Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

Outside the inn a pleasant breeze flowed, drifting languidly over the hills and fields. It flowed across the drying clothes on the line, sending them swaying and dancing. 

Autumn watched all this as she enjoyed her mouthwatering lunch in the sunny environment. The succulent meats and crisp fruits blended in an aromatic delight. All washed down with a cup of cider fermented from the Cramoisifruits she’d been introduced to. As she sipped the cider with her plate devoid of food, Autumn retrieved her witch’s tome from her belt where it was strapped. 

She still felt a little guilty about taking advantage of Nethlia’s hospitality despite the promise of reparation when her coinage was evaluated and exchanged. In a moment of introspection and reflection, she had sought a method within her tome that she could use to render aid to this quaint little community. 

Autumn didn’t have many skills that she could fall back on, especially in a strange and medieval-looking world, nor did she feel she was very good at conversing with strangers. But they might be more open to dealing with her if she had something they might want; if not for her lack of materials, the healing balm would work wonders to fulfill that role. 

Plus, she was excited about doing something appropriately magical and witchy.

Briefly flicking through the yellowed pages of the leather-bound book, she found three entries near the front that both intrigued her and seemed reasonably within her capabilities. 

Collecting emotions. 

Aura Imbuement.

Repair charm.

Each page promised to enhance her abilities and provide a solution to her immediate problem. Settling down upon the comfortable cushion of the breeze-blown grass, Autumn read.

Collecting emotions.

Now that you have established a hold over magic and drawn out the power nestled within your emotional coils, it is time to turn our (your) attention outwards; to other people and their collections of emotions and desires. 

Yes, I know, dealing with other people can be a torment and task all on its own, but if you don’t, you’ll forever limit yourself and the magicka you can wield. Why? It is simple, there is only so much emotion that can be harvested. Or else you’ll be hollowed out, as I wrote earlier. 

Now, unlike harvesting your own emotions, taking from others is rather different for reasons I won’t get into here. All you need to know is that it is. 

There are two fundamental ways to collect emotions, actively and passively. Both have positives and negatives to their usage, but first, you need to know how to sense emotions if you want to draw them out. Sensing emotions is a vital and natural part of a witch’s craft. You’ll inevitably sense them on your own over time, but I’ll help speed it up. 

Find yourself a nice, quiet place not too far from other people. Once there, try to block out as much stimulus as possible and focus on your emotions. After that, spread outwards, feel for the turbulence of the weave; feel for the resonance that emotions leave.

Go on and try it out now before you continue.

Closing her eyes, Autumn focused. She focused upon the crisp clean air as it filled her lungs, upon the chattering calls of the swooping birds and the resounding bellows of the cows. She allowed herself to relax.

Haltingly, her mind opened. 

With attentive care, she parsed through her feelings nestled within her chest; the familiar anxiety clawed at her heart and a haunting loneliness ravaged her with guilt. Screwing her eyes tight, Autumn pushed past them and began looking outwards. 

The soft breeze tickled her skin as she explored the weave of magic that hung diffuse in the space before her. 

Telling the emotions of others had never been her strong suit. Often she’d misread people or overdo things. Yet she’d been surprisingly at ease around Nethlia and Orzon both. If she had been subconsciously developing some sort of empathic cognizance, it would explain a lot. 

Focus, Autumn told herself.

The sun high in the ever-blue clear sky shone down a warming radiance that drove away the lingering memory of the chilled waters and the haunted dead’s touch. 

Colors bloomed behind Autumn’s eyes. At first, she simply thought her eyes were playing tricks upon her or that something had gotten in her eye, but no, it wasn’t that at all. Splashes of purest color enveloped her canvas of the mind. Each was one of her colors, blue of sadness, yellow of joy, the red fires of anger, and the familiar deep rich purple of harrowing fear. 

She supposed it made some sense; the mysteries of Magicka would have to conform in some way and why not wrap themselves about her artistically inclined mind? 

She related magic to art, after all.

Autumn forced her wandering imagination to focus once again. Pairing away her own palette from that canvas, she started seeing faint swirls of color dotted far away; likely in the tavern's direction if she were to open her eyes. 

In the center of her mind’s eye, a larger swirl of vibrant color grew closer and closer. So many emotions washed over her mind that they almost made up a world of their own. There within sat sadness so deep that no well could ever hope to reach the bottom and tamed anger that burned so hot it could set the world aflame. Opening her eyes in fright, the pure blazing orange of Nethlia met Autumn. 

For a dazzling moment of frozen time, the sight of a world of soul-bared emotions overlaid the towering demoness. It lay like the grandest of intimate paintings; no clothes nor masquerade could hide it from the young witch. 

Then it was gone.

Autumn felt like weeping as the visage fled; Nethlia’s emotional core made Autumn’s feel like a child’s scrawl in comparison. One day she hoped to paint something as beautiful. Perhaps she could, now that she could see that most vibrant, hidden world. 

Turning her drifting attention back to her approaching companion, Autumn attempted to bring back a small sliver of that kaleidoscope: amusement, curiosity, and a pang of fear. 

