#Prompt: Hunter AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetrainbow412-blog · 2 months ago

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Day 14: fantasy AU

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

This is a bit (too) long, but I honestly loved writing it. I hope you like it as much as I do, it's my favorite so far!

Living as a magical creature was undoubtedly difficult. But being born a witch was practically a death sentence.

You couldn’t boast that your kind had ever been fully accepted by society, but at least you could live in peace with others, and perhaps, out of fear, they wouldn’t dare harm you. But now, everything was different with the institution of a new system that aimed to completely exterminate you.

There were no longer safe places, and you were forced to retreat into the forest, stay united in covens, or the boldest among you faced the enemy. Treating you as a threat only turned you into one, sparking an unprecedented war where the king’s men used all sorts of devices to hunt, torture, and kill witches. On your side, you practiced every spell you knew, cursing them sometimes and even causing entire towns to suffer the consequences.

It was so sad to witness the feud and know that someday you could be the one standing on that stake that had taken so many lives or hanging with your feet floating above the ground as a demonstration of what they were capable of doing: a warning.

You doubted that you could ever kill someone out of spite. Your work had always been about healing, and up until that moment, you hadn’t allowed dark magic to corrupt you in any way, adhering to your principle that magic should only be used for altruistic purposes or, at worst, in self-defense.

However, that didn’t exempt you from fearing the men tasked with hunting you. You used to travel between towns to sell your healing potions, always careful not to be spotted by anyone who might turn you in. Sometimes, you worked for free for families too poor to afford other services. After all, magic was more effective. It was always more effective, both for good and for evil.

The fireplace burned softly inside your cabin, just enough to warm you but not enough to attract the attention of those who passed through the forest. Honestly, being there sometimes felt like living in a cave. You had covered the few windows to avoid being seen, and to counteract the lack of light, you had placed candles throughout the space.

You were preparing a stew for dinner with vegetables you had bought that afternoon in a neighboring town when a knock at the door startled you. The knocks weren’t aggressive but not timid either, and you quickly ran to extinguish most of the candles, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away. No one found your place by accident, so it had to be an intruder. If it were another witch, you would have felt it.

"I know you're in there," said a voice behind the wood. It was deep, and fortunately, not unfamiliar to you. "Let me in, I don’t want anyone else noticing I’m here."

Fearful but determined, you walked to the door to do as he asked. Suddenly, you remembered how the man always complained that your footsteps made no sound, something you found useful all the time.

Before opening, you discreetly peeked through a crack in the wood to make sure no one else was with him. Having a witch hunter at your door was bad enough; more of them would be catastrophic.

You pulled the handle of the old wood to reveal your guest, and he silently walked inside.

You had never met a man as strange as Reid, the witch hunter. You first saw each other during a skirmish you hadn’t planned to be part of but unfortunately ended up involved in. Your role wasn’t to attack anyone; instead, you helped your injured companions. At some point during the altercation, the man managed to catch you, and, scared but determined not to let him discover who you were, you tried to escape. He attempted to put a pair of shackles on you, but you fought back with all your strength. Although you tried to cast a spell, the man was intelligent. His hands strategically held you to prevent any of your movements, and he was strong enough that you couldn’t overpower him.

“Witch, it’ll be worse if you resist…”

You didn’t know if he said that to convince you or out of frustration from the struggle you were giving him, but you didn’t want to find out either. You bit the hand within your reach, and though he groaned, he didn’t release you entirely. When one of your feet touched the ground, giving you more stability, you kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to let you go.

You tried to run, but the man was an expert. He quickly reached for his sword, still sheathed at his waist. You looked him in the eye and regretted being in this situation. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it was kill or be killed.

Suddenly, you noticed hesitation in him, as if he didn’t want to do anything but capture you. His long hair was tangled, and his face was smeared with blood: you didn’t want to know if it was his or one of the women’s.

A crash echoed, and in a split second, a flash of blue light shot through the air, hitting the hunter’s shoulder in front of you. A few inches to the side, and it probably would have killed him instantly.

He collapsed to the ground, dropping his sword to use his hand to try to stop the blood pouring out in torrents. You stood in shock, watching him for a few seconds, stunned by the deep pain on his face. However, there was something else: it looked like hate, but if you looked closely, it was fear. No one wants to die, and in that gaze, there was fear of passing to the other life.

What could you do in that case? The wisest thing would have been to run away and leave him to his fate, but you hesitated for a second. Was that really the right thing to do? He had tried to capture you, but after all, he was a man, a soul.

