Taming the Dark Lord - Chapter 48
Chapter 48 – Mercy Killing
A heavy silence fell between them. The atmosphere was charged with an intensity neither of the two dared to break, but Debra, fiery as ever, broke the silence as she shouted. “Knights, draw your swords!”
The knights drew their swords out of its sheaths, ringing a loud, metallic clang as they encircled the red-haired witch, trapping her at the center.
“Arrest me if you want!” The red-haired witch screeched shakily, voice filled with trembling fear, and her heart was about to leap out of her chest. “Just leave the child out of this. He’s innocent. Please let him go.”
“It’s not up to you to decide whether the child is innocent or not.” Debra snapped icily, “We’ll be the judge of that, not you.”
The red-haired witch was caught easily, a chance encounter they came across with when they brought the boy home. And not only that, they caught another witch, the one who looked like she lost her mind, which was now held prison in a dungeon. Compared to the witch who was resisting in the dungeon, the seizing of this one went by so smoothly everyone couldn’t believe it.
Rita, however, thought it was suspicious. “Isn’t it strange that we caught this one just like that? Do you think that these witches are conspiring something?”
“Like what?” The red-haired witch asked, scoffing as she stared at Rita, and she couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “We are just ordinary girls who can’t even hold a sword, let alone plan this conspiracy you speak of. How are we supposed to resist, huh? I told you we’re not witches.” She said.
“Shut your mouth.” Debra said warningly. “We’ll know exactly what you are once we enter the house.”
Debra turned and sauntered to the front door. She pushed the door open, the hinge squeaking loudly as they stepped inside the wooden house. They anticipated a bunch of monsters and other unsightly creatures to come out, but what greeted them was nothing but the distinct sound of crying babies.
“What’s this?” Rita asked, her eyes wide in surprise. “This must be an illusion, right?”
Amelia blinked her eyes, rendered speechless at the mundane sight in front of them.
In the narrow, and ghastly-looking wooden house, all the furniture inside were chipped and worn with age. The ceiling above was covered with dust and cobwebs, and at the very center of the room, there were about four to five shabby yet clean baby cradles— where the sound of crying babies had come from.
A thin, sheer curtain billowed from the open window, swaying the cradles just slightly as it produced a minute creaking sound, squeaking against the wooden floor. Sunlight streamed from the window panes, shrouding the space a warm, hazy atmosphere.
Debra frowned. “You kidnapped these children from their parents?”
The red-haired witch fumed at the accusation, gritting her teeth as she looked sharply at Debra. “Kidnap? Of course not! My sister picked them up from the edge of the forest. Many people can’t afford to raise kids, so they abandon them to fend for themselves. My sister couldn’t bear to leave them just like that, so she picked every one of them. We planned to send them back to town once they grow up.” The witch explained.
“Sister?” Rita asked.
“My sister hasn’t come home since yesterday, and you’ve already found our place.” The red-haired witch sniffed, “You probably caught her by now.” She said shakily, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Why didn’t you send them to the Church, then? You know that the cult has an orphanage built specially for children like these, free of charge too. So why keep them here?” Debra asked sternly, her tone as cold as ever, asking in a way as if the witch was on trial.
“You think we didn’t do that? The children’s parents themselves tried to send them there many times before they gave up altogether.” The witch said hoarsely, swallowing the thickness in her throat before continuing, “They didn’t want these children. They rejected these babies because they have disabilities. They even said that such a child with abnormalities might as well die instead of growing up and suffering—“
“Disabilities?” Rita asked abruptly, cutting the witch mid sentence. She quickly went to the cradles and pulled the covers off the babies. She drew a sharp breath upon seeing what lay atop the sheets.
Fat babies were squirming in their sleep, and the ‘disabilities’ the witch was talking about was clear as day: Face deformities, incomplete limbs, and one baby had two heads perched on one neck.
Rita stared at the depressing sight, and a gurgling sound caught her ears, making her shift her attention to a little boy lying on the side of the cradle. He was fidgeting under the cloth that was wrapped around him, and when Rita pulled the sleeve slightly, she saw that the boy had nothing on his right arm but a fist-sized lump.
All of them were born with deformities.
Everyone in the room was stunned into silence. All of them didn’t know what to say in this particular situation. The red-haired witch looked at the Light cult, who all bore matching curious gazes staring at the babies. “My sister said that they should at least be given a chance to live. To live or to die should be entirely up to them.”
Amelia parted her lips, and closed them again. She sighed deeply to herself, staring at the ground beneath her.
Their magic can only heal wounds, not extremities like these wherein it could only be cured by the use of actual, rare medicine— one that is funded monetarily. But truth be told, who would even waste their riches on a child from a poverty-stricken family?
In the poorest of continents, children who were born with deformities are choked to death as soon as they get out of the womb, deeming it as a mercy killing to be put out of his or her own misery. However, there are also parents who couldn’t kill their babies themselves, opting instead to leave them out cold in the forest, not wanting to have anything to do with their disabled child. Both of which are as cruel as the other.
