At the monastery doorway, Hattie had just returned, carrying a basket toward the kitchen. Inside lay two fresh sea fish.
The sky had already begun to darken. She'd gone out earlier to trade with returning fishermen, securing the freshest catch.
In this era, iceboxes were far from commonplace. Fortunately, she could use magic to freeze the fish, keeping them fresh for days.
Her steps were light—her mood bright. Her master's magical studies had finally shown progress these past few days, and his physique had noticeably improved. She needed to keep up the effort, ensuring he got proper nourishment.
Lost in these happy, mundane thoughts, a familiar voice suddenly called from behind:
"Hattie, how have you been lately?"
She turned to see Sophia gliding toward her. Beneath the nun's habit, something writhed unnaturally. Clearly, the witch couldn't be bothered to maintain human legs within the monastery's walls, opting instead to move on her true pedipalps.
Hattie sighed inwardly, a headache brewing. This recklessness risks exposing the rest of us.
Oblivious, Sophia smiled warmly. "How have you been?"
Forcing a polite smile, Hattie replied, "All's well, dear sister. And you?"
After all, the other party had just lent her a large sum of money some time ago, and Hattie knew that this witch must have a lot of money to gain, so for the sake of the Master, she had to have a good relationship with her.
Sophia's smile faded. "Same as ever. The lost memories… they never return. Soon, I may lose everything—relying entirely on our sisters' mercy…"
Memory Witches forfeited fragments of their past during the Night of the Witches, sometimes even portions of their power.
In earlier years, the condition was manageable. But lately, Sophia's deterioration had accelerated…
She feared the next Night might strip her last shreds of sanity, leaving only a ravenous monster.
Hattie's expression softened with sympathy. She stepped closer, linking arms with Sophia. "It won't come to that. You're beloved here—we'll all help."
"Besides, the next Night of the Witches is surely over a year away, yes? Together, we'll find a solution!"
She meant to comfort. Yet instead of relief, Sophia's gaze turned oddly probing.
"Hattie... you really haven't sensed it at all?"
"Sensed what?" Hattie blinked.
"The Night of Witches," Sophia said quietly. "The next one is nearly upon us. A week at earliest, no more than two."
Like animals sensing an approaching earthquake, many evil creatures could feel it coming—the swelling magic, the twin moons hanging heavy in the sky.
Witches shared this nature. Though they couldn't pinpoint the exact date without consulting stars, calendars or divination spells, they could always sense its approach about a month in advance.
Hattie's face drained of color. She'd felt nothing—no warning at all!
Seeing her reaction, the experienced Sophia understood immediately. Her eyes filled with pity. "I assumed you borrowed money to prepare for the coming Night... but you truly didn't know?"
Every witch's method of surviving the Night was a closely guarded secret. Revealing it meant certain doom. So despite their friendship, Sophia had no idea how Hattie endured the cursed event.
Under that confused stare, Hattie forced an explanation: "I've been... preoccupied with other troubles lately. Must have missed the signs. Ah, thank you for the warning, Sister. I owe you again."
Her heart pounded as she finally voiced her frustration: "How can this be? Only six months since the last Night! This frequency is unnatural!"
Magical beings of the material world loathed the Twin Moons' Night—when evil gods stirred, monsters rampaged, and every faction suffered heavy losses.
But for supernatural creatures like witches, it was worse. Mortals might avoid the chaotic magic's effects through luck, but witches had no escape—they bore the full brunt of its corruption!
Only the eternally mad denizens of the Bottomless Abyss, power-hungry schemers, and malicious evil gods—beings strong enough to shake the world and wicked enough to enjoy doing so—could possibly welcome such nights.
Sophia sighed. "Who knows? The stars move as they will. Until the omens manifest clearly, none can predict the Night's timing."
Her expression grew graver. "Hattie... you may not want to hear this, but in this Sister's experience, losing sensitivity to the Night's approach... often heralds something terrible."
"So... you must take extra care of yourself."
With those ominous words and a final worried glance, Sophia departed. Hattie swallowed hard, her mind swirling with dread.
What's happening to me?
Why no warning at all?
Is it... because of Master?
Since being purified by his power, her body and magic had undergone subtle changes. What would happen when the Night came in this altered state?
No matter. Stick to the original plan and prepare properly!
But first... I must ensure Master's safety.
Steeling herself, Hattie carried the fish to the kitchen, then hurried toward Charles' room—only to find him already waiting, his face tight with concern.
The moment she entered, he grabbed her arm urgently:
"Hattie! Did you know you've got exactly ten days—238 hours to be precise—until your most hated 'Night of Witches' arrives?"
Hattie's eyes widened in shock.
"You... How... How do you know the exact timing?!"