul.”

Another pause when a bone-chilling breeze swept over them. It reminded her that they were exposed to the cold. And glancing over the other’s concerning features, Iona felt the woman could use some rest.

“Forgive me, where are my manners,” she placed her free hand upon her cheek with a disappointed shake of her head. “My dear, you must be freezing! Would you like to come inside? I may answer whatever questions you may have over some hot tea, if you’d wish.”

Their small talk essentially confirmed what she had suspected, however what she wasn't counting on was the accused having spread those rumors herself. It didn't take much for Shiloh to guess why; she too was guilty of using gossip and hearsay to her own benefit. It's easier to spread ideas and preconceived notions when they come from familiar faces than through the mouths of strangers. After the woman made an honest confession, the rogue crossed her arms and didn't look surprised. "I figured as much. The aura of this place wouldn't be half as innocent if it was." There would be traces of the murders, attempts at keeping the acts hidden, and evidence that needed to be destroyed. Skeletons in the closet literally and figuratively, and the lingering smell of blood. It was a good thing this person likely wasn't looking into her mind. As Shiloh was mulling over it all, she almost forgot what sort of weather they were in as another icy gust wormed its way through her clothes. Even with her ability to acclimate to her environment, the cold wasn't something you wanted to get used to.

Feeling numbness starting to creep into her toes and fingers, she reluctantly took the so-called witch's offer. "I'll accept your invitation." She said, choosing her wording carefully. Another scan with aura sight gave no signs of malevolence in the woman's attitude and the building, so she followed after the pale lady into the welcoming warmth of shelter. Once the door was shut, the absence of a cold draft was enough to help melt away the ever-present chill that clung to her face and skin. Letting out a deep sigh, her breath wasn't visible and she settled into a chair. It was finally quiet. Being as tired as she was, light and noise seemed to be amplified wherever she went. While waiting for the lady to bring the tea she had promised earlier, Shiloh took the chance to survey the interior of the cabin in detail. From the fireplace she made a guess on how long it it had been burning, the smell of the air inside told her what was being prepared in the kitchen, and she saw the book which the woman had been reading before her unannounced house call. 

The house itself did not feel magical, otherwise she would've started feeling nauseous or dizzy. Her first question once both of them were seated was to ask, "Why bother spreading rumors when you live in a place few people can get to or even know about?" Was she hiding something? Or rather, by the way things seemed–was she hiding from something or someone? "Very few people choose to become a hermit, but almost all hermits are by choice." Shiloh wanted to see how she would respond, as she was trying to wrap her head around why someone who seemed harmless was trying to hide themselves away so badly. And seeing how friendly this 'witch' was to a suspicious stranger she had just met, the self-imposed isolation felt like an act done out of desperation. But for what?

She allowed the woman inside and closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfortable. I will brew us some tea.” Iona curtsied before she went off to the kitchen. If it could be considered another room. No walls stood between it and the den. She warmed the water, then soaked tea leaves after pouring some into cups. A little sugar was added for some sweetness. Once finished, she carried the cups into the den, handing one to the stranger before taking a seat on the loveseat across from the rocking chair. No sooner had she sat down was she met with more questions. Iona only took a sip of her tea, and smiled a little sadly. There was no hesitation to answer—she already knew the answer. No need to contemplate.

“I chose to live this way because it is for the best,” she said with confidence. “I am cursed, you see. A curse that has ended innocent lives, harmed people who had done no wrong. All because they knew me. The stronger their feelings are for me, and mine for them, the more they suffered. I believe that it can end if I make this small sacrifice. And so, I made claims, only neglecting to tell the fact that I am truly the witch possessed. I allowed them to draw their own conclusions.”

She paused to stare down at the steaming cup in her hands. Memories danced in her clear blue eyes. Memories of all those lost because of her, and memories of when she was made the victim due to her naivety. What those dragon hunters had done… It was not the first time it’d happened to her. It mattered not how many times she was reborn. People such as them always wanted one thing. What would happen should someone—a man—find a woman living all alone, far from people, far from any witnesses? But with the rumors, now they did not believe her to be so defenseless. Even though they only feared being cursed by her witchcraft.

“Please, understand that I take no pleasure in using their fears against them,” she quietly said, lifting her gaze to meet the woman’s. “However, it keeps them safe. That is all that I need.” Her families, lovers, friends—all of them lost because of this curse, because they’d cared for her.

Besides, she wasn’t entirely human. Who was she to try making herself a place in their world as if she belonged? Cilas believed she could belong if she desired it. But, the fact of the matter was that no one accepted a witch they presumed to be evil, nor a spirit, and otherworldly being they do not understand.

