Vittoria awoke one summer night with her skin drenched in sweat. She wrapped her arms around her stomach where a phantom pain lingered. Her head ached. The nightmare had been truly horrible, although she found her recollection of it slowly slipping from her mind. All she could remember was a face, not of someone she knew, but of someone who seemed achingly familiar nonetheless. Sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, Vittoria pressed her feet to the ground. If it were any other night her husband might have awoken. She was glad that he was away on one of his hunting trips. His presence seldom offered her any comfort on nights like these. 

          As soon as she thought it, a coil of guilt tightened around her chest. Vittoria should not have been glad of the fact that her husband and his comrades were out there hunting others of her kind. The witches that remained in Rashule knew to be wary of the brotherhood, but that did not always stop them from being found. It was a wonder that Vittoria herself had not been discovered, considering that she shared a bed with the man who called himself The Witch Hanger. But she had been especially careful. The words of a spell had not left her lips since… Vittoria tried to remember, but the dull pain in her head flared as if the memory no longer existed. She sighed. Maybe a walk would help. The shores of the sea were a short way off from the house, and the sounds of the waves always helped ease her mind. Nature was a part of any witch's blood, if anything could help her calm it would be that. 

          Vittoria lit a candle with one of the matches from her husband’s drawer and changed out of her nightclothes. The servants had been dismissed for the night, so she would not need to worry about any of them reporting to her husband of her escapade. Tonight, she was free to do as she pleased. Leaving the candles lit downstairs so that she may find her way back easily, Vittoria slipped through the door and into the moonlight. 

          Despite it being early August, the night wind was brisk, and it only grew sharper as she approached the edge of the water. Vittoria wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders to shield her skin from the cold. Judging from the position of the moon, the time was still relatively early. Maybe a little before midnight. Vittoria relished in the salty sea air that came with every crashing wave, washing away any remnants of the nightmare that had terrorized her. She looked down at the sand, hoping that the light of the moon would offer her enough sight to find a shell or two to add to her collection. Her husband often laughed at her assortment of random items that she liked to keep throughout the house. Of course, he would not laugh if he knew the purpose that each of those collections served, but he would not find out because there was little doubt in Vittoria's mind that she would not live to see the day that they could be used for their rightful occasions. 

          Continuing to look through the sand as she walked further down the beach, Vittoria glimpsed a large, gleaming shell near the edge of one of the cliffs. Victoriously, she strode to where it had been stuck in the ground and took it in her hand. This was a kind that she had not seen before, it would make a wonderful addition. Scanning the area for any more finds, Vittoria’s eyes landed on something strange. Upon further inspection, she found it was a piece of cloth. “Insufferable people,” she muttered to herself. The citizens of Rashule held no care for the Earth and all that it did for them. Their constant littering was only one example. 

          Reaching to pick up the cloth, Vittoria stopped short when she saw the stains of red that marred the white material. There was only a single substance that created such a distinguished color. Blood. And it looked to be quite fresh. Bending further down, Vittoria was able to see more of where a creature had bled. There was a trail of blood that continued further on, toward one of the small caves that some of the sea birds would typically nest in. It could have been one of them that was injured but based on the large amounts of it, the creature was something much larger than a bird. It went against her better judgment, but Vittoria followed the trail. She had the means to defend herself if necessary. However, she doubted that anything that had bled so much would pose a threat. Cautiously, she ducked into the cave. There was very little light, but the sound of soft pants echoed on the rocks. She stepped closer just as a muffled moan of pain reached her ears, the sound unmistakably human.

          Vittoria rushed forward and dropped to her knees as the shadowed figure of a woman came into view. What had happened to her? “It’s alright now, I’m here to help.” The woman mumbled something unintelligible and weakly placed a hand on Vittoria’s chest as if meaning to push her away. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Vittoria said reassuringly. All the while, her desperation began to grow. There was so much blood. She needed to get the woman out of the cave and straight to a healer. But would she make it that far? The nearest healer was over a half-hour walk and he was likely in bed already. There was one other option, though. But it was such a great risk.