Cautiously but without wasting time, you stumbled to his side, kneeling, and extended your hands over his body, covered by a leather jacket, pressing on the wound.

“Leave me alone!”

“Shut up, I’m trying to save your life,” you scolded him.

You began to recite a spell, and although he tried to move, the pain wouldn’t let him. Little by little, he felt the burning sensation diminishing, along with the feeling of his blood gushing out.

Reid was an expert at remembering faces. Thanks to that, his team of hunters often managed to catch witches, even if they moved from place to place. While you worked, he focused on observing you. Your face was smudged with soot, and you had a small cut at the hairline, but other than that, you were fairly easy to recognize. Your brows were furrowed with concern, and he wondered what kind of crazy person you were to be helping him, even though he had been about to condemn you minutes earlier.

When the pain was completely gone, leaving only a red stain, you knew you were vulnerable again, so you quickly got up to move away from the man. You didn’t know how long you ran, but the memory of the tears streaming down your face, thinking about abandoning your own kind, was etched in your memory.

The second time you saw each other was a complete accident. You had gone to town to stock up on some materials you needed, carefully buying from different vendors so that no one could accuse you of practicing witchcraft, when you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, you saw that golden insignia worn by the most prestigious hunters, and as soon as you looked up, you both recognized each other instantly.

You didn’t hesitate to turn and run in the opposite direction, knocking into some people along the way. A few meters ahead, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a secluded alley.

“Don’t kill me,” was the first thing you said, looking at him with an involuntary pleading expression.

Thanks to the daylight, you could observe him better and noticed the hardness in his features. He was intimidating, no doubt, and you understood why there were enough reasons to consider him dangerous.

“Why did you help me?”

There was a gruffness in his question that made it sound as if he were angry. Was he offended that he had been saved by the enemy? Or did he want to know your reasons before sending you to die?

He still held one of your hands tightly, fully aware that most spells required both your hands. There was silence for a moment as you stared at each other until you dared to speak.

“I don’t know.”

“I tried to capture you.”

“I know,” you replied just as seriously. He still hadn’t let you go. “But it’s my job. I help others. And I didn’t want the guilt of having left you lying there, although now that I think about it, it probably would’ve been the smarter thing to do.”

“You could’ve let me die, but you didn’t,” he murmured, almost as if talking to himself rather than to you “You didn’t.”

He sounded incredulous, as if the idea of an act of kindness from you was unimaginable. You remained very still, waiting for him to do something, and after a few seconds, he released your wrist.

“Go,” he said again. “It’s a life for a life.”

Without thinking too much about what he was offering you, you fled once more, and you didn’t stop until you reached the forest, completely forgetting the reason you had gone there in the first place. You would buy the ingredients elsewhere, what mattered most now was getting as far away from that hunter as possible.

As if by fate, you continued to run into each other, and each time your panicked glances were ignored by him, as if by not looking directly at you, he was giving you a chance to escape. Months passed this way, and at some point, you found him at your cabin door when you returned from the town.

You thought this would be your end and cursed yourself for not letting him die, sealing your tragic fate. However, he wasn’t there to capture you but to make a deal. You couldn’t believe it. After all, since when did hunters negotiate with witches?

“You’re something like a healer, aren’t you?” he asked once he had forced you inside the cabin so you wouldn’t be discovered.

“I am.”

“And do you know how to treat head troubles?” he asked curiously “You know, things doctors can’t?”

You didn’t understand what he wanted, and once again, you felt afraid. The enemy knew where you lived; he was standing in your home, not pinning you against a wall to immobilize you. He was seeking your help, which you had every right to refuse if you wished.

“You’re a witch hunter,” you muttered aloud, your tone bordering on disgust “What does it matter if I can do that?”

If you were going to die, you wanted to do it with integrity.

“Listen, I can offer you something in exchange for your help. I can protect you. If I hadn’t kept quiet, my companions would have already found and killed you because no detail escapes me. If I figure it out, my whole team knows, but on their own, they won’t be able to decipher it. I’m the one standing between them and you. If I say nothing, you’ll be safe.”

Could you trust his word? What if it was all a trap? A million questions crossed your mind at that moment, and you tried to consider whether the risk was worth the reward. Probably no hunter in history had ever sought help from a witch, and you were sure your kind couldn’t trust ordinary humans.

