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“I’m sorry, Miss Calavera, I’m afraid we can’t save your eyes. There’s simply too much damage. Perhaps…in a few years…well, there are some impressive technological advancements coming out of Mantle— that is, Atlas now. Replacement eyes might one day become available.”
Maria let out a sigh of resignation, rubbing her face over her new blindfold.
“So…what?” she asked, sliding off the table and wobbling a bit as she got her staff secure. “I just…go around blind for a few decades? Not be able to work?”
She couldn’t see the annoying doctor she’d come to get her eyes checked by, but she could tell vaguely where he was and that he was going to be an issue when navigating out the door. Maria tried to hurry him out of her way with the collapsed version of her weapons, now retracted into a plain stick for the foreseeable future.
“Miss Calavera, I urge you to please, try to take this transition easy,” the useless man was saying from somewhere in front of her. “In your condition, you’re likely to draw Grimm, and even more to get hurt by attempting simple tasks you once didn’t have to think about. If you have any friends or family, I would recommend staying with them while you adjust to your new normal.”
“New— New Normal?!” Maria asked, nearly screaming at the man as she pushed him away from the door with her staff. “I’m a huntress! I will never be normal again! Not if you can’t fix…” She shook her head, putting out a hand and walking until it hit the door. The distance felt longer than it should have been. Finally, at last, she found it, her fingers running over smooth wood until she finally bumped into the hard metal of the handle.
Besides, Maria thought darkly, walking confidently down the hall she’d memorized from the entrance, it’s not like I have many friends or family left anymore…
Once she was outside in the biting winter winds, Maria tried to act like she was fine. Her mask was hidden in her robes, so anyone with eyes could see she didn’t have them, but if she was confident enough, hopefully no punks would try to roughhouse with her. A little pickpocket ran by, their little, bare feet slapping on the stones of the road as they rushed her. She felt the slight pull of fabric as they tried to reach in and yank for anything she might have on hand. Maria tripped the little thief with the end of her stick, sending them sprawling hard onto the ground.
I can still do this, she lied to herself. Just because I don’t have my silver eyes anymore, and just because I can’t see anything, doesn’t mean I can’t kill Grimm with the best of ‘em.
She trundled her way out of town, eager to prove to herself and to everyone else that the Grimm Reaper wasn’t dead yet.
Maria held her staff close, trying not to be sick as the boat swayed annoyingly in the storm. She couldn’t see the lightning, but the thunder sounded close and powerful. The spray of sea-water had left her skin brittle from the salty residue, even after the crew had hurried her below decks.
Five weeks. It had only taken five weeks before she’d had to give up.
Five weeks. Seven Grimm attacks. Zero kills. Twenty-nine cuts, bruises, and lumps on her head.
She was a huntress no more. She had to wait until Atlas invented magic fake eyes, and how long that would be was anyone’s guess. Maria had called her old contact there, and she said there was some work being done by a student at the university named Polendina, but his exploits were in limb replacement, not eyes or ears or stuff like that. Nothing useful in other words.
That wasn’t fair. Maria was sure that if she’d lost an arm she would have been grateful at the chance to replace it. She was just…bitter. Bitter, and tired, and empty inside. Which was why she was headed to the one place in the world where she might find some chance at a new life.
The island of Patch had been on her list of places to visit for most of her life, but she’d never managed to get around to visiting. Mistral was her home, after all. The continent was big enough for ten lifetimes of exploring and fighting, and Vale had always been so…innocuous. No reason to go there just for rumors of one little island where a witch had once lived. Not even currently lived, just used to. Now…now it was her only shot.
If some kind of magic still existed in the world, she would find it there, or nowhere. If not, then it seemed like a good enough place to wait and stay relatively safe. She was still strong, and she’d forged her own weapon once upon a time. If a smith took her in, or a miller, or maybe just a lumberjack, she could hopefully stay in shape while she waited for time to catch up with her again.
Unfortunately for Maria, the only way to get to Patch was via boat, and she’d left during the stormy season. Prices were low, but the voyage took weeks, and even her constitution started failing and leaving her seasick after the first ten days.
Just a few more nights, she kept promising herself. Soon.
“Excuse me, do you know where the old witch used to live?”
“Old witch? That’s a story I haven’t heard in a few seasons. Why, she a relative?”
“No, I just need her services.”
“Ah, bad boyfriend? I think she can help with that. I remember my old ma used to tell me that cheaters got cursed by eternal burning powder the witch made.”
