“Emerie, you may be younger than me, but have you ever questioned the notion that you're over eighty? Do you truly have memories spanning eight decades?" Nicole remarked, her tone measured yet pointed.

Emerie's expression faltered, her mind grappling with the absence of recollections from her early years. From childhood, she had been indoctrinated to accept her purported age, reinforced by the chief's fabricated evidence. In this secluded enclave, the chief held unquestioned authority, revered as a deity alongside the Holy Spirit To doubt her word was unthinkable.

"It's evident you lack these memories," Nicole continued, her voice unwavering. "Can't you see the incongruity? While you remain eternally youthful, your chief ages before your eyes."

Emerie hesitated, her allegiance wavering momentarily before rallying to the defense of her revered chief. "You spew lies!" she countered, her voice trembling with conviction. "The chief is not subject to aging. She is a celestial being, beyond reproach."

Nicole's brow furrowed at the assertion. “A celestial being?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she said, "Why not request your esteemed chief to unveil her true countenance beneath the mask of human skin"

“Human skin?" Emerie's incredulity was palpable.

Yet, despite Nicole's pointed observation, none of the followers dared to entertain such blasphemous thoughts.

Nicole pressed on, highlighting the incongruity between the chief's smooth visage and the wrinkled texture of her neck. "Check her neck filled with wrinkles. Isn't it glaringly obvious that something is amiss?"

The witches’ gazes instinctively shifted towards the stage. Among them, those with keen eyesight discerned a discrepancy in the appearance of the chief's neck.

However, Emerie, entrenched in her unwavering devotion, refused to entertain these doubts. "Cease your fear-mongering, demoness!" she exclaimed defiantly. "The Holy Spirit shall surely deliver punishment upon you."

Unwilling to engage in further debate, Nicole gestured toward the stage. "Just let your esteemed chief descend and dispel these allegations to see whether my words hold no merit!"

In a surprising turn of events, a voice from the crowd echoed Nicole's sentiments. "Chief, this woman spreads falsehoods. Please, come down and restore our faith."

The chief's countenance shifted at these words.

Naturally, the chief would not descend, afraid of her wrinkled neck and skin being spotted. She castigated the witch who proposed the idea, calling the latter a fool.

Her anger palpable, the chief declared, “Do you expect me to step down just because some demoness is spouting bullshits? Have you all gone mad?"

The witch who had spoken earlier was immediately chastened, Lowering her head in fear, wishing she could vanish.

The other witches, cowed by the chief's formidable presence, agreed that the suggestion was indeed preposterous. To ask the chief to come down for such a trivial matter would demean her stature and seem laughable.

Yet, Emerie harbored doubts, noting there might be some truth in Nicole's words.

Unlike the others, who had only glimpsed the chief from afar, Emerie had direct interactions with the chief.

On occasion, Emerie had glimpsed the chief's grotesque neck, resembling dried flesh clinging to the bone, the skin hanging Loosely in multiple folds. It resembled the skin of a snake.