But despite knowing this, you accepted. After all, your secret was already exposed, and if you refused, you would only hasten the inevitable result. At least by accepting his deal, you bought time. You could live until he decided you were no longer useful, or when his team of hunters wanted to eliminate more witches.

Months had passed since then. That’s how he told you what he was suffering from, and you helped him treat it, giving him various infusions, ointments, and occasionally using some magic directly on him.

“Have you gotten better or worse?”

“I’ve improved. On a scale from one to ten, maybe a seven.”

“Have you followed the instructions I gave you? The therapeutic baths, drinking the drops I gave you, all of that…”

“Yes. Sometimes I don’t have time, but I try.”

Whenever he visited you, neither of you made eye contact. You pretended to be busy preparing things, while he kept analyzing the wood of your table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Alright. Give me a moment, and I’ll prepare what you need.”

Reid hummed in response, and he stayed calm, drumming his fingers on the surface in front of him. While you mixed ingredients, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing that he was wearing his characteristic black clothes, but this time he looked more relaxed. No sword or visible weapons. He was only wearing a linen shirt and pants, which made you wonder if the night’s chill would affect him.

Your cabin was exceedingly warm, and although he wouldn’t admit it, there was a comforting feeling upon entering.

“I heard you caught the Green Witch.”

“We did, yes. Just yesterday. By the afternoon, her sentence had already been passed.”

“May the gods receive her with joy, and may she become magical strength for her coven,” you recited, making a gesture similar to crossing yourself.

Reid assumed that this was what you witches said every time one of your kind died.

“Did you know her?”

“Yes. We met a couple of times. She was a bit mad, but not so much that I’d wish her dead.”

“She did a lot of bad things.”

“I know. But years ago, she lived in peace with us.” You fell silent for a moment, waiting for a response. None came. “What you people do to my sisters is completely inhumane. Did you know that?”

“We’re just trying to protect people.”

“Yes, from something that wasn’t dangerous until you decided it was. If you keep telling someone they’re evil long enough, I think you’ll eventually push them into becoming that.”

Admitting it out loud would be a betrayal of the principles on which he worked, but Reid had thought many times about what you had just told him. The first encounter he had with you caused a complete ideological conflict in his mind. The lingering question had started to take shape: What if not all witches were evil?

He had joined the hunters to help achieve a greater good for his people. During those months, he had enjoyed the effects of your remedies, you had taken care of him, and despite who he was, you treated him with respect. He wondered if your behavior was out of fear that he might expose you to the other hunters or if your actions were genuine.

“If I refused to keep helping you…” you began, breaking the silence. He was deep in thought, and your voice brought him back to reality “Would you send me to the stake?”

As you said this, you still didn’t look at him. Focused on your work table, you gave him your back, somehow hoping his response would come directly to that place. You were sure of what he would say, that it would reach you like a stab.

“Are you planning to stop helping me?”

“Would you do it?” you insisted.

Reid thought about it for a moment and decided to answer your question with another.

“Would you be capable of killing me?” When you heard that, you turned with a confused expression. “You have all the means, to be honest. I drink those things you give me without question. Who’s to say you couldn’t be poisoning me?”

“I would never do that.”

“I can’t know that, just as you have doubts, so do I. It’s a matter of trust. Helping me is your choice, I’m just offering the benefit of protection in return. But if one day that agreement breaks, it won’t be me accusing you. If you decide to act wrongly, that’s your responsibility.”

You fell silent, observing him seriously. He was such a strange man.

“So, it’s our fault that we’re sent to die? Without being given the chance to prove we can help you?”

“Don’t think I’m a fool. I know you travel through the villages selling your potions and healing the poor. You’re proving your worth by keeping yourself alive, and that’s why you’re still here. You might live a long life as long as you don’t draw attention.”

“But I’m still a witch in the end. And you’re a hunter. The outcome for that combination is logical and inevitable.”

“And do you think all hunters are monsters?”

“I don’t know. Do you think all of us are evil?”

The two of you fell silent. Neither of you would dare say what you really thought. But there was something in the look you shared that felt hopeful.

Sensing the lack of response, you turned back to your work, and the conversation was over. A few minutes later, you placed three jars, a wooden container with ointment, and a plate of hot stew on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Food. No poison. If you don’t want to join me, then take your remedies, and the door is open.”

You had never invited him to stay longer than necessary, and the proposal felt strange to both of you.

