"Una bonita mujer veo. U belleza quemaduras tan brillante como el sol. El amor me antes de que yo muera," Lucio's singing voice rang throughout the small space of the carriage, every note beautifully bouncing off the walls as if they were coming straight out of a record.

It had been a day since the surprise attack and the time had been spent repairing King Alban's damaged carriage and arranging necessities for their journey to the castle. The body of heavy wood rattled as it wheeled over the uneven dirt pathway, jostling its passengers and cargo every time it rolled over pieces of rock. Edward wasn't having the time of his life sitting on a makeshift cart in tow.

It was midday and the sun shined brightly through the spaces in between the leaves of the trees, showering the two traveling carriages with sparkling light. Hansel sat with a leg over the other and a lazy lean on the windowsill, his chin boringly resting on the palm of his hand as he stared at the window. Ben sat beside him, looking mesmerized as he listened. The contrast between the two men was almost comical.

"El amor me antes de que yo muera," Lucio finally finished, spreading out his arms in a theatrical manner.

"Wow, you're an amazing singer," Ben said, still awing at the Spanish man sitting across from them.

"Gracias, amigo," Lucio said with a smile and a tip of his hat, "It's all practice. Would you like to join me?"

"Er… I can't sing," Ben said embarrassingly.

"Nonsense, anyone can sing! If you sing from your corazón, it's as genuine as it can be," Lucio urged him, then turned to Hansel, "You too, amigo! The amazing Hansel must have more talents other than hunting witches."

Hansel shifted uncomfortably at the insistence of him singing. He didn't deny that Lucio really had one of the best voices he'd heard throughout his life, but he, himself, singing? He did not like the idea at all; it was almost embarrassing to just think about.

"No, thanks," Hansel replied, sitting himself up from his slouch, "The only talent I have is shooting witches in the head."

Lucio gave a hearty laugh, "Ay, I have that same talent too, amigo. But I'm sure you have a good singing voice as well."

For the first time throughout their trip, Hansel suddenly remembered that the energetic, warm-spirited, and laid back Spanish man they rode the carriage with was a witch hunter just like him and Ben. The man had taken out a witch by himself with ease, for crying out loud. His playful demeanor and extensive singing the last few hours had pushed that fact out of Hansel's head.

The other two as well, riding with Gretel and Alban in the king's carriage ahead of them, who exactly were they? He didn't recognize, or even heard of, any of them. And he found it extremely odd that it had barely been twenty-four hours and they were already supposed to work closely with strangers they barely knew. He didn't like that idea at all either… on top their personalities.

But at least this Lucio was approachable enough.

"Lucio, if you don't mind me asking again," Hansel said, "Who are you and who are the others?"

"Witch hunters, senor," Lucio replied with a smile, "just like you and Benjamin here."

"Yeah, I got that much," Hansel was beginning to get irritated, "But who exactly are you three? Where did you come from? How did you start hunting witches? How are you able to survive without protection from white magic? "

Lucio's smile faltered and was replaced by a line as he returned Hansel's stare. Ben noticed the sudden change and awkwardly glanced between the two older men, afraid that Hansel had stepped on a sensitive toe.

The silence between them ensued and the rattling of the carriages' wheels and the sounds of the horses' hooves took over. The air felt as if it were growing thicker by the second. After a few more moments of the stare down, Lucio sighed and took off his hat.

"Ay, I don't know if my answer is a sufficient one," he said, sighing again and fiddling with the leather, "But seeing that the lot of us are allied now without a choice, I should at least offer some sort of response."

Ben and Hansel exchanged questioning glances and returned their attention back to Lucio.

"Where do I begin… Ah, let's start with Selma, hm? She's the one I thank for teaching me how to survive in this witch hunting game."

"What do you mean?" Hansel asked.

"Exactly what I said, amigo. As you saw, she's a tough woman- almost as scary as my own mother," Lucio chuckled.

"I was a street vendor in a small town down in España when I first met the missus. Mi madre and I were barely making it through the days with the little money we had between each other, so you can imagine how hard it was for us in such a large country. We lived in a small makeshift cabin in the outskirts of our town since we couldn't afford the pesetas to live in any home- even an inn for long.

One night, when I was making my way back home from selling the little trinkets mi madre made, I got this… this mal sentimiento- a bad feeling. Witches in Spain are much more aggressive than the others in all of Europe, as I assume you know."

