Chapter 159: What Makes Witches, Witches
Vidalia was inconsolable; her sobs filled the forest as though she'd lost someone dear. But no—her grief was directed at the shredded remains of her dress. A slash from their recent skirmish had ripped the fabric, leaving her chest partially exposed.
She hugged herself, red-faced and trembling, especially in the presence of a man. Alicarde awkwardly averted his gaze, more puzzled than embarrassed. The other witches rushed to comfort her, but Vidalia's tears only seemed to intensify.
The battle, meant to be fierce enough to reshape the landscape, had dwindled to a halt, overshadowed by the witch's wardrobe malfunction.
Malefica's glare burned into him, as though he were the culprit behind Vidalia's misfortune. Alicarde kept his gaze on the ground, avoiding Malefica's eyes, which bore into him with an accusation he didn't feel was warranted.
'Is this… are they for real right now?' he thought, unsure if he should feel guilty or just bewildered.