“Have you come to investigate?” She asked curiously.

The answer wasn't unexpected. Her words aside, Shiloh could read the exact same feelings from her expression and body language alone. Resignation, despondency, lingering regrets. They muddied the atmosphere like smoke in the wind. Intermingling, they swirled together until they solidified into the overarching belief that this was something she deserved, that this was her lot in life. Self-blame hung off her like a grey cloud. But when the woman made her defense for her actions, this was where the rogue disagreed. A sober solemness was in her eyes as the tiredness briefly left them when she folded her hands and crossed her legs. "You're not trying to keep them safe. You're trying to protect yourself." As harsh and blunt as those words were, Shiloh knew as well as anybody what was going on. Curse or no curse–from the tone of voice and choice of words the pale lady was taking the entire responsibility for things that likely weren't under her control. Before entering this world, she had gone through the exact same thought process albeit for different reasons. As to her question on why she was here–she didn't mince words. "I have a habit of looking into rumors when I hear them, especially when there aren't clear answers."

Though the mention of a curse meant that things weren't going to be so cut and dried. However, hiding away wasn't going to solve anything and this woman wouldn't be able to hide forever…even if she was a witch. Despite having a decidedly different stance about her situation, Shiloh went on to ask. "Can you explain this 'curse' of yours in more detail? How do you know that your past misfortunes weren't due to some unlucky coincidence?" She had to be careful not to push her own opinions too early, lest she solidify the lady's preconceived notions and block off her chance to learn more. Situations like these were like a game of tug of war–sometimes you had to push and other times you had to pull in order to make headway. She couldn't deny the woman's personal feelings outright, so she had to follow the train of thought to its point of origin. Receiving more information about her circumstances would shed more light on whether this case had a curse as its cause. Perhaps she might come off as cold and tactless, but it was clear that the haggard stranger had a genuine interest in Iona–her 'curse' included. She wasn't here to make small talk and merely satisfy her own curiosity.

Iona was taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. She expressed no hesitation to speak such harsh words. They were sharp, and hit her hard. Did she not care about others feelings? Or was she only trying to get a point across clearly? Although it hurt, Iona did appreciate her honest opinion. It made her think.

Even though her guest changed the subject to briefly answer Iona’s question, she was now more focused on whether or not the woman was right about her. She always tried to avoid being selfish after she was cursed, but she’d never considered there may have been selfishness behind her “selflessness”. How had she been so blind? Yes, she was afraid of being hurt again, but she truly did care about others. She didn’t want anyone else harmed because of her. But, if living amongst them didn’t help, and neither did living in solitude, then what was she supposed to do?

She shook her head lightly as the woman started to dig a little deeper. And Iona didn’t question, nor did she complain. She took one more sip of her tea, then set it down upon the table beside her. For a few heartbeats she kept her silence while she let her memories flow through her. “I know because it has followed me through many lifetimes,” she began calmly, smoothly, yet her eyes were heavy with sorrow and regret. “I was but a simple human with no magical talents. There was no reason I should have been reborn over and over. And, it mattered not how many times I died; my misfortunes continued to follow me into my next life. Without fail, each of my kin were killed, one by one. Every person who cared about me, whom I loved, met the same fate. I could try to protect them as much as I liked, but sooner or later, the end result was always the same.” Her eyes shifted to meet those of her guest, “I have been reborn over fifty times.” She had experienced the same thing over far too many lifetimes for it to be a coincidence.

She looked towards the blazing fire, reds and oranges and yellows dancing in her cool eyes. “I had been selfish, and now I pay for my sin.” She paused as every moment of that dreadful night washed over her, forcing her to relive it.

Finally, “I had a friend once. She was madly in love with a man. But, when he and I finally met… I didn’t like the way he looked at me, how he always turned his eyes upon me when my friend had her back turned. And the first chance he was given…” her voice faded for a moment as she swallowed hard. “He charmed me. I… I kept denying him. I did not wish to betray my friend. But he was persuasive.” She shook her head, turning her face downcast with shame, “I’d told myself that I was saving her from a loveless relationship—that it would be best to lose him rather than spend her whole life only to find his heart belonged to another. I told myself such things to justify my actions and bury my guilt. But I had no right to make that decision for her… And I was foolish enough to hope she would understand. However, it broke her when he explained why he was leaving her. And it consumed her.” Horror reflected in her eyes as she recalled the woman who’d once been her best friend killing her lover before her very eyes, spatting words of hatred. Iona had felt darkness erupting from her friend—she’d felt it take hold of her. It took the life of her unborn child, and made it impossible for her to escape her suffering through death.