          “Leave me,” the woman whispered. Determination took root in Vittoria’s chest. This woman sounded young, much too young to die. And there was something about her that tugged at Vittoria’s heart, she did not know this woman, yet she could not bear to see her die. Not if there was anything she could do about it.

          Taking the woman’s arm around her shoulders, Vittoria pulled her to a standing position. With her free hand, she took her cloak and pressed it to where the blood leaked from her dress. The fabric was soaked through within minutes. The woman continued to murmur warnings and pleas to leave her be, but Vitorria held strong. The house was nearby, she could bear this stranger’s weight for long enough to make it there. Once again, she was glad of her husband’s absence and the late hour that kept people off of the shores.

          By the time they reached the house, the woman had fallen unconscious and Vittoria was forced to drag her through the door. It would be impossible to take her up the stairs, so she chose to lie her in the den. As soon as the woman was on her back, Vittoria rushed to the kitchen, the bundle of nerves in her stomach growing. If her husband were to come back early, or a servant should decide to check on her at his request, both she and this woman would die.

          She shoved the thoughts from her head, focusing only on finding the necessary ingredients. She could not remember who had taught her this healing spell, again, the effort it took to think of the past sent shooting pains through her head. Vittoria gathered all the ingredients in her arms and darted back to the den, where the woman’s breathing had drastically slowed. Panic seized her once more. She did not want this woman to die, the thought of it was unbearable, painful, almost. Vittoria hastily spread the items out before her and placed them in the necessary spots. After that was done, the words came to her lips easily, flowing as though she’d spoken them a hundred times over. Candles flickered, and Vittoria prayed to the gods that no one should happen to pass by and peer through the windows. 

          As with every spell, she felt the sacrificial piece being stripped from her soul. This one would likely take a small piece of time from her remaining life. It did not matter to her. She’d found that there was not much she strived to live for in the days after she’d been forced to marry the day of her eighteenth birthday the year before. The spell concluded, the final verse rolling through her teeth just as the flames stilled once more. Vittoria held her breath as she stared at the figure lying before her. Only when her eyes flew open did Vittoria breathe again. The spell had worked. The woman, however, did not mirror Vittoria’s relief as she looked about the room. Her dark brown eyes turned wide but narrowed once they landed back on Vittoria. “What have you done?!”

          The outburst was surprising enough to startle her. “I saved your life,” Vittoria answered in a defensive tone. 

          “Yes,” she replied angrily, “yes, you saved my life although I told you to leave me be. Once again, your stubbornness has signed your death into place. Stupid, insolent girl.” Vittoria blinked but didn’t acknowledge the insult further. “Again? I don’t recall having met you before.” She tried not to think of the odd familiarity she felt when looking at the woman’s face, her coiled, brown hair, and dark skin. The desperation and fear that had held her tight when she thought that death might have taken her. 

          “Right,” the woman sighed. “Of course, you don’t. There’s no way for you to have known me,” she backtracked. “Being stabbed by a hunter must have disrupted my mind. Apologies.” She didn’t meet Vittoria’s eyes while speaking. Many questions arose from her words, but the word ‘hunter’ snagged Vittoria’s attention. 

          “The Brotherhood found you?” She asked softly. The woman nodded. “That means you’re a-”

          “A witch, yes,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Guess I should call myself lucky that I was found by you instead of another.” Her sentence was sarcastic, though Vittoria couldn’t understand why. She was lucky that it had been another witch to find her instead of a hunter or another civilian who would have turned her in to claim the reward offered by the Brotherhood. Vittoria stood. 

          “I won’t apologize for saving you. I don’t care how suicidal you may be. Death by the blade of a hunter is no way for a witch to leave this world. If you’d truly like to die, do it in a more dignifying way.” 

          The woman chuckled, her eyes softening a bit. “Is there a way to die with dignity?”

          “I would like to think so,” Vittoria stood and made her way to the kitchen to fix a cup of water. She handed it to the woman once she stepped back into the den. 

