The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today-Chapter 45: A Lily’s Sweetness Tender for a Druid’s Grave

A lily sat upright admist the ashen soils, smells of burnt woods now carried through the fiery winds, as a lone Druid elder laid sprawled on the ground, her green hairs that resembled charred vines crawled all over the ground, webs of rotted mints tainting the youthful beauty despite her age.

The Druid elder's emerald eyes were on the clear sky, one her children used to laugh under, one her sisters used to frown upon for another day without rain. The depthed blueness of what's unreachable for the her lucid limb taunted of a morning that greeted her empty thoughts, forgiveness under the layers of silver irises for the murderers of her families, a mercy not out of rashness or casualness, but for a neoned relief that would color her hatred without regrets.

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She glanced at the lily far beside her, the whiteness stood alone admist the tarred clearings that once housed a garden before it was all swept away, the scented sweetness clearing the charring bitterness at her lips. Adil felt disgusted, yet...willing to let the scent slide through her throat, for her wraith must not burn like the tyrant's flames, must not yield her last shred of sanity behind a wraith that would only bring her pain.

And yet, someone broke the trance with a wobbling steps, steps that would eventually intrude her vision, as they landed upon the comfort she clung onto. The lily among the footprint now an irony of a desperate struggle rather than sanctity, as the Druid elder widened her eyes.

Her wraith, left unchecked, gazed upon the damning human as he stumbled across the clearing, unaware he earned the unfair hatred of a lady-in-pain. Adil's control over herself slipped as much as the monsters against the world that betrayed them, as roots beneath gathered beneath the adult man, ready to strangle him the moment his wretched steps ended to meet his demise.

Yet, the mage merely leaned down, as Adil watched his hand hovered over a broken hilt of a waraxe, the woods shimmered as sacred as the home that used to house them. The Druid Elder frowned, as the man's quivered towards the hilt, before he stood up, gazing upon the clear sky just as Adil did.

His eyes, however, were iced sorrows that even the blue abyss could not draw his regret in. Upon observing his feature, the little beard on his chin, and the pi, she realised it was one of the adventurers their clan seeked help for from the guild, the unsuspecting group that was not ready to meet the tyrant's flame, even during this unpredictable wartime that is the Dragonsong War. And that hilt...must belong, or used to belong to one of his close comrades.

Her hatred burned deeper. Why only now? Why did they come late? Why must he be the only one who survive if he couldn't protect her family? The hypocrisy never soured the surged flame that once burned her home, as she extended her hand towards the man, the roots following her seething despairs.

But the unsuspecting man, merely sighed, as he threw the hilt towards the sky, as a blue tint of fingertip aimed and shot a frosted flame. The sunlight radiated the ambered resin shards as it flew along the gust, before melting away to leave behind a grieving old man.

"Rest well, my old friend."

Whether it is the last of her regrets, or her sympathy as the kind druid elder, those words shook her down to her inky heart, as the manaed hand descened back to the charred soil, the heavy dusts in her nose as if reprimanding her for her rashed escape of reality with an innocent bystander.

That's right. Her home is gone. Her families are gone. She alone....remained.

But as her memory drifted along back to emptiness, the rednesss trembled her very mind that seeked rest, as the curtain that was her eyes slowly opened. Redness of the tyant's flames. And redness of the vampires' eyes....all painted a rosy thorns of asiprins for her lost purpose as an elder.

Her knees crawled themselves towards the lily as wounds of scratches grazed her resolve with no satifsfactory end, as she gazed upon the whitness wilted by a carelessness in the name of 'grief'. 'Grief'....her hand sculped up the lily along with the soil, her lips trembling open for an invitation that would ruin her life, as she sent the lily down to the depths of her throat, the depths of the red vaccum that haunted her very existence.

What came...however, was not the sour bitterness of a footed plant, not the dusty freshness of a muddled soil, but....a sweet, guttering, mouthwashing relief, of a seething fury finally entangled, as hints of whiteness colored beneath her green locks, a welcoming celebration for the a revelating corruption born admist the rubbles.

That day, Adil the Elder died along with her sibling, and what's left behind was a greiving, broken avenger, a disgraced Druid that casted aside her very identity to rip away the redness that sullied her home with rosery bloods.