Reid’s silence and his remaining in your home seemed to indicate a positive response, and still without saying anything, you served yourself a plate to join him for dinner. The sound of the fireplace was all that could be heard around you, along with the occasional noises of nature.

Whenever you weren’t paying attention, Reid would look up to observe you, as if you were a puzzle he needed to solve. Similarly, you analyzed his behavior, wondering if this man was worth the risks you were taking. Once, your gazes crossed, but as soon as your eyes met, both of you looked away.

“I should go,” he announced after finishing his meal. He wanted to compliment your cooking skills but couldn’t find the words. “Should I take the medicine the usual way?”

“Yes. The ointment is only if you have a fever.”

“Alright,” he muttered, nodding his head. He needed to leave, but it was as if his feet weren’t responding. “Thanks. For everything.”

For perhaps the first time, Reid saw a smile on your lips, and he took it as a sign of trust.

“Be careful on your way back.”

You didn’t speak of the matter any further, and you tried with all your might not to think about it. But the weeks passed, and you heard no news of Reid. It wasn’t as if you wanted to run into him everywhere, of course, but not knowing anything about him left you feeling strangely uneasy this time.

During one of your visits to town, you overheard rumors and couldn’t help but get curious. Several people were saying the same thing, both villagers and hunters.

"The hunter Reid is sick."

The women recited prayers, and the men expressed their sympathy for him. Apparently, he was a well-liked figure among the villagers, which made you wonder why and, secondly, why he hadn’t come to you for help.

Through whispers, a few questions, and your own deductions, you managed to find out where the man lived, and, trembling, you decided to search for him. Night had already fallen, and you hoped that under the cover of darkness, your identity would remain hidden.

Once you arrived, it wasn’t difficult to open the door, but your main fear was that he might have company, which would ruin everything. You noticed that the place was modest, with just a small hallway, a little room with shelves full of books, and a tiny space for preparing and eating meals. In the back, visible from the entrance, was a room dimly lit by a nearly extinguished candle.

How angry would he be if he found you in his home? In his territory, violating the place he likely considered sacred and safe? A witch in the house of a witch hunter.

He was alone in the room, lying on a small bed pushed against the wall, barely fitting his frame. He looked peaceful, but also visibly worn out, and his cheeks were flushed. You had heard of an illness affecting humans, killing them in large numbers: the plague.

Gently, almost maternally, you brushed his hair away from his forehead to check his temperature. He was burning up with fever.

“Who is it?” he asked hoarsely, barely having the strength to speak. When he cracked his eyes open and saw you, you noticed his transition from drowsiness to alarm.

“It’s me. I’m here. Calm down, you’re not hallucinating,” you murmured. Without wasting time, you searched among his belongings for the ointment you had made for him weeks ago, and without questioning it, you began to apply a layer to his forehead.

“What are you doing here?”

“The whole town is talking about you. I couldn’t help but hear, so I thought I’d come to check if my protection from the gallows was still in place,” you teased lightly.

You were lying. You wanted to see him, and you were worried about him. But you weren’t going to admit that.

“I’m just a little sore. Everyone’s exaggerating.”

“Has anyone given you anything? Food, medicine?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, so you want to go out like a real martyr? Suffering helps you reach heaven, or that’s what you people say, right?”

“Why did you come to see me? How… how did you know where I live?”

He spoke with difficulty, struggling to string his thoughts together, likely because of the illness. He was completely vulnerable before you.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked first. “Because I can.”

“No offense,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “It was just a question”

“Then, do you want me to stay?”

“If you want to, then yes.”

Neither of you would back down. Resigned, you found a chair to sit beside the bed and rummaged through your bag for something that could help him. You had a loaf of bread meant for your cabin and some tea, still warm, that you had bought from a farmer. Despite the hardship you'd face, your will allowed you to offer both to the hunter.

“You need to eat and drink something. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll prepare a potion that will help lessen the symptoms. With that and a little magic, you’ll be well by tomorrow or the day after you won’t even remember being sick.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will see you?”

“Of course I am. But I trust you’re not so treacherous as to betray me after I’ve risked coming here to help you.”

In that, you were right. And Reid knew it.

Without saying anything, you placed the food and the steaming tea on a little table beside the bed, then went to another area to start your work. Even though you didn’t have all your ingredients with you, you could prepare something decent with the supplies in your bag.

When you returned to the room, he had already devoured half of the bread and nearly finished the tea. You noticed that he was struggling to stay seated, so you encouraged him to lie down again, ready to begin your work.