Hansel nodded and Ben just continued to stare. Lucio's face darkened.

"I came home and found my mother half eaten on the floor," he said solemnly, "Blood was everywhere, amigos, a terrible sight. A witch was leaning over her in the middle of devouring her insides; I thought I was going to hurl what little I had in my stomach."

"Oh god," Ben breathed and clutched the chest of his leather vest.

"Before I could comprehend what was happening, anger took over my fear and I charged at the witch to save what was left of my mother," Lucio continued and looked down at his feet, "I didn't know what I was doing; all I knew was that I was angry. But I was no match for her. Spanish witches are as strong and wild as bulls. I was on the verge of death no matter how hard I fought, amigos."

"Then that Selma woman saved you," Hansel said, his eyes riveted on the Spanish man. Lucio nodded.

"Si, she came out of nowhere with that rifle of hers. Blasted that bitch with one shot right in between the eyes. Clean," Lucio clicked his tongue and jerked his finger to imitate a shot of a gun.

"I remember that night well. As I sat there on the dirt ground all battered and bruised and a big gash right across my chest, she looked down at me with the most piercing eyes I'd ever seen. 'You're welcome,' she said."

"What a pleasant woman," Hansel said sarcastically.

"What happened after that?" Ben asked apprehensively. The boy was absolutely hooked onto Lucio's story.

"She just left," Lucio said, "but I followed her for days, even when she threatened to kill me. Where else was I supposed to go? I was a grown man with no ties since my mother was dead. I was still angry that my own mother was a victim of the witch plague. I wanted revenge, just like you and Gretel, Hansel."

"Seems like we have that much in common," Hansel said. Lucio gave a small smile.

"So Selma ground me to the floor, saying if I were to stick around with her I'd have to be able to keep up or else she'd kill me herself," he continued, "I've been in alliance with her ever since."

"What about the other one? Callahan, if I heard his name right," Hansel asked.

"He's only been with us for a year, even more out of nowhere than Selma was. We came across him in Ireland," Lucio said, his lips back to being a flat line, "I've never heard him speak a word before, but I guess you can say his actions make up for that. However, with that silence, neither Selma nor I know much about him."

"But he's insanely strong," Ben commented as he recalled how ruthless the man Callahan was the day before.

"Heh, si, don't let that handsome face fool you," Lucio chuckled, "Out of the three of us, Senor Callahan is physically the strongest- even Selm is still wary of his strength sometimes."

"What about Selma, what's her story?" Hansel asked, his curiosity to learn more about the three strangers growing, "Especially if she's geared up enough to start hunting witches by herself."

"Ay, lo siento, I honestly don't know much," the Spanish man sighed, "She's a widow as vengeful as we are and that's all she's ever mentioned to me. But a warning, Hansel…"

"What?" Hansel questioned. Ben glanced between the two men, taken off guard by the sudden cautionary.

"It's best if you steer clear of Selma's undivided attention, no matter how much you feel provoked. Callahan may be the strongest out of our little trio, but he remains obedient under her command for a reason: that woman is the as vicious as a lion with the unstoppable resolve to eliminate anything and everything that vexes her enough."

Lucio stared straight right into Hansel's eyes.

"And she isn't very fond of you and your sister."

"Wow, this place is amazing," Ben gasped.

The castle's structure towered over them in a grand loom under the setting sun. The intricately designed building was surrounded with thick, concrete walls that rose three times of Edward's height and homed within thick forest that separated it from the nearest town two miles away. Gold glittered under the light, marvelous marble shined with brilliance, and the gates stood fearsome and impenetrable.

The travelers disembarked from the two carriages and horses, hauling their weapons and other insignificant luggage. The trip had not been too long, but being cramped into two carriages for a couple hours proved to still be exhausting.

"Thank you, my boy," King Alban beamed as he slipped out from his carriage after Gretel, "It's my great-great grandfather's pride and joy. The poor old man took ten years to build it."

"What shall we do now, Your Highness?" one of his knights approached the lingering group at the foot of the castle's entrance, looking tired but remained obedient nonetheless.

"You and the others have a rest," Alban replied, "But first, inform Hawthorne that he's to have audience with our guests in one hour."

With a nod, the knight left with the others drove the carriages away around the grand courtyard to the back of the castle, the creaking of wood and metal fading.

"Now, let me show you inside shall I?" Alban said after heaving a huge sigh.

