The burly warlock brought a grain of salt to his nose and sniffed, then licked it with the tip of his tongue: "It's just ordinary salt, the same as the salt in this jar, nothing unusual."
"I see, I understand." A gentle female voice sounded.
It was the witch who had not spoken until then.
She stood in the darkest corner of the kitchen, wearing a black cloak, the hood covering most of her face, revealing only a pale chin.
She was a witch specializing in curses.
"That finger is using genetic material as a medium." Her voice was soft, but each word was as clear as if engraved in everyone's ears, "It uses this to impose a curse on the soul level. As for the content of the curse... it should be something like 'body and salt exchange.'
She walked toward the stove and lightly tapped the edge of the salt jar with her pale fingers.
