Rewrite That Witch
CH1008 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 1008: The Wolf Princess

Once upon a time, there was a great city — high mountains at its back, beautiful plains spread before it — known as the Mountain City. In it lived two lovely little princesses.

At fourteen, the elder princess awakened and became a witch. In the Mountain City, this was not unusual. The people lived alongside witches; they could not have settled in that dangerous place without them. But what happened to the elder princess exceeded everyone’s expectation. Instead of growing more beautiful, the magic power unmade her.

Her ears withered day by day while new ears — pointed, furred — rose from the top of her head. Her fingers lengthened and grew hair too coarse to shave away. She began to look like something other than human.

No one had ever seen a witch change this way. Even the court’s scholars couldn’t confirm whether the awakening had caused it.

As the months passed, the rumors began. Whispered through the palace halls: the elder princess had been cursed.

Lorgar touched her own cheek and frowned.

The source material here was off. Lucky for me — I don’t have hairy cheeks.

She did feel something for the elder princess, though. Lorgar’s own wolf-features had come on gradually, accumulating with each extended use of her transformation ability, and she’d needed years to stop flinching when she saw her own reflection. The princess in this story had been handed those same features on the first day of her power, without preparation or understanding.

The chief should probably soften that part.

She shifted to a more comfortable position and turned the page, already more interested than she’d intended to be.

The princess’s little sister didn’t mind the changes. But the wolf princess could feel the new strength building in herself — enormous, poorly mapped, not yet answerable to her will. Afraid of what she might do if she lost control, she began to pull away. She avoided her sister deliberately. Then she withdrew to the palace’s inner rooms. Then the door closed and stayed closed.

Four years passed. The two sisters, once inseparable, had not seen each other.

Then, when the little princess was sixteen, something unforeseen arrived.

An exotic prince came to the Mountain City to propose marriage. His convoy stretched for two and a half kilometers. His attendants called him king of the world. His jewelry outshone the sun. Every girl in the city stopped to look at him.

The king was delighted. He held a banquet. Every noble present agreed: this prince was perfect for the little princess, a match that would bring wealth and glory to the city.

“I disagree.”

The wolf princess came through the banquet hall doors.

She couldn’t sit in her room while a stranger — a suspicious stranger — took her sister away.

But the little princess, who hadn’t seen her in four years, didn’t know how to trust her anymore.

Overwhelmed, the wolf princess lost control of her power. She tore the hall apart. She injured the prince. Then she fled the city.

“Idiot,” Lorgar muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Your ability doesn’t grow with age on its own. You have to train it.” If she’d been in that story, she would have asked her father to build an exercise room — sparring partners, daily practice, graduated challenges. That was how you learned to hold a cup without crushing it. She knew from experience. Second year after her own awakening, she’d finally managed it.

But despite herself, she kept reading. She’d started this expecting to skim. She was not skimming.

After leaving the Mountain City, the wolf princess let herself go. She stopped holding back. Her Day of Adulthood arrived and her power expanded — she could become a full wolf, enormous and swift. And in that freedom, she noticed something she’d overlooked at the banquet: the exotic prince’s convoy had arrived on a snowy day, but left no tracks. No light had ever appeared inside the carriages, even at night. As if the passengers were not people.

Meanwhile, the little princess felt the weight of her mistake. She didn’t want to lose her sister — her closest friend, her anchor. With the help of a pigeon and a fish, she slipped out of the palace and went to find the wolf princess.

She walked straight into the prince instead.

When she refused to go with him, he stopped pretending. He was a demon lord. He told her everything — not because he was careless, but because he wanted her to understand it was too late. The Mountain City was a natural choke point, a keystone in humanity’s defensive line. He had spent months infiltrating it from the inside. His army was hidden in the convoy, passing through the city gates right now. By the time she understood, it was already done.

He took the little princess captive.

But the pigeon had heard everything, and it flew.

The wolf princess turned back without hesitation.

She found the city in chaos and the palace occupied, and she fought her way through it — soldier by soldier, hall by hall. She led the counterattack. She reached the demon lord for a final battle. The fight was long and desperate.

In the end, she killed it.

But she died of her wounds.

When her sister became queen, she built a statue.

Lorgar set the book on her chest and rolled her neck.

She exhaled — a long, full breath.

Satisfied. That was the word. She felt genuinely, unreservedly satisfied.

The chief’s view of her was clear in every choice he’d made: she was a warrior capable of protecting people who mattered, stepping up when no one else could, making the decisive move in the final battle. He’d given the wolf princess a warrior’s death — which wasn’t tragedy, in Lorgar’s understanding, but the correct ending for someone who’d been strong enough to earn it. No healer witch in the story. The price was paid honestly.

She had no objection to the ending.

She did have some structural notes. The wolf princess’s outburst at the banquet was a product of poor training, nothing more — solvable with an exercise room. And the demon lord’s monologue, the full explanation delivered while holding a prisoner hostage, was a tactical liability that no competent military leader would incur. Too talkative. Not prudent.

But these were minor.

She set the script on the nightstand and stretched against the pillow, letting her tail curl against the warm blanket.

Half a month before training can wait.

She was asleep almost before she finished the thought, with a small smile that nobody was awake to see.

Discussion

Suggest a change