Chapter 5: With Peace comes a New…Witch? (5)
The dragon groaned, in frustration, in respect, and perhaps in regret, as she hovered over the lifeless body of the mage. The battle had been swift and fierce, but the outcome was never truly in question. Adrei had come to claim vengeance for her kind, and yet, she had always a strange kinship with this mortal who had once stood against tyranny. His sacrifice, his unyielding spirit, reminded her of the dragons of old, the ones that had fought alongside the humans, not against them.
"It has been an honour, Demond." Adrei's voice was a soft rumble that seemed to carry the sorrow of a thousand winters. She hovered low, her fiery breath a gentle caress against the cold earth that had claimed the old mage's body.
"And yet, allow me to apologise, for I must dishonour you your resolve." Adrei's words were a gentle whisper amidst the fading echo of their battle. With a flick of her tail, she sent a gentle breeze, extinguishing the cigarette and lifting the ashes into the air, where they mingled with the fading light of the morning sun.
"You...you shall not die here, my savior." Adrei's fiery gaze softened into one of sorrow, her mighty wings lifting Demond's body with surprising gentleness. "Your journey ends not here, but in a place of peace, where your spirit can watch over this new era of understanding you have wrought." With a heavy heart, she sung a lullaby of ash and embers, a melody that resonated with the very essence of creation. Her voice was a symphony of ancient whispers, weaving a spell that would carry Demond's soul back from the afterlife.
——————
Demond opened his eyes, not to the hellish of underworld, but an empty classroom. It was a large hall, with high arched, cracked ceilings and long wooden benches that creaked under years of under-maintenance. The air was stale, filled with the dust of books not for magic, but for theories and technical jargons he has long forgotten.
His deep mind...heard a giggle, and it led him to one of the benches. One...with a light on the table. The light was a faint blue, and it grew brighter as he approached. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a small figure hovering over the light.
"You pixy never allow an old man to rest, do you?" Demond murmured as he took in the unfamiliar yet eerily nostalgic surroundings. He had not stepped foot in a classroom for over eighty years, not before he reincarnated. The labours of tears and warcries of blood drowned his past life a long, long time ago...