The group followed the limping king towards the entrance of his grand castle, one of his butlers coming to his aid when it came to walking up the stairs. Gretel observed his struggling body and deduced that Alban was in much more pain than he was letting on- to keep up the image, she supposed. Her detailed eye didn't cease to notice his minute winces and twitches, but out of respect, Gretel decided to keep her deduction to herself.

They entered the large stone building and were bombarded with more of the magnificence of royalty. Velvet curtains and rugs, sleek rock floors, shining armor standing idly by on the sides of the lobby, an admirable double staircase leading up to three separate hallways, and a ceiling so high their footsteps echoed in the empty space above. The sight was even more awesome on the inside.

"Bello y magnifico," Lucio breathed and took of his hat as if to salute to the overbearing grandness. Maids and subjects were bustling around, carrying out their daily tasks and ignoring the newcomers.

"Here is the main lobby and the two ground doors lead down to the lower level; just beneath that are the dungeons," Alban explained, "Above in the upper floors are the numerous rooms that serve several purposes. Despite the castle's big size, there are always my assistants about if you ever need service. Please, make yourselves at home."

Alban smiled at them over his shoulder and then addressed two other butlers standing by waiting for instruction, "Henry, Arthur, please escort the gentlemen and ladies to respective guest rooms. Have them down in the Hawthorne's hut in one hour."

"Yes, your Highness," they replied, bowing.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be tending to some business while you're being settled in," the king said with another smile and a small wave.

Suddenly, he winced and clenched his teeth in pain the second his shoulder rose at the gesture. His butlers automatically came to his side with everyone else slightly alarmed by his spasm. Alban clenched his right shoulder and swore under his breath.

"King Alban, are you okay?" Ben frantically asked.

"What's wrong?" Selma said and got a pained smile in return.

"I'm afraid my collarbone is broken as well as my shoulder from the attack," he chuckled, "I thought it was just extreme soreness but apparently it's much more dire than that."

"You need to be checked out right away," Gretel interjected, her assumption clarified, "You shouldn't be walking around like this without being treated."

"I'm also afraid that my only physician is currently off on his own journey to Italia," Alban said, "I have no choice but to endure it for the time being, I suppose."

"Edward knows how to treat wounds and make remedies," Gretel offered. Over the year, Edward had grown to be their healer for whenever injury struck any of them, despite being the troll in their group. Even if he wasn't a real physician, the least any of them could do was make the pain bearable and she believed Edward was the best choice at the moment.

"Callahan knows as well," Selma said after her and Lucio nodded in agreement. The others turned to look at them, a little surprised. They'd never guess that someone that brutal, who mercilessly threw around and barraged a witch with raining bullets, would posses that type of skill. It was odd, too odd, for Hansel's liking. It was almost unbelievable.

"We shall take you to the infirmary," Henry, one of the butlers, said without even asking for consent, "Sir Faust left it unlocked during his leave in case of crisis, so you will be able to find everything you need in there."

"Callahan, go ahead, do what you can," Selma nodded at him to follow the butler. The young man nodded and moved.

"Let's go, Edward," Gretel said and tugged on the troll's shirt.

"What, you're going too?" Hansel asked, annoyed.

"With one mute and one troll who isn't exactly a talker, someone has to be the mediator," she replied sharply and followed the others who were already making their way up the steps.

Hansel sighed and exchange glances at Ben who merely just shrugged. As her brother, he knew that Gretel did not want to be one-upped, so she was solely going with them for the purpose of making sure Alban was going to be healed by their side's efforts.

He did not like this.

King Alban's butlers led the group up into the castle's library, which turned out to be a sight as awesome as the lobby and the rest of the whole place. Thousands of intricately bound books were neatly organized on shelves that rose to the height of the high walls with a ladder standing idly by to the side. A large, black chandelier hung in the middle of the room, its candles unlit. Gretel soaked in the scene and felt as if the mountains of pages that were fingertips' distance were taking her breath away. But one thing was odd.

"Your library is your infirmary?" she asked curiously.

"Heavens, no," King Alban chuckled, "Sir Faust had a knack for books, in particular medical ones, so he requested the infirmary be transferred adjacent to the library. This way!"

He lead them to a pair of large doors on the right wall of the library, walking in pain as he did, and had his butlers open the door in a ceremonious manner. Inside were a few fancy looking beds that were propped up against the walls across from each other and a counter full of medical instruments and items sat in the far corner of the room. Despite being a clinical setting, the infirmary was still grand and it was hard to believe that this wasn't just a guest's bedroom.