It wasn’t surprising, but it still stung.

She was a witch now. She’d have to get used to it. 

Sweat glistened upon the ruby-red skin of the demoness as she pushed her slick hair back and out of her eyes. The sweet smell of roasted meat clung to her as she sat down beside Autumn, the impact shaking the ground. 

“So tired~ How’d it go with Orzon? I saw your hand briefly, but I didn’t get a good look.” 

Nethlia huffed as she reclined, the sun sparkling across her form. 

Autumn tore her gaze away from the gold and purples in the air and allowed her power to fade. It wasn’t fair of her and she didn’t want to know.

With her Tome of Witchcraft held up as a shield, she answered.

“Just some light reading. Looking to see if there is anything I can do to help around with my spooky, scary witch magic.” 

A crooked grin slipped onto her lips as she watched the statuesque demoness tense for a moment, a shiver of fright running through her form before fading. 

“You don’t need to help out. We’re friendly people. Good hospitality is just what we do. I trust you’ll keep to your word.” 

Autumn shrugged.

“I just want to, that’s all. Plus, maybe I can earn some money once I make it to town.” 

“Fair enough. Also, I don’t think you’re scary.” 

“Does that mean you think I’m spooky, then?” 

Nethlia gave a cheeky smile.

“Hey, nothing wrong with being a little spooky.”

“Only a little? I’ll have to step up my game,” Autumn joked quietly. 

The bark of laughter that escaped the lounging demoness stoked a warmth in her chest. A shy smile crested Autumn’s face as the world seemed a little brighter in that moment of relaxation. 

Turning back to the book in her lap, she continued where she had left off. 

Now that you can sense emotions (don’t fret if you can’t, just keep practicing till you can), it’s time to move on.

Firstly, we’ll look at passive acquisition. 

Generally, most people will radiate a sort of miasma of emotion that’ll just bleed off into the atmospheric weave of magic. A savvy witch should take advantage of this by drawing in as much as they can. Within any large population center, this will be all the easier and nobody will be able to tell. On the downside, it won’t gain you as much as if you are directly harvested from the source, which leads us into active acquisition. 

Taking any sort of emotion from others is paradoxically harder and easier than just absorbing what leeches off. For starters, it will require targeting an individual who is feeling an abundance of whatever particular emotion you seek; you can imagine how hard that might be for a witch who collects anger. Secondly, sometimes the people you deal with may have something of a buyer’s remorse afterward (especially for positive emotions) and can be difficult to deal with. 

Take care when the torches and pitchforks are being handed out. 

As a final note, I have found in my long years of experience that it is always better to gain consent before harvesting emotions. It is possible to steal emotions but I strongly advise against that, you’ll become lesser than you were beforehand. Plus, it always draws in those pesky adventures who go on about “evil” and “vampiric corruption” blah. 

The next few lines Autumn skimmed over all amounted to various warnings and complaints about adventurers and their ilk. Autumn let out an amused snort at the tirade. 

“Is it a particularly amusing book?” Nethlia asked as she cracked an eye open at the cute noise. 

“A little. The previous owner didn’t seem to like adventurers much. Calls them ‘meddlesome vagabonds who wouldn’t know excellent tea if it came alive and smacked them in the rear.’” 

Nethlia huffed. “Rude.” 

Autumn arched an eyebrow curiously at the demoness, asking a silent question to which Nethlia obliged. 

“I was an adventurer for about ten years, give or take. Not to brag, but I was quite good at it too, made a name for myself and a pile of coins to boot. My ol’ Warhammer and I worked our way through a fair number of monsters and bandits.” 

Nethlia sighed wistfully. 

“Was? Did you retire or something? It wasn’t an arrow in the knee, right?” Autumn asked, as straight-faced as she could. 

“Huh? Oh, nothing like that. It’d take more than an arrow to force me out. No, my mother passed away is all. Some sickness did her in, I never found out what. It was an enormous shock to the community here. She was only in her mid-200’s.”

Autumn’s mind spluttered as she took in that particular detail. 

“Anyway, someone had to take over the tavern. None of the other villagers knew how to cook. Hah, old man Orzon burns water, get it? Cause he’s a blacksmith?” Nethlia joked. 

The humor fell on deaf eyes as Autumn’s head hung low as she wrestled with the rising panic attack inside. Stricken with dread, her throat clenched tightly and painfully. It wasn’t until she grasped onto her fear, wrenched it free, and secreted it away within her hat, she could calm. 

“I’m sorry. To hear that, that is. I…I…lost someone close to me, too.” 

Autumn’s mind rebelled at the thought of letting go, the thought of opening up.

“It’s ok,” Nethlia said as she raised her head to meet Autumn’s black eyes with her orange. “It took me a while to open up. You take your time too, ok?”

Their gaze remained locked together in a tight bond for a long silent moment as unspoken words passed between them. Autumn was the first to break the bind, wrenching her gaze away to let her long twilight mane and shadow hat cover her brightening cheeks.