Reid watched closely as you moved your hands and the faint sparks that appeared each time you twitched your fingers. It seemed as if you were pulling something from within him, and the man’s curious nature emerged.

“What exactly are you doing with that?”

“I’m pulling the illness from your system. Your soul is infected, so I have to cleanse it.”

“And the illness? Where does it go?”

“I absorb it,” you explained. Seeing his disbelief, you continued, “Magic always requires you to give something. That’s why so many witches who use dark magic end up corrupting themselves. Committing evildoings requires absorbing that pain.”

“Have you ever used dark magic?”

Suddenly, the conversation felt kind, intimate, almost like that of a pair of friends... or even lovers. You were terrified but didn’t let him notice.

“No. I practice Wicca: nature grants me power, and I am at peace with it. Without harming others.”

“It’s fascinating to hear someone talk about it. We know how to capture, contain, and kill your kind... I mean, witches. But I never really thought about what you all practice or believe.”

His voice was soft, tired, while you continued your work.

“Do all of you have the same mark?”

His hand reached up to touch your forearm, and you felt a shiver run through your body. His finger rested lightly on your birthmark, a reddish spot.

“Witches who are born with magic do. Well, most of them. For those who turn evil, the mark darkens, and often their fingers start to turn black, as if they have soot on their hands. It’s part of the transformation.”

“And is it true that you’re daughters of the devil?”

You let out a scoff, incredulous, wondering how many more lies had been told to tarnish your people’s image and turn you into monsters.

“We are daughters of Mother Nature, descendants of the oldest magical lineages. We have nothing to do with Lucifer.”

“And how is a witch born? Do you need... to be intimate with someone of your kind?”

“I think that’s a bit too personal of a question,” you murmured disapprovingly. With one final movement, you eliminated the sickness from his soul, and you felt that even his appearance had changed. “Better?”

“A little.”

“You need to drink this all day tomorrow and if possible, the day after. Dissolve it in enough water, and as the hours pass, you’ll notice improvement. But the most important thing now is for you to rest.”

“And where are you going?”

“To my cabin. You don’t expect me to stay in town, do you?”

“The night is dangerous,” he tried to warn, but you responded with a laugh.

“So what? Afraid I’ll run into a witch?”

Reid didn’t miss the teasing tone in your voice, and for a moment, he felt the same connection, that sense of familiarity you had felt before.

“You’ll be fine. Just follow the instructions and find me when you’re better,” you murmured, hoping that would suffice as a farewell.

However, the man stretched out his hand to stop you from leaving, gently taking your fingers. You correctly assumed that no witch had ever received such a soft touch from a hunter, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Why do you insist on proving you’re good?” he asked, reflecting aloud. You looked puzzled by his statement. “You saved my life even though I sought to take yours. You help me stay sane with your herbs, and now you come here and assist me even though no one asked you to.”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

“I’m confused. How am I supposed to capture more witches, knowing they could be like you? That they could be kind, sweet… that they could be so human?”

His monologue seemed more like he was trying to understand things himself, rather than asking you. But if he was recognizing you as human, was he suggesting he saw you as an equal?

You were walking on very thin ice. Ice that could easily crack under the heat of emotions... of passion, and something strange that was brewing inside both of you.

“Just don’t do it,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Without waiting any longer, afraid that his touch would overwhelm you, you pulled your hand away and walked toward the door. “Keep me updated. If you die, my protection dies too.”

You tried to make your words sound indifferent, but the truth was, they came out with a mixture of concern and plea. Reid felt a sense of pride, thinking that you were implying you needed him. That for one reason or another, you wanted him to stay alive.

“Thank you,” he murmured, delirious. In your heart, you hoped for his recovery, or you would never forgive yourself.

You waved goodbye and then made your way to the door of the house. Luck was on your side, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Cautiously, using those silent steps the hunter often complained about, you walked into the forest and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Throughout the night, perhaps due to fever or perhaps due to desire, Reid dreamed of you.

The months passed. Everyone was amazed at the sudden recovery of the hunter, and most attributed it to a miracle, not knowing that the magic they so despised had actually saved him.

Apparently, that second act of compassion on your part had softened his heart, and his visits became more frequent, almost always lacking any real purpose. He excused himself by saying that he wanted to learn more about witches, to see if there was a less violent way to deal with those who were evil. You had basically become the subject of his research.