"King Alban," Gretel said as they all entered. She just wanted to get down to business, "Have a seat and Edward will observe you and do whatever needs to be done. He's experience with healing."

The king smiled and his eyes twinkled as he sat himself down, "Of course. But ah, I do love how you've already taken charge, Gretel. I appreciate it very, very much."

Gretel was caught off guard by the compliment and slightly flushed a faint pink. However, she was glad that she could use their current situation as a distraction from her little moment of fluster.

"Edward," she nodded at the troll to begin. He grunted with a nod and approached the king with careful eyes. As Edward began his observation, Gretel noticed Callahan exiting the infirmary room and back into the library. Curious as to where he was going, she followed him, peered out the doorway, and saw that he was browsing through the large archive book sitting in the middle of the room. His brow scrunched in thought as he quickly flipped through its pages and skimmed down the text.

"What are you doing?" Gretel asked aloud even though she knew she probably wouldn't get a response- verbally at least.

Callahan only glanced at her over his shoulder for a brief moment then went back to his searching. His fingers smoothly slid down the edge of the parchment before every turn of a page, the sounds crisp. After a few minutes, Callahan suddenly moved away from the archive book and made his way towards the shelves on the left.

Gretel continued to watch him go from shelf to shelf trying to find whatever he was trying to find and after a few more moments, the tall young man stopped at one of the lower shelves and bent down to trace his finger along the spines of the books. His finger halted at a green spine, slipped the book out from the shelf, and briskly walked back to where Gretel was standing.

"What's this?" Gretel asked when Callahan handed her the book. He didn't reply and merely looked at her with eyes full of purpose. She was hesitant for a moment, not knowing what this entailed, but she looked down to see that the word "Magica" was intricately engraved in gold atop the green leather.

What? she thought, suddenly confused. Magica. Latin for magic.

But before she could say anything, Callahan quickly took hold of her wrist and pulled her back into the infirmary where Edward was still examining the king.

"How's he looking, Edward?" Gretel asked. The troll looked up with a face she didn't like and shook his head.

"Hard… to fix," he said slowly in a gruff voice.

Callahan reached for the small pack on his belt and took out a stack of small pieces of parchment twined together. He took out a fountain pen from his leg holster and began to furiously scribble something on the parchment. He raised it towards Gretel for her to read.

"The wound is too serious and will take long to heal. If you want him fixed up sooner than later, use magic," it said. Gretel looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"Use magic?" she asked out loud to no one in particular.

Of course she was well aware that she was, by blood, a witch- and a white one at that. However, the mere idea of her actually using magic seemed preposterous. Ridiculous. Ludicrous. Crazy. It went against everything she and her brother had lived their lives for in the last 16 years.

She looked at Edward and the troll's face looked disturbed. It was clear he didn't like the idea either, but from the lack of any, more visible, protest it was also obvious he didn't think there was another way either. No, she had to think about this… but she also couldn't just leave the king hanging in mid-air especially when she offered the help in the first place. She decided to stall.

"First," Gretel said, her voice slightly cracking from the thoughts racing in her head. It was a good cover; she really did want to know.

"King Alban, I'd like to know why you have books for magic in your library."

The king's eyebrows rose like he'd forgotten to mention something.

"Ah," he said, lightly chuckling, "Well, my father and my predecessors believed that in order to survive in this world of witches, we need to learn anything and everything we can about them. The collection of witchcraft books has grown over the years as you've probably noticed from fetching that book. For the majority, it's the reason why this kingdom has been free of witches for a century."

"I see," Gretel said. Her mind was torn between two different things that needed her attention at that moment. She couldn't decide which to address first: the fact that the king possibly knew more about witches than her and her brother or her decision on using magic? The king then cut into her thoughts.

"Hunting witches for so long, I'd assume you're familiar with how their magic works," he said, as if he was reading into her hesitance. His little offer of comfort suggested that, he too, found the idea of using healing magic much more favorable than any other alternative.

"We've only hunted dark witches, not white ones," Gretel said.

"Even so, I've heard rumors that your mother was the Great White Witch, if my term is correct," Alban said, gleaming, "I imagine you to be just as amazing, even if your story's a much different one."

Her time was up. She had to decide.