Maria was mostly sure the woman she was talking to was an idiot. Could she not see that Maria was wearing a rag around her eyes? Did her stance not scream that she was about an inch from strangling something?
“Do you know where?” she insisted, forcing herself to be patient.
“Huh? Oh, like, in the woods somewhere.”
Oh, how very helpful.
“Do you know who would have a more precise location?”
“Uhhhhh…I guess the woodsmen? They go in there to hunt Beowolves and bring back good timber.”
“Fine, where can I find them?”
“Like I said, they go into the woods for timber.”
“And when they aren’t in the woods?”
“…um, I don’t know any of them personally. I mean, I guess they’d have hobbies too, but—”
“Forget it,” Maria groaned, turning to go and using her stick to guide her away.
“Be careful not to go too far that direction!” she called after her. “That leads to the part of the woods where children vanish! They say the old witch eats them!”
Don’t cause a scene. Don’t kill the idiot civilian. Don’t light things on fire.
Maria chanted such things to herself as she marched along the road dead on. If no one knew where the witch was, she’d just have to make the witch come to her.
She would search high and low. Day and night. Rain or shine. Every tree of this woods would be inspected until she located the witch and demanded her eyes be fixed.
“She’s coming around…”
“We’re taking an awful risk. You know we can’t expose ourselves this way.”
“Oh shush. Hand me the bowl.”
Maria was coming to, hearing strange voices. What had happened? She’d been walking in the woods, looking for the witch, and then…
Maybe I should have eaten before going on this latest foray, she thought, her stomach growling painfully and audibly as she tried to sit up.
A gentle but strong hand caught her shoulder, easing Maria back down onto the hard couch she was reclined on. A very soft pillow propped her up though.
“Don’t move,” the first voice said gently. “You were passed out on the road. Nearly got eaten by a Grimm. Here, sip.”
A spoon made of unnaturally smooth metal touched her lips, and Maria allowed the warm soup to pass her lips and glide down her throat. It wasn’t much, but it was decent, and it started to fill her up. Bit at a time she was fed the broth, until she heard the spoon scraping against the bowl it had come in. Some kind of ceramic.
“There, now try to sleep,” the first voice insisted, as a cool cloth was placed on her forehead.
“I’ll escort you back to the village once you’re well,” the second voice promised, a little less intense than last time. “I’m sure everyone’s looking for you.”
“No…” Maria sighed. “No one’s looking but me…”
She drifted in and out of sleep for a bit after that, her tummy full and her body tired. When she felt aware again, it was warm and someone had put a blanket over her. The couch or bench was still hard, but she’d grown used to it.
“How long…?” she managed to ask.
“Two days,” the second voice said, now much more mellow. “You’ve been in and out for that long. You ate just this morning though. I can get you something if you feel up to it?”
“Please…”
A cup of some smooth material that wasn’t quite metal touched her lips. Glass? Who had the money for that? Maria sipped at the chilled water, sighing at the decadence. Then there was a small ripping sound, and a soft morsel of bread touched her lips. She eagerly accepted it, enjoying the sourdough’s chewy and flavorful nature before swallowing it. The next bite was smaller, but her lips found a very slender forefinger and thumb holding it, with precisely rounded nails.
Must be rich folk, Maria decided.
“You said no one’s looking for you?” the second voice said, withholding more bread. “Why?”
“Not from here,” Maria answered shortly, opening her mouth pointedly.
The second voice tutted in disapproval, but gave her another bite anyway.
“And where are you from?”
“Anima.”
“Anywhere more particular?”
Maria waited with an open mouth. To her annoyance, all she got was a small splash of water that she spluttered with to try and not choke on.
“Northern Mistral, fine!” Maria blurted once she’d gotten it down.
“Good girl,” the second voice praised, feeding her another, slightly larger bit of bread. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” Maria grumbled, getting rewarded a tiny bit of bread for that.
A pattern was becoming clear. Answers earned food. How nice.
“And what brings you here?”
Maria reached up and touched her blindfold. It had been changed. It was now a clean cloth bandage.
“Ah. The old stories of…a witch?” the rich girl guessed.
“No one else can fix them,” Maria grumbled.
“Well, you won’t find any witch out in that forest,” the second girl said in an…odd tone. “The old shack where they think she used to live has been abandoned for decades.”
