Belle Adams' Butler

When Lucas left her side, Belle continued to stand there in her place without moving an inch while trying to gather her emotions that had melted down after the gesture. She raised her hand to reach her forehead where he had kissed her, a small kiss that had come and gone like the wind and she gulped down. Feeling shy her eyes looked down at the floor and then turned her head before going to her room and she locked the door behind her. 

Her back leaned against the door and she could feel her heart thundering in her chest. 

H-he kissed her forehead. 

What did the kiss mean? Like any other girl of her age in love, she tried to decipher what it meant while going back through their conversation trying to find signs in her favor and her cheeks only turned redder. Had he kissed her out of pity with what transpired with her relatives and the way the man had treated her like a mum object? Was it to put her words to silence so that she wouldn't be able to question him more? 

The courage and bravery were swept under the carpet with that single action that Belle could barely function now. 

Barron who was in the room lazing on the bed saw Belle enter the room who looked petrified but not in a bad way. He had heard the commotion that had taken place in the halls earlier when he was taking a good nap here in the room. 

"You look red," he commented and this had Belle realize she had a person in this room. 

When the room's door knocked, Belle quickly jumped, turning around to see the maid and she looked slightly disappointed, "Milady, do you need something else?" asked the maid.

"Um, where is Lucas?" Lucas was the one who had mentioned food and she had expected to see him. 

"Sir Lucas said he would be going out to get some of the supplies for the mansion which has gone out of stock."

"Now?" Belle asked, her eyebrows drawing close together. 

"He must have left fifteen minutes ago, milady," answered the maid, "He told me to let you know that it would be late by the time he returns and asked you to have your dinner." 

That didn't sound like supplies. Did he perhaps get the lead from one of the guests on who the witch was? 

"You can leave," she said to the maid who bowed and left the room. 

Belle wondered where exactly he went because he didn't take the carriage along with him else she would have been alerted by the sound of the carriage. It was only three at noon and time was going torturously slow but she waited for Lucas. 

As the sun dipped down behind the clouds, Lucas stood at the backside of the church talking to Isabell about one of Belle's beloved relatives who was talking to a witch. 

"The council should put you to solve the cases," Isabell said looking at Lucas, "What do you plan to do with her? I don't think anyone would ever come to agree that they are keeping ties with the black witches."

"It would be better to cut off the witch's head instead, as the black witcher is the one who is handling the switchers. I will need to send those things back from where they came," Lucas replied looking at Father Connor who was talking to a villager who had come for blessings. Since the time the black witches were trying to get their hands back on the black magic, the gate had widened and the guards didn't notice how things were spilling out from the land of the dead on the realm of the living. 

"Have you thought about what will happen if the witches turn successful? You said the prophecy said something that is not known to the witches," Isabell coughed at the end. She brought her kerchief to cough again and Lucas noticed how she was spewing blood. 

"Your time is close," he stated and she nodded. 

"I lived longer thanks to you. It is only right I leave this place," she smiled softly

Lucas looked at the woman who looked paler than the last time he had met her with Belle. It wasn't too long. It wasn't reincarnation but a soul transfer which was possible by his ability and her spells with potions that she had got ready before she was burnt in Valeria. 

He then said, "The prophecy said the black witches would win the war and the world would turn to chaos until there would be nothing but death all around. But whoever the witch or the witcher is, they happen to read only half of it."

"What difference does it make?" asked Isabell. 

"The theory is very simple. If I tell you beforehand that a piece of leaf is going to fall in your eye from above, you will look up and it will fall in your eye. Now if I never told you, you might have never had a little piece falling in your hand. Most of the prophecy comes from the land of the dead from the oracle."

"Didn't you say the oracle is a Grim reaper?" 

"It is so but the person never gives out all the information. Sometimes words are twisted in ways that you might do things which were never needed and you will reap for what you have sowed." 

Isabell nodded her head, "Seems like a tricky one. How did the words come to be here?"

"It was one of the Grim who isn't working anymore. He went for something and returned back with something else. Guilt let out the information to one of the witches and it traveled to the one who had to hear the most. It was something the Hawerts didn't expect and he was punished with other things."

"So many things that we don't know and are unaware of go behind the curtains. The butterfly effect. Some are good some are bad," the woman sighed, her eyes looking at the trees that surrounded them before looking at the grey walls of the church, "It seems like death was inevitable."