But… how would she even do it? It wasn't like she'd actually used magic before. She and Hansel had only fought against magic. And if it was one thing she'd learned during their witch hunting years, though, it was that a witch couldn't conjure any magic without the use of a wand. If she decided to go with the healing magic approach, she would need a wand, but the closest thing to that would be Muriel's that had stayed tucked away in one of her packs in the past year.

It looked like she had no choice. Would it even work, especially with a black witch's wand? How did magic even work in the first place?

"I know you're able to do it, Gretel," Alban said, his eyes and smile soft- reassuring and comforting, "It's in your blood."

Gretel stared back, her mind furiously calculating other avenues to fixing the problem. What else was there to do? She didn't know. After a few moments of apprehensive silence, she threw all her trust in her intuition and answered with hazy determination in her voice.

"Alright, let me read through these spells for a moment. We'll get you all fixed up in no time, King Alban."

Hansel walked down the dimly lit underground hallway, kicking aside rubble as he did. After their meeting with Hawethorne two hours ago, Alban's army lead, the plan was set to barricade the castle as much as they could leaving no crack open and leaving no opportunity for anything to move inside or out. That drastic plan called for the needs of a fortress, meaning large supplies food, gunpower, and anything of necessity stored behind the castle's walls so the whole staff was currently on the move to begin their preparations. They had no time to waste.

Hansel heaved a sigh as he continued to walk and scan the hallways for anything suspicious. He, Ben, Selma and Lucio had been stuck with the task of scouting out the perimeter and underground of the castle for anything out of the ordinary- Hawthorne reasoning that they were the most experienced in fighting witchcraft if there were any of "those bitches" already roaming about.

To say the least, the last two hours were uneventful being only accompanied by torches, old equipment, worn paintings, the underground cold, and mildew. The only sounds to come to his ears were the pitter-patter of rats and his own feet on the cold stone floor. It'd been two hours and it still seemed like he had more of the maze to go through. Exactly how large this whole place was… he didn't know. It was pretty damn big, if he had to describe it to someone.

Suddenly, his eyes caught something different from all the other doors he'd passed by. This particular one on his left had two torches sitting above and either side of the large slab of wood and metal and adorned a sign.

non intrant, it neatly said in red paint atop molded parchment. Do Not Enter.

Aside from the sign, nothing visibly barricaded anyone from disobeying its orders. And from the emptiness of the underground it was obvious that hardly anyone came down to the place. Hansel assumed that was the reason why the door wasn't so secure; the sign was just a sign and it tickled his curiosity. It was the closest thing to anything suspicious, after all, and he didn't trust the king the slightest bit. A little exploring wouldn't hurt.

"I wouldn't try to open that door if I were you," a sharp, but smooth, voice suddenly said from down the hall.

Hansel let go of the handle and whipped his head to find Selma standing a few feet away with her arms folded. Lucio's warning suddenly surfaced in his mind and here he was, completely alone with the woman. Amazing timing and twist of fate.

"And why is that?" he asked casually. He wasn't afraid of her, but was definitely still cautious. He absolutely knew nothing about her aside from what he'd seen back in Linderwood. Selma slightly raised her chin and switched her weight over to her left side.

"Is it typical for you vigilante bounty hunters to be so disobedient to authority?" she shot at him with calm electricity.

"I don't know if that's supposed to be an insult but as I recall, you're a vigilante bounty hunter yourself," Hansel ticked, "After all, you called yourself, and those other two, witch hunters."

Selma gave a curt laugh and released her arms to her sides, "Unlike you, we don't do it for money."

She paced towards and past him, glancing at him with scrutinizing eyes as she did. It was like a snake circling its prey before it went in for the kill. It wouldn't surprise Hansel one bit if she did lash out right that second.

"Oh?" he followed her with his eyes, "Then what for?"

"I'm sure you've gotten Lucio to tell you our stories from what I can tell of your suspicion," Selma said, stopping in place a few feet away with her hands put atop her hips, "It's quite simple, really: revenge."

Hansel mentally rolled his eyes at how she pretentiously seemed to talk to him like he knew nothing of the term. It was as if she expected him to be surprised by her answer. Has she really not heard of his and his sister's story? Better yet, has she really not even heard of them in general? Amazing.

"Yeah? Well join the club, sister," Hansel said sarcastically, folding his arms in reflex.