She blinked and took a deep breath to wash those memories away. She took up her tea, “For my punishment, she cursed me to always feel her pain. The pain of losing the one she loved the most. And to prevent me from escaping the pain, I am reborn after every death and forced to relive my losses, only with new faces.” She took a slow sip from her drink. Then, she said quietly, “At first I accepted this fate and believed I deserved it. And, in a way, I suppose I still do. However, I should’ve suffered alone. Others should not suffer as well.” Iona looked back at her guest sadly, yet desperately, “If you do not approve of my decision to live in solitude, then may I ask for your advice?” She did not want to live alone, yet she was tired of others paying the price for her curse. But she’d never thought to ask for help before, nor was she courageous enough to risk allowing anyone to help. She always feared they would suffer as well. Yet, it was clear that nothing she did on her own was working. Perhaps it was time she stopped trying to solve it on her own.

She knew she wasn't the type to sweeten her words so they would go down smoothly. And she wasn't self-righteous enough to think that she was completely objective. But Shiloh had a genuine interest in this woman's past history and what exactly had happened. Fortunately the lady was willing to disclose more about herself and why she was in this situation. When Iona recalled how many times she had been through the loop and the details of what befell her past friends and family, it was clear what kind of supernatural phenomenon they were dealing with. A grudge. Yes, one of the oldest and most persistent of curses fueled by an undying hatred that could transcend time and space. It was possible that the very first curse came from a grudge, and from it came forth all sorts of horrible variations. And the most common cause was jealousy. It was a textbook scenario: there were two women, one fell in love with a man–but the man loved the other; the first woman would be driven mad by envy and would commit some sort of violent crime before cursing the other out of spite, cementing the last requirement to give the curse form. 

Letting the pale woman finish, Shiloh answered her question with one of her own. "Do you know what curses and blessings have in common?" The dark-haired woman paused, giving her host a few moments to come up with a guess. Her gaze met the woman's as she leaned her head against her hand. When the silent countdown was up, she gave the answer: "They are both contracts." Shiloh proceeded to explain her line of reasoning. "Both blessings and curses can only work under specific conditions. Without those conditions, they are words on the wind. As the saying goes, 'an undeserved curse does not come to rest'. The reason why is simple–if it cannot find its intended recipient, it will rebound back onto the sender. That is why when one blesses or curses, they must choose their words wisely. And just because those conditions weren't verbally spoken doesn't mean they're not in effect."

She then folded her hands together, looking down at her fingers interlocking with each other. "If a curse is still valid, then that means one of a few things. First, the conditions for termination have not yet been reached, or someone has failed to take responsibility. It's possible that the curse wasn't designed to have an end to begin with, but that gives us a little leeway. Like any legal and binding contract, the less specific the terms are, the easier it is to find a loophole." Returning to the details surrounding the curse's origin, Shiloh took in a deep breath and leaned back in her seat, slouching. "I'm going to say this upfront–none of you were innocent in this situation. There isn't a single party in your case that isn't guilty. Your friend wasn't willing to face reality, while you deliberately hid the truth from her as long as possible because you didn't want to lose your friendship. And as for the man…he sounds like a filthy lecher–pardon my language. If a man doesn't know how take 'no' for an answer, that's already a problem." 

"From your perspective, it does seem like he was intentionally leading your friend on while refusing to say he wasn't interested in her. Which is completely despicable when you think about it. He had the guts to pressure a woman into being his lover but didn't have enough to tell another woman no. Or he changed his mind after seeing you. Not your fault, by the way. He was the one that approached you, not the other way around. But if you decided to enter a relationship with him, you should have let your friend know. Well, enough dissecting and picking things apart. Let's lay it all out on the table." Rummaging through her things, she pulled out a quill and a bottle of ink. She fished out a crinkled piece of parchment, and smoothed it out to make it more usable. Uncapping the ink, she began scribbling a simple diagram with three names forming a triangle: 'Friend', 'Lover', and 'You'.

Drawing arrows, she began her summary of Iona's recollection of events. "Allow me to explain the foundations of the grudge-based curse she made against you. By being with him, she believed you had betrayed her trust. The brunt of her anger was directed more towards you than your lover, and this is shown through how she acted. She killed him for failing to reciprocate her affections, but she never forgave you. She probably already knew that he was being cold towards her, but she thought you wouldn't accept his advances. The way I see it, she didn't curse you to feel her pain. She cursed you to suffer, again and again in the worst way possible, for breaking her trust in you. If she had truly cursed you to feel her pain, you would have been trapped in situations where you would be constantly betrayed by the people you trusted. Instead, she took her anger out on you with the people you love as collateral damage. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, being accurate is more important than being right at this point."