Chapter 12: The Tower Welcomes Every Witch

Deep within the dense forest, a pristine white tower jutted abruptly from the sea of dark green.

Its body rose straight like an immense branchless tree, its surface glowing with a cold, pale sheen.

Its summit vanished into the ink-blue night sky, towering several times higher than the ancient trees around it, like a silver sword stabbed upside-down into the woodland.

There was no moon on the horizon.

Only sparse starlight was stitched across the velvet-black dome of night, even the last trace of twilight devoured clean.

Though it was only evening, the inside of the tower was darker than midnight.

The Star Witch, Isabena, sat at the center of a spinning astral formation, surrounded by countless motes of multicolored light that circled her slowly like a bound river of stars.

She knelt on the ground, her complexion nearly translucent, her lips drained of all color.

Her arms were so thin they looked ready to snap at a touch, the faint blue veins under her bare forearms clear as the grain in old branches.

Her white hair pooled across the floor, dusted with scattered sparkles of light, rising and falling with her shallow breaths.

Thick white bandages wrapped her body, only accentuating the fragile line of her shoulders and neck.

Only her small feet were exposed—her toes curled, the tops faintly flushed, like those of a brittle porcelain doll.

There was no pointed witch hat.

No broom etched with runes.

No towering piles of spellbooks reaching the ceiling.

Only endless darkness, and the orbiting lights around Isabena—so bright they were almost dazzling.

She tapped her fingertip lightly.

A blue light mote slid down to her palm, quivering faintly.

In this stillness, a slightly impatient woman’s voice abruptly shattered the dark:

“Star Witch.
Go on.
After all these years, what mess do you want me to clean up this time?”

Isabena coughed twice, her voice soft as feathers, tinged with weak raspiness.
“…Cough, cough… Can’t you at least call me by my name?
Caroline.”

“…Tsk.”
A sharp click rang in the dark.

“Fine, fine, Isabena.
What heavy labor are you dragging me into now?
And make it clear first—I’m busy.
With something very important.
If it’s not urgent, find another witch.
And anyway, your business is something I’ve never wanted to deal with.”

“Mm-hmm~ Thank you, dear Caroline.”
Isabena’s pale lips curved, a hint of color returning.
“You’re still such a tsundere.”

Thud!

“Hey!
What nonsense are you spouting?
Don’t twist things into weird directions!”

“You say you don’t want to bother with me, but the moment I call, you show up right away.
Hard-mouthed Caroline is truly adorable.”
Isabena twirled the light motes around her fingertips, her smile deepening.

“Can you not keep dragging the conversation into useless directions?”
Caroline’s voice dipped, carrying unmistakable embarrassment.

“Oh, oh~ Using scolding to dodge the topic?” Isabena covered her mouth and let out a muffled laugh, even forgetting to cough.

“I never expected the rigid Wind Witch to pull tricks like this.”

As she laughed, the surrounding darkness slowly receded, revealing Caroline.

Her long pale-green hair curled slightly at the ends, making her fair skin seem even whiter.

Her light-gold eyes were like early-autumn sunlight on leaf veins—bright but never harsh—and at the moment filled with helplessness.

She wore a fitted gray windcoat that cinched her waist tightly, its hem just covering her knees, paired with black short boots.

She was much taller than Isabena, and with the heel of her boots, Isabena had to look up to see her face.

Caroline stood just outside the circle of light motes, her toes raised slightly as if intentionally avoiding them.

“Can you be serious for once? If you keep this up, I’m really leaving.” Caroline crossed her arms, her brow furrowing.

“Aiya, getting angry so soon?”
Isabena let her smile fade, the light mote at her fingertips coming to a halt.
“Alright, alright, no more teasing.
This time… it’s something very, very important~”

She paused, lowering her voice.
“Last night, during my daily divination, I saw a very adorable child.”

At the word child, Caroline’s brows drew together sharply, her fingers unconsciously pinching her chin.

Thud!

“Isabena, you and I both know that’s impossible.
After the Greedy Moon ended, humans have been unable to birth witches.
The God-veins of every human were locked by the Light-Stealer with light-element seals.
No element in this world can break a shackle made of light.”
Caroline’s tone grew colder.

After hundreds of years of knowing each other, Caroline trusted Isabena unconditionally.
But the phrase newborn witch—she hadn’t heard it in centuries.

After the Blood Witch was executed by the united races, the era of the Greedy Moon fell.
Humans immediately turned their blades toward the witches who once fought beside them.

Simply because witches bore humanlike appearances, yet possessed bodies wholly unlike humans—and more importantly, because witches worshipped the Elemental Gods, not the human-favored God of Light.

Witches were hunted as aberrations.
They fled until they reached elven lands, where they barely carved out a foothold.
And the Light-Stealer, Kaeldimeth, sealed every possibility of humans ever becoming witches.

To Caroline, a newborn witch could only mean human conspiracy or some other trap—never good news.

But Isabena’s next words fell like a stone into Caroline’s heart, sending ripples crashing outward:

“A cage made of light can’t hold the princess of light.
A Light Witch—just hearing it sounds beautiful.
It’s a pity I don’t know her name yet.”

Caroline froze, taking a long time before she found her voice.

“That’s even more impossible.
Anyone who’s lived long enough knows the God of Light despises all living beings.
Humans borrow light-element power only by stealing it.
How could anyone be born with affinity for it?”

She clearly didn’t believe it.

“It does sound impossible, like love at first sight—unreal and miraculous.
But the accuracy of this prophecy… I guarantee it’s 520%.”

Isabena shifted, lying sideways on the ground, her white hair spreading like a sheet.

Seeing her so serious, Caroline had no choice but to treat it seriously as well.

“Even if it’s true, this must be handled carefully.
Light-element power is too unusual—no one can predict the consequences.
And if the other witches hear about this child, they might attack her on sight.”

It wasn’t exaggeration.
Too many witches had died to human Light Magic.
Caroline couldn’t promise the surviving witches wouldn’t act on hatred or fear.

“That’s why I only asked you to come, dear Caroline. You’re perfect for this. Don’t you want to see our witches gain a new and beautiful color?” Isabena winked mischievously.

“Of course I want her to be welcomed.
And basic decency alone means that once we know of her existence, we must protect her.
I just worry this will bring trouble to the Tower—just the words light element alone will make most witches reject her.”

“The Tower is every witch’s home. As long as she is a witch, she is welcome.”

Isabena pushed herself upright, though the movement wavered.

“Don’t burden yourself.
When you meet that child, just choose what you believe is right.
I, Isabena of the Stars, will bear the consequences.”

Hearing this, some of the heaviness in Caroline’s heart lifted.

“With that promise, I can breathe easier. I only hope the child’s path won’t be too difficult.”

“Don’t worry. As I said—the Tower welcomes every witch.”