Part of you was terrified at the thought that someone might discover your meetings or that he might dare to use against you all the information you were giving him. However, over time, the trust between you both grew considerably.

Titles had been lost somewhere along the way. Suddenly, you were no longer a witch, and he was no longer a hunter. You were simply two people, curious about discovering the secrets of the other's nature, beginning to learn that perhaps the beliefs you both had grown up with could be wrong.

Reid took it upon himself to warn you every time a hunt was going to start, making sure you didn’t leave your place until it was safe, trying desperately to keep the hunters away from the section of the forest where you lived.

Time was the only culprit for you growing fond of him. You didn’t want to; you never planned for it, but gradually, the feeling crept under your skin, and you couldn’t avoid it. It was terrifying just to think about it.

“It's beautiful, isn’t it?”

Reid was mesmerized by the view in front of him. Your curious friend had asked if it was true that fairies existed since he had never seen one, and you promised to take him to meet them. So, one afternoon, you ended up at a stunning crystal-clear lagoon surrounded by trees, with colorful lights flitting from one side to the other.

“We’ve explored this forest so many times. How come I’ve never seen this?”

“Sometimes, you humans only see what you need to see. The fairies are very protective of their territory, so not just anyone finds them,” you said, smiling slightly.

The idea of him being so excited to meet the fairies surprised you a lot. You had spent so much time with him that your perception of humans had inevitably changed too. Maybe not all of them were destined to hate magical beings… perhaps some could even grow to admire you.

But sometimes, you had mixed feelings about it. He visited you, protected you, trusted you… but he was still a hunter, wasn’t he? He still helped send witches like you to their deaths.

Only the evil ones, he always justified.

“Those little lights… Are they them?”

You hummed in agreement and carefully extended your palms, hoping one of them would approach. When one finally did, Reid was able to see it.

Fairies, contrary to what many humans believed, weren’t tiny, beautiful versions of a person with transparent wings. In reality, fairies were brown-colored creatures with moth-like wings and hair that looked like a bird’s nest.

“Aren’t they curious?”

“Very fascinating,” he admitted, a smile forming on his face. Lately, watching him smile had become one of your favorite activities.

He observed the scenery for a while, trying to register as many details as possible, while you gathered some plants that you would use to prepare potions or infusions.

Seeing you amid nature awakened a strange feeling in Reid. Kneeling, dressed in a white gown that gave you a certain aura of purity, your hair fell like a curtain over your face.

What was that feeling? Why did he feel this way, watching you so peacefully?

You said something, but honestly, Reid didn’t hear you. He was too distracted by the glow of your face and wondering where the little flowers in your hair had come from. It was probably the fairies, he thought, during the time he hadn’t been watching you.

“I asked if you know how to swim,” you repeated with a small smile “There are some who say this lagoon has healing properties. There are nymphs, too, but I haven’t seen any lately. They’re a bit possessive, to be honest.”

“Nymphs?” he asked, astonished, which only made you laugh.

Without saying another word, you set your basket aside, and Reid was shocked to see you start taking off your dress, leaving yourself in nothing but a very thin undergarment that was too indecent to be considered proper. But he couldn’t expect modesty from someone like you; after all, you had already shown that you didn’t follow conventional rules.

You gracefully dove into the lagoon, and Reid watched you disappear into the water, only to resurface a few seconds later.

“Come on!”

Reid hesitated for a minute, but eventually, he gave in and joined you in the water under the same conditions as you: in his underwear.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” you spoke again, floating on your back in the clear water.

You had your eyes closed, as the sun was shining directly on your face, and Reid tried to avert his gaze from the curves of your body, which were now visible through your soaked clothes. He felt slightly embarrassed by the improper thoughts that crossed his mind, thoughts he couldn’t control.

“Swimming?”

“The nature. The village is so gray and sad… everything here is better.”

The man hummed, as if to say that he agreed with you. Suddenly, he felt a couple of fairies fluttering around him, and the movement of their wings tickled him, making him laugh.

“Do mermaids exist?”

“They do, but only in the open sea. You should be careful with the sirens.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Mermaids can be benevolent if they wish. But sirens’ sole task is to seduce sailors and lure them to the bottom of the sea; they attract them with their song and beauty.”

“I didn’t know there were so many creatures I had to worry about, not just witches. No offense.”

“Oh, Reid. You humans are missing out on a whole world,” you teased, swimming right up to him “The difference is that witches don’t try to seduce you. We’re a bit more practical.”

