With her dying breath, the curse was unleased. Merely a quiet whisper, a cough, and then nothing.
I remained knelt by mother’s side, before the soldiers started dragging me back to the wooden shack, father’s startled cries filling the air. Her crimson blood soaked the hem of my dress.
“She was a witch, girl,” one of the soldiers said, voice hoarse and warbly. “Would’ve tainted your pure soul.”
I looked at their hand, now looking like gnarled tree roots than youthful like before. Their faces matched their cruel souls, and suddenly they were no more. Mother’s blood protects me still.
