April -aconite-: Slave Witch

For the first time in twelve years, April smiled.

She wanders the back roads of the Estates, leaving behind a single sprig of Monkshood on the chest of every dead slaver. They say her eyes have turned the color of tarnished silver. They say she can no longer speak human tongues, only the rustle of poisonous leaves. Slave Witch April -Aconite-

She is kept in a sub-basement lined with lead, fed through a slot. Every morning, her handlers force her to grow a single Monkshood flower from the blood in her palm. They harvest the seeds to coat their slaver’s arrows. She is never allowed to see the sun. The legend of the Aconite Witch began to change on an unnamed April 17th. A new slave, a child who did not yet know fear, was thrown into the cell next to hers. The child whispered through the wall: "Why don’t you make them choke on the pretty flowers?" For the first time in twelve years, April smiled

The Thorn in Spring’s Grasp “She blooms where she is planted, but her roots are poison.” They say she can no longer speak human

The collar of cold iron cannot stop a witch who has decided that dying is preferable to obeying. She is currently at large. Three plantations have been found abandoned, every living creature—from the master to the cattle—dead with dilated pupils and lips stained violet. April is no longer a slave. She has become a blight.