“Mossy, moldy, and with no organic flow to the place,” the first voice, the more energetic one, put in from somewhere on her other side.
Maria sighed in defeat.
“No sign where she went?”
“Nope,” the slightly mischievous first voice said. “Even if there was, even a witch can’t give you back your eyes.”
“I guess that means I’ll need to get a new job,” she grumbled. “I don’t suppose either of you are part of the lumberjacks they mentioned in the village?”
There was a slight pause.
“No,” rich girl said. “We have our own means of making a living.”
Definitely a mansion.
“Then do you maybe know some of them?” Maria asked with a sigh. “I’m strong, so I can do hard labor, but I…need someone to point me the right way.”
“Because of your eyes?” the nicer one asked.
“Yeah,” Maria huffed. “My eyes. What, are you blind too?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure,” she said, sounding like she was planning something. “Tell you what: while you recover you can help me around the house. Some light dusting, spring cleaning, baking, that sort of thing. You’ll teach her how to cook too, right?”
“If she manages not to burn her fingers off, I could be persuaded,” rich girl agreed.
“Good. Would you mind helping out for the next few days, miss…?”
“Maria,” she grumbled. “And…sure, fine, thanks.”
“Very welcome!”
Maria was sorting books in the library when she realized something odd. She knew which book was which thanks to the lettering on the spines she could identify by feel, but why were they having the blind girl do that job? Surely they had another servant who could be faster with it? Though, maybe not. She’d only ever met the two of them, Rich Girl and Mischief as she’d nicknamed them. Was it possible the entire manor they lived in was…empty?
Thinking back, she noticed a lot of little details were starting to add up. Odd tasks that couldn’t have taken long, and anyone with eyes could be much faster at, but they’d pushed onto her. Cutting vegetables in precise sizes. Dusting around things that could break if she was too blunt, but would be obvious if she missed a spot. Pulling bread out of the hot oven. Brushing the little dog Zwei, who was always a squirmer.
They must be trying to have a laugh at my attempts, Maria determined with an annoyed slam of the current book she was holding onto a shelf. Well joke’s on them. I’m getting food, a bed, and a roof over my head for doing half a maid’s job.
It had only been a month or so, and she was probably well enough to travel, but they hadn’t said she needed to leave yet, and Maria hadn’t bothered to bring up the subject.
Someone came into the library, and Maria paused. She could hear their feet on the carpet, but both of them were fairly light and walked softly, like predatory cats on grassy ground. There was a hint of soap on the air, but she couldn’t identify which one it was from that alone. They all shared baths often enough, after all. It helped with getting her back, and in not getting soap in her eye cavities. The breathing was soft and restrained, like they were trying to avoid giving her a hint.
“I know it’s you,” Maria bluffed.
The figure stepped to a table and knocked on it in a soft pattern. Maria recognized it, and quickly decoded the words.
[Which one am I?]
Not even giving me her voice, huh?
“The cold one. The one who makes little huff sounds when you’re annoyed.”
There was a little sigh of indignation…from the other side of the room. Maria whirled on instinct and hurled the book in her hands, only to try and catch it as it left her fingers, realizing it was Rich Girl coming in from a different angle.
“Aim seems good,” Rich Girl grumbled as the book smacked into her palm at high speed.
“Details a bit off,” Mischief agreed from her spot. “But you’re making progress, Maria!”
“Progress at what?” she asked in annoyance. “Becoming your life-in-maid?”
“Do you think that’s why we’re asking you to do these things?” Mischief asked, sounding a little hurt.
“You’re not doing much of anything else,” Maria snapped. “My one chance at getting my eyes back is gone, and as cute as you two act: I can’t just stay cooped up in here for the next twenty years while I wait for someone to learn how to give me them back!”
Storming off, she brushed by Mischief and went to get her things. She was out the door in five minutes, marching down the path from the manor and back into the woods. Maria distantly remembered a bit of warning her father had given, a warning she’d always dismissed so easily before.
“Don’t go out in a bad temper,” he’d admonished. “Grimm are attracted to negative emotions. You’ll only draw them to you when you can’t think clearly.”
Sure enough, only a few minutes out, she got jumped by an Ursa. Even when she could see, she never liked getting attacked by one of those without warning. Too tanky.