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Adil glanced back down to the lily, once a symbol that would embark her a path of no-return, now a mere white plant cared by her adopted daughter, another survivor that used to be an infant that knew no deaths or betrayals. Her knees curled up as her tired gaze met the icy eyes of her old friend, now of firmness instead of shakiness in that fateful day.

"I will not, Demond."

And so, the firmed gaze shook upon her steady denial, as Adil narrowed her eyes, the disgraced druid's white hair stilled even among the gust, her empty silvery eyes speaking of a death of pristine snow that would bury the garden without remains.

"...is it because of the seal?" Demond recalled as she held the gutting gulp in her throat, her fingers curling up to a hard fist. "Don't joke with me. Yes, I know the seal that would protect the town's people sourced the mana from the runes you dare cover the whole town with, but a vampire's soverign among them? Their bodies would literally burst open upon a single glance if she's ressurrected, let alone if the seal would protect them!"

"I specifically tested the seal as I asked theories from the Church's pope and saintess. It would work fine enough even against the tyrant's daughter, Demond." She rebutted as if it was a mere fact that would not have scorched her land if for a misjudgement. "Not yours though, but Alice's strength matched to none other than she herself. The contingency would work just fine."

"...Adil, we're old pals that survived the same war, the same battle, the same destruction that was not meant for us, right?"

The witch's icy gaze observed for any signs of wavering, yet Adil's slitted eyes among the bloated cheeks remained vague, a coiling declaration to close her heart. The witch took a deep breath agan, her heart pounding of a frustration for the twenty years of a fellow survivor's pointless hatred, as she uttered.

"So don't lie to me.....you just want Manasseh dead, don't you?"

The uprising sun radiated upon the beauties of the garden with the witch, as the unfitting old hag's shoulders slumped, as if the baggage of dishonesty not suiting what she had in mind. Even with age, her sole purpose never dwindled to wipe out all the redness of this Earth.

"The runes...I carved them myself, with the sorrowing cries of the souls begging as they were grounded into mere dusts and ashes."

Adil's step brushed one of the many runes beneath her feet, her scowl deepening as her year-old grudge biled upon her empty mind, her eyes never leaving the witch's for a unregretful confession.

"So, I can stilll hear them. In fact, if I choose to close my eyes and let loose my mind, my...body would further warp into the shape of their boundless grief and bloated egos."

The plumped fingers tightened around the sceptor as if recalling the moments she carved each and every rune with a swiss knife, the jagged scrape that unsettled her ears pound the disgraced druid's head, yet the witch seethed her teeth for the steady hands without trembles. Her old friend, too far gone in her quest for vengance, has grown steady not in her hatred, but in the music of her enemies' cries for mercy, not for pleasure, but for a mere focus to accomplish a checklisted goal.

"Now, I know from the cries. Manasseh...she is now the last remaining, known vampire in this land, and the runes will serve well as my eyes and ears, the ashes of La Llorona an essential bait for her to inevitably come for her demise."

The witch's ear folding into itself as if to reject her old friend. Adil didn't chuckle, didn't laugh crazily like an avenger about to strangle her, but rather of a creepy calm murmur in the garden, the tone rose and lowered just to expose enough relief, not enough satisfaction, as if crossing out a photo of a wall that already rutted beneath the vined roots of revenge.

"Adil, just...clear your mind, think of your daughter, your people, your town, please."

"...my forgiveness has already wilted twenty years ago, Demond."

Despite a slight quiver of her tiny frame upon the name 'selene', the taunting tilt of the avenger's head sealed finality that would even deny her savior's plead, for the witch saved her empty vessal, but not her soul. Veins gathered beneath them, crawling up towards the icy trails the bare feet of the witch stood upon, ready for her friend's rebellion against her lasting will for a final resolution.

The witch sighed of a stubborness unfolding after all these years, reminding her of a certain old wolf. Frosty glitters gathered at her right palm, her eyes glimmered of the icy solemn that mirrored the ones from the tragedy that once defined them.

The dawn casted upon the two old friends readied for a clash, as a shadow hid amongst the cloud, glancing upon the battle that would unfold, her usual curiosity undeterred by the sorrowful tension between the survivors of her own kin's pillage, as the white hooded robes hid beneath an amused gaze as if watching a fight between caged animals.