          “Alright,” she said after taking a sip. “Tell me then, what do you consider a dignifying death?

          Vittoria thought for a moment. “Well, I believe dying in protest of the world's wrongdoings is quite honorable. Like the witches that hang in the town square. The ones that fought until their last breath.” The woman nodded in agreement. Pondering further, Vittoria continued. “Love, I think, would be another good way to go. Dying for the sake of someone you care for more than life.” 

          There was a pause. “Yes, I believe you’re right.” The woman’s amused expression faded, and she set the mug down. “Thank you,” she spoke quietly. “And I apologize for my earlier outburst.”

          “It’s alright,” Vittoria said, satisfied by the apology. “You’d just been stabbed, I shouldn’t have expected you to be in a chipper mood.” The woman laughed, and the sound seemed to make the candles grow brighter. Vittoria couldn’t help but smile along with her. 

          As she spoke next, though, her smile fell and her eyes dropped to the ground. She kept her tone light. “As repayment for my help, why don’t you tell me your name?” It was a heavy thing to ask. As witches, names held considerable power. But Vittoria could not help herself. She needed to know this woman, needed to understand why her presence made Vittoria feel the way she did. 

          The woman’s laughter faded, and for a moment, tense silence hung throughout the room. Vittoria was about to retract her question but the woman finally answered. 

          “Lizbeth, my name is Lizbeth.” 

          “Lizbeth,” Vittoria repeated. The name fit perfectly in her mouth, melting over her tongue like the sweet powder that the chefs would occasionally coat their cakes with. “I’m Vittoria.” She didn’t have to give her name in return, but she did it out of want, not out of responsibility.

          The two women stared at one another, the only noise coming from the growing howls of the coastal winds outside. Tension grew so thick Vittoria had half a mind to take a knife from the kitchen and attempt to slice through it. So many questions raced through her mind. Why did she feel such a strong pull toward this stranger? And why did Lizbeth feel so familiar? A faint memory struck, hard and fast before fading once more. “I dreamt of you,” Vittoria blurted out, breaking the heavy silence. “Before I came to the beach, I had a nightmare. You- your face was hovering over me. You were crying.” As soon as the words left her mouth she realized just how crazy she must have sounded. “But that couldn’t be right. We’ve never met before this night.” Vittoria shut her eyes as another stab of pain laced through her head like someone was dragging a small sword against the outside of her brain. 

          “Don’t think too much about it,” Lizbeth said, taking her hand. There was something in her voice that sounded sad, though her exterior gave no signs of it. Changing the subject, Lizbeth shifted her tone. “Now, would you mind if I changed out of these horribly stained clothes?”

          “Of course,” the pain finally subsided and Vittoria looked up. “You’re welcome to anything in my closet upstairs.” Her husband would question her about the missing outfit, but she would come up with an excuse. He would surely be displeased, but Vittoria had survived the wrath of his displeasure enough times to know how to handle it. Lizbeth smiled gratefully and stood. The healing spell had worked better than she’d thought, there didn’t look to be any strain that came along with the movement. 

          “You ought to start cleaning this up,” Lizbeth gestured to the scattered ingredients that had been used to heal her. “Lest your hunter of a husband decide to return home early. I doubt The Witch Hanger would be all too happy about the fact that his wife shares blood with the devils he hunts.”

          She began toward the stairs and stopped as the realization hit her. But there was no way to undo what had been said. 

          “I never told you of my husband,” Vittoria said in a low voice. 

          Lizbeth tried to recover, only it was too late, her body had given her away. “He’s made quite a name for himself in this town. Of course I would know who his wife is.” 

          “I risked my life to save yours, do not repay me with lies.” 

          Lizbeth turned back slowly to face her, shoulders slumping, she simply shook her head. “You always have been too observant for your own good.” 

          Vittoria’s brows furrowed. “Why do you continue to speak as if you know me so well? Have we met before? Was it you who put this thing in my head that’s keeping me from my memories?”