Maria heard it trampling through the woods. With an annoyed flick of her arm, she extended a blade from her staff and swept to the side, hearing the dirt and twigs crunching under her boots. The image of the Ursa in her head was big, with bristling back spines cutting through the trees. The gouge wasn’t deep enough to kill it, but it was too lumbering to get at her on that first pass. It had to heave all the way around, its enormous bulk breaking trees and carving deep into the ground with each pawstep.
It was coming again. No one was here to save her this time. So Maria leapt up and over it, sweeping her kama through its neck as she cleared the spikes, wounding it fatally but not quite killing the thing. It tried to come around again, but it was wobbling too far side to side. It was dying too quickly to kill her in return.
Pacing around opposite of the Ursa, Maria waited until it slumped down to approach, cutting its head off completely. Her blade hit something wooden, and the echo bounced off a nearby wall. Retracting the kama, Maria tapped around, finding she was in some kind of cabin that had been torn apart by the elements.
“I’m guessing this is the old witch’s cottage,” she huffed. “Just my luck.”
“It was, once,” a scratchy voice spoke up from behind her.
Maria had her kama ready and around in an instant, at the neck of the intruder.
“Oh dear, there’s no need for that,” the aged crone said. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
Pausing, Maria pulled back slightly. She could barely hear where the old woman was, only audible thanks to her breathing.
“You’re the old witch?”
“Less of the old, now,” she laughed weakly. “What can I do for you?”
“Help me get my eyes back,” Maria said immediately. “…please.”
“I’m afraid I already warned you that’s not possible,” the old witch sighed. “But you don’t seem to need them anymore.”
There was a soft rush of air, and Maria’s hand whipped out to catch the…bread roll that had been pulled from the other woman’s cloak.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Maria huffed. “And what do you mean you already warned me?”
“She means,” Rich Girl spoke up from around the dissolving body of the Ursa, slowly coming in closer, “that we already told you: no witch can get you your eyes back. We can only teach you how to see.”
“But I can’t see!” Maria insisted. “I can’t fight Grimm like this! I can’t be a huntress! I can’t be…me anymore.”
Rich Girl kicked the Ursa corpse.
“Seems like you’re doing fine with killing Grimm,” she pointed out.
“You saw your treat well enough,” Mischief said, her voice now no longer fakely old woman-y.
“And I’d say you’re plenty you as well,” Rich Girl confirmed. “So much so, we’d rather like you to keep being you, if you decide to stay.”
“Stay??” Maria swung her head around like she was looking for something. “Wh-why would I ever—?!”
“You’ll get good food, we’ll take you hunting, you get to live basically forever, our house is comfy, and…well, you’ll need to get a little handsy to confirm, but we’re pretty hot.”
Maria glared through her blindfold at the pair.
“You’re screwing with me right now.”
“No, Ruby is fully serious right now,” Rich Girl sighed.
“You two are the witches?”
“I mean…” Ruby said guiltily. “You never asked if we were the witches. And we never said we weren’t.”
“That’s a narrow fucking excuse, and you know it, Miss Ruby,” Maria countered, cutting herself off as she heard the small gasp or whimper of reaction to her saying Ruby’s name. “…the hell was that?”
“You gain power over a witch by knowing her name,” Rich Girl explained. “Saying hers with that much authority…well, she’s gonna need to change now.”
“So what’s your name?” Maria asked.
“You’ll learn it if you decide to stay,” Rich Girl said pompously. “Along with…other things. But if you aren’t, then I am afraid we have to kill you to keep Ruby here safe.”
“Uh, you told her my name. Weiss,” Ruby snipped.
“Well now we have to marry her or kill her, thanks a lot, Ruby.”
Maria rubbed at her face. These two were disasters. How had they not been found out before?
“Look, can you two just…just shut up for a second?” Maria begged. “I’m not in the mood for this…whatever this is, right now. I’m still a little annoyed, but mostly I’m tired, hungry, and in desperate need of an explanation.”
“Oooh! We can fix that!” Ruby said excitedly. “Weiss, can we show her pizza? I know it hasn’t been invented yet, but no one else has to know!”
“Hm, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Weiss allowed. “Come along, I’ll show you how to prepare it.”
“Yeah, feeding someone strange food always turns out well,” Maria shook her head, forcing herself not to roll what was left of her eyes and hurt herself. “You’re wrapped around her little finger, aren’t you Weiss?”
Weiss’ whimper was too abruptly cut off for her to be sure, but—
“…maybe we can take a bath first,” Maria allowed, blushing.
“Thank you…”