Chapter 18: Wolf’s Pride, Dragon’s Vow, Witch’s Beginning (1)
"Adrei."
"...here."
"Thanks."
In the shadowy corridor that led outside the throne room, the future she promised her companions, Demond reached out to the cigarette Adrei offered her, the tip glowing red as it met the dragon's scales. She took a deep drag, the smoke curling around her face, as the pixies fluttered around them, their curiosity piqued in spite of their grief.
The dragon remained silent, her gaze fixed on the frozen feeble trails under the witch's bare feet, each snowflake glowing briefly within the darkness of the corridor as they melted from an union no longer needed. Upon hearing another drag, she glanced up, the cigarette hanging from the witch's lips, her robes, dried and cleaned by the dragon's spell, fluttered slightly in the smoken air, a shutter to the witch's turmoiled mind.
She supposed she should leave her alone, but Adrei found herself unnerved. Even with the silver tongue she had to convince Alice the stubborn hero not to cover the entire continent in anti-magic barriers, the words of comfort hang in her throat.
The pixies, however, had other plans, as they began to swirl around the witch, their whispers grew into a chorus of hopeful pleas. They did not know of her grief, nor did they know much of the Wolf Queen who they played with, but the stiffening mana in the air had them worried. They knew something was amiss, and their natural instinct was to heal. They approached Demond tentatively, their tiny hands reaching out to touch her cheeks, to share their lighting's comfort, to let her know that she was not alone.
Leaning into the warmth of the pixies' embrace, Demond puffed out another smoke as she sighed, "I'll miss her." It was a simple, heartfelt confession that resonated with the creatures around her. The pixies, as if understanding the weight of her confession, clung to her even tighter, their light glowing a little brighter.
The dragon nodded, a sympathy reflected in her fiery gaze. "As do I," she murmured, her voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate within the very walls of the cave. "But remember that it is not your last meeting. What dies is the memories, but not her soul. The wolf's pride will live on, and she will...detest you mourning."