He really did not like this woman and probably disliked her as much as King Alban. She and the others have been witch hunters for three years? Hell, he and Gretel have been that class of vigilantes for sixteen years. This woman had no right to prance around in front of them and wave her gun around like she was the queen of all who hunted witches… But then again, she did show impressive skill and that fact was still on the other side of Hansel's thoughts.

Selma narrowed her eyes at his jab and slowly approached him, her boots' heels clicking over the stone floor. Hansel's eyes followed her again and he suddenly felt his muscles tense out of apprehension that crept on him from out of nowhere. The woman abruptly stopped an arm's length away and continued to glare at him with eyes he couldn't read.

He held his breath at her close distance, realizing that he was still unafraid but just merely uncomfortable. Lucio's warning rang in his head again and echoed as if his conscience was scolding him for provoking her- exactly what the Spanish man said not to do.

Before he could completely process the next few seconds, Selma drew a dagger from her belt and swung at him with so much speed that Hansel barely dodged the blade in time. He stepped backwards and instinctively reached for an old metal shield propped up against the wall with other rusting weapons. The dagger's blade came in swift contact with the rusty metal and sent a loud clang up and down the hallway in which they stood.

"Fast," Selma said, a small, devilish smile coming to her lips. She dragged the blade up the shield and pulled it back, the grinding noise and clang ringing in their ears. Hansel jerked the shield back and regained his footing.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked aggressively, twice as cautious.

Selma repeatedly tossed the dagger in her hand- catching it expertly by the hilt every time- as she casually shifted her weight to her right.

"You're fast," she said, then she suddenly lunged at him like a cobra, "But not fast enough."

In the next seconds that followed, Hansel didn't know how he managed to evade her quick movements. Maybe it was because he resorted to animalistic instinct, with the reflexes mechanized to stay alive. His body quickly moved on its own as his hand grabbed Selma's arm, threw her against the wall like a mallet and pinned her neck to the wall with his free arm. Everything was happening too fast for him to completely comprehend.

"I don't know what the hell your deal is, but stay away from me and my sister," he said, his heart beating up against his chest. He was playing with the snake for too long and for all he knew, she just let him overpower her. Selma was unpredictable.

She laughed with obvious arrogance under his hold, "Listen here, dog-"

"No, you listen," Hansel said in a dangerously low voice, "If you do anything, and I mean anything, to hurt my sister- and I don't give a fuck if that King Alban hired you to work with us. I'll have your head. Do you hear me?"

Selma smirked and Hansel couldn't help but find the smug look the slightest bit attractive. The woman was physically appealing, yes, but her attitude pissed him off in a way that it was actually uncharacteristic.

"Men," she chuckled darkly as she gripped off his arm pinning her neck against the wall. Hansel's body oddly didn't make a move against hers, only watching her as she began to walk away like nothing happened.

"Caveat," Selma said, smirking briefly at him briefly before facing forward again. Hansel watched her go until her silhouette and the clicking of her heels disappeared down the hallway. A small haunting tingle ran down his neck from her last word.

'Beware'.

Night came a lot quicker than any of them expected, but it was no surprise with how busy they were getting the necessary preparations ready. They were all so absorbed in their designated tasks that their attention to time was completely divided. And after a long afternoon of restless work and his encounter with Selma, all Hansel wanted to do was have a nice rest to ease the waves of his mind. In turn, the only thing he liked about the whole place was the big, luxurious bed in the guest room he and Gretel were to stay in. It looked like a good night's sleep already.

However, there was a lack in the exchange of words between the two siblings as they were preparing for bed and it irked Hansel. He hadn't seen his sister for most of the day and he had no idea how things went down when she walked off with the king, Edward, and Callahan. The quiet was unusual and made him wonder if something happened.

"So how did you guys fix the guy's broken bones so quickly?" he asked after a few more moments of silence. He honestly didn't care of the King's trivial well being, but it got him curious and the silence needed to be killed. Two birds with one stone.

"It seemed like he was as good as new."

"I…" Gretel's voice trailed off when hesitance suddenly came over her. She knew that this was coming and that she had to answer to it sooner or later. It was the dreaded event, but being truthful was the also the only way of approaching it; Gretel could not bring herself to lie to her beloved brother, especially when promises had been made. It wouldn't have been right and he'd never lied to her before.

"There was no other way of healing his broken bones quickly enough," she said slowly, "So I used magic."

Silence. It had gotten so quiet that they could almost hear the candlelight's dances.

