Witch of Words

One day there was a young girl, perhaps five or six years of age. Upon a new day, she’d been visiting an Empire’s capital along with her mother and sister, golden locks curling down all their backs. Eyes of violet they all bore, and simple clothes were what they wore. The small family of women visited, and the youngest one got lost. Cities bustled with humans, most dressed finely with only the best of the clothes they could don. The girl easily was guided away, away from the bustle and off into other areas. Around her was a dingy alleyway, littered with trash and dirt. “Hello, young one.” Cooed a couple, both shrouded in dark cloth. “Oh- hello!” Chimed the young girl, simply excited to meet new folk. And so the couple smiled, continuing a talk with the girl. They led her off, claiming to help her find those she’d lost. Off they wandered, away from the city, and away from the familiar areas. She simply grinned, bouncing along the way. Though, the girl never did find her way home. She awoke with hair colored brown, ears cut short and hidden, and donned in similar clothing to those she’d seen in the city. She was set near the Empire’s capital, and quite alone. Crumpled in her hand was parchment, a name written on it. She’d remember nothing, and chose those words as her name. So on did the girl whisper the name, a look of confusion across her visage as she slowly walked into the city. And now, the girl, now a woman, sat along a road. She looked different, in an indescribable way, simply reminiscing on times spent in places she regretted. She then remembered something she didn't quite remember before. A blurry scene becoming much more clear. “How odd… that’s new.” She uttered.

A rainy day a woman arrives in the town of Sedan. Water poured from the skies, a shawl wrapped ‘round her head and shoulders. A plain dress flowed down to the ground, taking away from the woman's looks. Sweet and fair, with plain azure eyes with a glint of some sort in them. Sandy curls peeked out from the shawl, albeit were mostly covered. - Tap, tap, tap… -Was heard from the notice board, quietly coming from the town square. The notice board had a new missive, one of a cream colored paper, and brown ink of some sort. A silver nail stuck out of the pressed parchment, and the ink, if inspected, smelt of rust. Within the parchment itself were specks of pink- pressed flowers, left inside the handmade paper, edges crisp and straight. “Sedan, Sedan, O’ lovely Sedan. How you were loved and cherished, yet hated too. Of a new generation, it would seem. Those of the war seem gone, disappeared as everything else does one day. You are not the worst out there. Yet even then, others are better. Too much pride for such a little place, it shall corrupt your minds and cause harm rather than good. Those who’ve disappeared do remember, the days of a war, the days of a war that resulted in little reward. A shame it is, dear Sedan. You must stay quiet on your feet, little Sedan. Be wary, be wary little town. Fret, worry, for it is required for your survival these days. Put aside your pride for the life of your home. - The Witch of Words"