Asher stayed in the woods with the old man for many years.
The trauma of his kidnapping had left him with partial amnesia—he forgot who he was and where he came from. Though he always wondered, "Why hasn't anyone come looking for me?" he said nothing aloud. He simply lived like a normal boy, growing up in peace. Mr. Clinton, the old man who saved him, was a great companion. He raised Asher like his own son.
But over time, strange signs began to surface.
Mr. Clinton, having studied witches and their nature for many years, had suspected that Asher wasn't just an ordinary child. There were days when Asher's eyes would glow blood red, or his fingernails would extend and sharpen involuntarily. And the aura around him—dark, intense, and overwhelming—confirmed it.
Yes,Asher was a witch,A powerful one.
Living with a witch wasn't easy, but Mr. Clinton was prepared. He had read many books about their kind. One day, he left the boy in the care of a neighbor and went in search of a powerful object—something that could suppress a young witch's energy. He returned two days later with a glowing bracelet and placed it on Asher's wrist. From that day, Asher began to live like a normal human. Mr. Clinton warned him never to take it off until he was strong enough to control his powers.
Together, they hunted wild animals in the woods. They built tents, explored caves, shared stories by firelight, and laughed. Mr. Clinton made sure Asher was educated. He homeschooled him, registered him for government exams, and watched proudly as Asher passed every level with brilliance.
In Grade 2, Asher solved problems meant for Grade 5.
One day, Asher was walking through the woods as usual when something strange happened. He unknowingly returned to the exact spot where he had once been tied to a tree. A sharp chill passed through him. He looked around slowly, and flashes of memory hit him like lightning. The kidnapping. The knife. The fear. The rain. The sorrow.
He stood frozen.
Tears welled in his eyes as he dropped to his knees.
He stayed there for hours, reliving the pain. Mr. Clinton, worried when the boy didn't return, searched the forest. When he finally found him, Asher was unconscious. He rushed him home.
Later that night, Asher opened his eyes and whispered, "I remember everything."
Mr. Clinton sat beside him and finally confirmed the truth. "You're not just a boy, Asher. You're a witch. And not just any witch—you're someone important. I always suspected it, but I didn't want to overwhelm you."
He explained everything. The signs, the aura, the bracelet.
Asher sat in silence, absorbing it all. Then he made his decision.
"I want to go back"
Mr. Clinton didn't argue. He knew this day would come. He promised to take Asher to the edge of the royal kingdom.
When the day arrived, their goodbye was filled with emotion. Mr. Clinton tried to hold back his tears, but failed. Asher, too, wiped his eyes. Though he didn't say it out loud, Mr. Clinton had become the only real father figure in his life.
Asher walked away slowly, glancing back one last time. Mr. Clinton stood watching until he disappeared through the trees.
Asher continued walking until he reached the gate of the witch kingdom. He stood in awe.
The kingdom was grand—taller than the trees, brighter than the stars. The castles shi
mmered in gold and diamond. His heart pounded in his chest.
He had returned home.