"Isn't she too young to devise something like this?" asked another man. 

"I heard Sabbi was working with Master Creed. Is it true, Ms. Mila?"

There were some whispers from them, when they heard the woman named Mila speak to them, "Master Creed was working with the black witch named Sabbi."

"But we have never seen her. How do we know it is the truth?" asked another man. 

"Because the black witch has the crest of Master Creed. It was given to her by him as a deal to be kept. It is only right we serve her," she said, her eyes searching through the trees to see if the other black witch who had come here was sitting in the branches, "The black witches who here need to be killed, the ones who are new. The old ones will be left untouched. Our goal is to help Sabbi in what she and Master Creed had planned for our future."

"I really don't think it is a good idea to listen to her. Black witches are not to be trusted-"

Mila didn't bother for him to continue his words and she pulled the trigger, "Any more people who think like the ones who are dead?" she looked at her men, her eyes staring at the people who didn't protest or speak a word, "Keep searching for her and make sure she doesn't return back here. Dead or alive shouldn't matter much. I will be going to Diskenth to report what happened here. 

Bathsheba who had been hiding from every witch hunter here, felt herself release her breath when she heard the footsteps scatter and move away from where she was. 

"Sabbi?" she asked herself. She had never heard of a black witch with that name. Of course, Creed was a popular name which she had heard in the market who was part of the council for a long time. He was dead? 

Thanks to working with Damien, Bathsheba had learned quite a few names who were in the council. She had to find out who this Sabbi was, something didn't feel right here. Mythweald was supposed to be a land free of any witches roaming around. It was because the witches came from the north, moving to East mostly and then to West but very few had an opportunity to move further down as they were usually caught and killed, or many didn't dare to move down in the fear of being killed. 

Bathsheba was one of the very few black witches who still had a decent heart in mind of not wanting to live like how the other black witches lived. She wanted a life of solitude but when a person was a black witch, the word solitude did not exist. There were witch hunters who were often on the tail and if that wasn't enough, her own kind would set her up to traps to get caught and burnt. Such was her life. 

She knew that the council was not clean but to think that a pureblooded vampire would go as far as to kill his own kind and others by siding with the creatures who were trying to kill humans, vampires, pureblooded vampires, they sure were a bunch of idiots, thought Batheshaba to herself.

She had to go back to Bonelake. The only person she could trust and who trusted her a little out of the whole lot was Damien Quinn. Now that she had moved down South, she had to go back to the land of Bonelake. She had to let him know what was going on in here and that there was going to be a riot soon. 

With the witch hunters gone, Bathsheba started to make her way to Bonelake. She carried no broomstick at the thought of being caught which would make her travel slow. There wasn't anything important, therefore she walked away from the forest, making her way towards the road. 

She had some coins and the night was still young. If she was lucky she could catch the local carriage which would take her to the next town or village which was much safer from this place. 

Reaching the road, Bathsheba walked on the side while also keeping an eye to make sure no one was following her. Soon she heard the sound of carriage that was heading from behind, turning herself back to her human appearance from the black witch appearance which was hideous. She stood there, waving her hand for the coachman to notice her. 

She moved her hand up and down, hoping it was a local carriage and not a private one which rarely stopped. Rich men and women who owned carriages never stopped for others, unless they were really kind or if they wanted something from the pa.s.senger. With no coat in the cold winter which was yet to pa.s.s by, she stood on the lonely road, the carriage coming to a halt and she let a sigh of relief pa.s.s through her lips. 

The coach person was a young man, who smiled looking at her. Right now she was a beautiful woman therefore no one would pa.s.s by her without stopping to give her another glance. It was one of the deceiving characteristics of the black witch. Their extreme beauty which had the ability to sway any man's heart. 

"Where do you want to go, milady?" the coachman asked, wondering what a lone woman was doing here in the middle of the road. 

"Where is this carriage going?" Bathsheba asked to make sure it was safe to ride in than invite more trouble to her. 

The man gave her a thoughtful look. Staring at her, "To the town of Hamps.h.i.+re."

"Oh," she responded back, her eyes catching a glint of something s.h.i.+ning in the side of his shoe which was covered by his trouser, "That's alright. I am going the other way," she gave him a polite smile. 

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