          “No,” Lizbeth tilted her head back and hissed a word that was extremely unbecoming of a lady. “The devil is a cruel man, Vittoria. A cruel, vicious, liar of a creature.” She did not appear to be speaking to Vittoria, despite saying her name. 

          “What do you know of the devil?” Vittoria asked. “And what did I do to incur his wrath?” 

          “You did nothing,” she responded. “Nothing except follow your heart. Yet you’re still forced to suffer alongside me. He was merciful enough to keep you from remembering, at least. I was not granted such a luxury.” 

          Confusion etched itself along Vittoria’s face. “I do not understand. The devil can only be invoked by the use of dark magic. I have never-” 

          Lizbeth cut her off. “No, you haven’t. But I did.” 

          Vittoria instinctively took a step back. “You’re a user of the dark arts?” 

          “No,” Lizbeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, I never would have considered using the forbidden spells. The thought never even crossed my mind. Until that night, this night.” She looked back up, a bit of a frenzied look in her eyes. “I was supposed to die, Vittoria. The fates foretold it and I accepted it. The hunters would find me and I would be done with this world. That was how it was supposed to happen. You were never supposed to come along, you weren’t supposed to save me. It threw off the balance of everything. You’d stolen a life that was promised to the gods and they demanded retribution.” Vittoria blinked, startled by the sudden emotion spilling off Lizbeth’s tongue.

          “I thought they would try and take me once again,” she continued. “But the gods were angry with you for interfering with fate, they had no care for the fact that it was unintentional. They decided it would be you who paid the price.” Lizbeth’s fists clenched. “The first time that you died, it was a pain which I have never felt before. And every time you have died after that the pain remains the same. And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it. When I called upon dark magic to bring you back to life, I was promised that I would get to remain with you for eternity, alive, the both of us. I was stupid and naive and I believed him.” A dry chuckle sounded from her mouth. “And now here we are. Living in this cursed eternity of my own making.” 

          Everything she said began blurring together, making no sense at all. It should have sounded crazy to Vittoria, she should have banished Lizbeth from her home and gone back to her normal life. However, her feet remained planted and her heart got the better of her. “The first time I died? A cursed eternity?” Her voice came out as a whisper. “Speak clearly, Lizbeth. You’re sounding an awful lot like a madwoman.” 

          Lizbeth sighed shakily. “When you went against what the fates had foretold and saved my life, the gods attempted to take your life as repayment. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t bear it. We’d barely known each other but your death felt like it split me in half. So, I called upon the powers of hell to bring you back. We both played with fate, and we both paid the price.” Her voice quieted and Vittoria had to strain to hear it correctly. “You and I have relived this same night at least fifty times by now. It’s always the same. You find me, save my life, and then by the time that the moon is brightest, you die and the night begins anew. I have tried everything to change it, but it does not matter. No matter what I do, your life is taken. I’ve found that I’ve begun to lose any hope of escaping from this loop.” 

          Vittoria could not believe what she was hearing, her hands had begun to shake. “I don’t- what you’re saying, if I’m understanding it correctly, it isn’t possible.” 

          Lizbeth cracked a humorless smile. “You say that every time.” Slowly, she crossed the room to where Vittoria was standing, taking her hands into her own. “I’m sorry to have overwhelmed you. I usually try to tell you in a more gentle manner, if I tell you at all. Next time I will be better. Tonight was not… tonight was not my finest moment.” 

          “I still don’t understand.” Vittoria’s voice wavered and unexpected tears fell down her cheeks. She did not know why, she was still quite confused. The night had begun to move too fast.

          Lizbeth wiped the drops away with her thumb just as the door to the house flew open and heavy footsteps stormed inside. Vittoria went to look, fear overtaking her body at the sound of her husband’s tread, but Lizbeth held her chin and forced her gaze to remain on her face. “Shut your eyes,” she whispered over the shouts of the raging hunter. “When you open them again, this will all just have been a bad dream.”