"You what?" Hansel said. His face was more expressive than usual under the moonlight: a mix of utter surprise and boiling anger. Did his sister just say she used magic? Magic, the Of course his sister was a witch; that fact had been realized from the second they learned their mother was a Great White witch… but neither of them had actually explicitly

"We had no other choice," Gretel calmly said, outwardly unfazed by her brother's outburst, "Magic was the quickest solution before the pain started to be too much."

Hansel stared back at his sister and didn't know what to think or feel. Apart from their oath to never speak of their parents that they had made back when they were still children, it was almost like a silent promise between them that Gretel was to stick with the position as a witch hunter, not a witch despite having the ability from inheritance.

And another thought came to his head: Gretel's attitude had lifted, though not dramatically, ever since they'd met up with Hawethrone again to construct more plans. It was odd, even odder than her already unusually hostile demeanor. And that attitude had been bothering him so much that it already felt sort of normal even though it'd only been apparent for an insignificant amount of time. Had something happened between her and Alban that he should know about? Hansel swore on his mother that he'd slaughter the king with no mercy if-

"The magic," Gretel's voice cut into his blaring thoughts, "was apparently building up inside me. It's been lying untouched for my whole life, Hansel, and it was finally starting to seep out. At least, that's what King Alban told me from observation."

"He awfully seems to know a lot about witches," Hansel commented disdainfully with suspicion that he didn't bother to hide. He now didn't care of his sister's bad attitude as of late and transferred his negative attention to the newly surfaced bother with King Alban and Gretel's use of magic.

"Well, what do you expect?" Gretel said, frowning as she looked down on the sheets of the bed thoughtfully, "Living in a place where there have been no witches for the longest time… you're doing nothing but fearing of a witch attack that would come sooner or later. The way King Alban handled that was by learning all he could about them; he's just following what his father and grandfather and the rest before him did. He even has a collection books in his library about witches, including spell books that he curated."

"What is he now, a wizard?" Hansel scoffed. The suspicion didn't leave him and he disliked the king more and more the longer they were talking about the guy.

"No, just a king preparing for the worst if it was going to come to that," Gretel said, slightly shaking her head and climbing into bed next to Hansel, "Like our situation now, if you want an example."

Hansel scoffed again and grabbed one of his sister's wrists firmly. He slightly jerked her towards him as if she wouldn't look or listen to him otherwise. It wasn't his usual nature to be so aggressively upfront, but there were things to be said and he was going to say them.

"Gret, listen to me," he said seriously, his eyes hard and cold, and jaw so tight that Gretel thought it was about to crack, "I don't want you to use magic ever again, do you understand? We're witch hunters and have been for more than half our lives. You may be a witch, but you've committed your life to something more than that."

"I'm still a witch, Hansel, no matter how much you want to deny it," Gretel said, "and so was our mother. If you deny her then you're denying me, too."

Hansel froze. He didn't expect their little talk to end up twisting into a sensitive one. She'd struck a sensitive spot, bring herself as well as their mother into the conversation. Still, he felt betrayed somehow. Sixteen years of fighting witches side-by-side for revenge with his sister and now she was using the Dark or white witch… at this point he refused to see any difference as anger started to slowly come over him.

"Whatever," he grumbled and threw himself under the covers, facing away from her, "Good night."

"Hansel…" Gretel said softly.

He didn't move and said nothing as he closed his eyes. The discussion was over for he couldn't endure it much longer and he didn't want to impulsively lash out at his sister. This was all crazy and it felt like everything was loosening at the seams. Still, he didn't want to give any response no matter how much it tugged at his chest.

Gretel sighed and it was the last thing Hansel heard before the room went dark. The last of the candles' smoke and light quickly vanished into the night.

Wooooow it's been so long since I last updated LOL. I am so sorry for the long wait. You're all probably wanting to kill me right now but I'm just glad that I've finally gotten the 5th chapter out haha. It was sitting in my files unfinished for the longest time.

Anyway! I don't think I have any notes for this chapter. But it's the same as always: any kind of feedback is always welcome! I still love getting reviews and opinions (opposing and favorable alike) so please don't hesitate to drop one.

I'd also like to thank all of you for remaining loyal readers and for bearing with the long wait. I appreciate every single encouragement and criticism and it pushes me to continue writing so thank you, everyone! And I really hope you liked this chapter.

Thanks for reading! Until next time~

*****And oh, BAMFest is just badass motherfuckers and incest put together hahaha.