“That would be a good strategy.”

“Do you want a witch to seduce you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to one side to look at him.

“No! I mean… using beauty to attract people with reason might be effective. I suppose.”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t too many candidates who interest us. Most of them are grouchy, horrible old men. Although, well… there are always exceptions to the rule.”

Were you flirting with him? From the way you were looking at him, he thought it was entirely possible.

“Anyway, all it would take to make a man fall for us is putting a bit of love potion in his tea. It wouldn’t be hard.”

“Now I understand why my tea tastes weird lately.”

There was something unspoken in your teasing, something suggestive, even sinful. Yes, because the idea that a witch and a witch hunter could have that kind of tension was ridiculous. Unthinkable.

You both stared at each other for a second, waiting for the other to say something, but that didn’t happen.

“Are our things still where we left them? There are goblins in this forest too, and they tend to be quite mischievous.”

“They are,” he quickly answered.

You smiled and, with a nod of your head, invited him to follow you, then began swimming in an unknown direction.

You chatted for a while as you swam, and little by little, the sky turned orange, signaling that sunset was approaching. You were in an area surrounded by grass, where more fairies sparkled around than Reid had ever seen before, making the atmosphere visually stunning.

“We should head back. They might wonder where you are,” you suggested, glancing at the sky “Tonight is a full moon. A perfect occasion for a human sacrifice, and I don’t want any speculation.”

Your tone was playful, and just as he was about to respond, everything suddenly seemed to slow down. Behind you, there was a whirlpool in the water, and by the time he tried to warn you, it was too late. The natural phenomenon swallowed you up immediately, almost as if your body were in free fall.

Reid was seized by panic. His area of expertise didn’t involve bodies of water, but he knew how dangerous a whirlpool could be, as it could cause you to drown.

Without wasting time, he dove underwater and spent almost a painful minute trying to grab one of your limbs to pull you toward him. When he finally succeeded, your body was heavy and limp, making him fear the worst.

When he managed to resurface, he swam with you to the shore, carefully laying you down. While lying next to you, he called your name several times, moving your head to get you to respond, but nothing happened.

“Come on! Wake up!” he urged, his voice filled with evident desperation.

Suddenly, he remembered some of his knowledge of the human body and, albeit fearfully, began pressing on your chest to try to expel the water from your lungs. Every few compressions, he leaned in to give you mouth-to-mouth, hoping it would be enough to revive you.

When he finally heard you gasp and saw you roll onto your side to vomit all the water, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?” you asked, disoriented.

Reid was nearly hovering over you, holding your cheeks with both hands as if to assess your condition, his honey-colored eyes locked onto yours.

“A whirlpool. I tried to warn you, but it already had you.”

“Oh…” you exhaled, still coughing a bit. It took you a second to process it “And you saved me?”

“Of course. Who else would it be?” he muttered, almost in a reproachful tone.

A small smile crossed your lips.

“So, is this going to become a habit? Saving each other’s lives?”

It wasn’t until that moment that you both became aware of how close you were. His wet body was pressed against yours, and Reid could feel your chest firmly against his. He was still holding your cheeks.

You stared at each other. His eyes, his beautiful and gentle eyes, were fixed on yours. Just breathing a little heavier would have allowed you to feel each other’s breath, your noses practically brushing.

Once again, you faced a dilemma. You could have gotten rid of him a long time ago. Not once, but many times. And he could have done the same without consequences. But that was never your intention; it was useless to keep pretending.

And then, it just happened. It felt natural for both of you to lean in and close the distance, sealing your lips together without any need for explanation.

Your kisses said it all. They said: I care about you. They said: I was afraid I was going to lose you. They said: I know you’re not evil like the others. And they said: I know you’re not ruthless like them.

Suddenly, the contact didn’t seem to be enough, and Reid positioned himself over you to continue kissing you, with no protest from your side. You could feel the heat beneath you, and he undoubtedly felt the same. His free hand firmly gripped your side, almost massaging the soft parts of your torso. You held him tightly, your fingers tangled in the wet curls of his hair.

And so, within a matter of minutes, you both gave in to the unrestrained passion that had been growing inside you for the past few months.

He was good to you, careful. You reciprocated, caressing him gracefully and whispering sweet words in his ear.

The thin ice you had both been walking on didn’t even exist anymore. It had shattered at that moment, and all that remained was an intense fire engulfing the both of you.

You just had to be careful that a heat like that didn’t turn into a pyre.

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