The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today-Chapter 47: The Defiled’s Last Prayer

Petals flew around the fallen druid and the witch, as the garden was colored and soured into a frozen wasteland, a result of two rooted devastation between old friends. Foggy freshness filled the witch's nostrils, then into her lungs, and finally into her stomach, the poison inside her quivered like a beast in a corner as it was slowly devoured by the witch's magic.

The witch's breath unfurled a living mist of ice, as her face was marred with scattering frosts in her cheek. Feeling her lungs' beasts cowering and tearing away, she tapped her old friend's head with her staff, thorns sinking into the cloths as it threatened with no mercy against the protector who prioritised hatred over her duty, the druid's eyes still steady with no hints of resign or defeat.

"I will not, Demond." The druid casually lowered her head, the scent of ice dusts and flowers chipping away her lips. "Kill me if you need to. It will be the only way you could deactivate the runes."

"...don't bullshit me." The witch seethed her teeth, as the roses' thorns further sunk into Adil's skins, black blood now seeping that spoke of utter malice and corruption, as no signs of pain even registered for the Druid's expression. Demond narrowed her eyes in pure rage, no longer sorrowing but merely frustrated.

"Twenty years. Adil. Twenty years. I won't bother to lecture you about metrics, so I will at least spare you the time." Demond's staff pulsed as it pushed further into the druid's skull, the magic within mirroring the icy cruelty of her owner. "I will hesitate, yes. But if you insist to keep your stubborness, I would no longer bother to make Selene an orphan for the second time, you hear me?"

The absence of shouting, but merely a whisper of a merciless threat against her child shuttered even the silvery gaze of the Druid, the reality sinking in as the words bent and swriled even the redness that fueled her for twenty years, but...she nodded her head, the children's laughters that warped into cries, the sisters' playful groaning that unraveled into a smiley, silent acceptance as the flames engulfed their skins, stilled the redness once more.

"...just do it then, old friend."

The druid's calm embrace for death betrayed her lasting care for her daughter, tints of defeat texturing her words and tone. The witch scowled at the bitterness of the old hag's dishonesty, her staff further stuttering in its magic to echo the decaying, exhausted roots that bowed for the thorns, children unwilling to meet her master's eyes for their failures.

The icy vines quivered at the druid's flesh, the black blood tainting the pure, glittering ice, the majestic crowns of the icy rose now tarred in the blood of 'betraying' her old friend, but the ice witch hardly seethed, her throat buzzling of fogs instead of mudded poison, as she lowered her staff and stared coldly into Adil's silvery eyes, the ragged edges now tasted the blood not of defeat, but a hunger that belied the witch's shaky resolve, as they slowly sunk further into the druid's neck.

Silence swallowed them whole, as the Druid's body twitched at her tremoring throat, air and bloods eagerly darting out in small tints as they leaked down. The witch's shivering gaze continued to burrow into hers, the question 'is this what you want' continuing to sour over her bloodied mind, as Adil's calm gaze wavered, pain finally rushing her head like a latecoming tide.

The fallen Druid, with even a small shred of her dignity left, forced her body still, the quivering limbs convulsed against the her nerves to accept death with the last grace, just as her burning sisters did. The redness, muddling hatred clashing against the immediate, meaningless death, the crunching of the frobitten bites scarring her scarlet resolve.

The helpless Druid's eyes, however, met a certain petal that hovered over her emptying gazes. An ice butterfly, with delicate wings that spoke an icy-soft hardness, ferried a petal of a white lily. The whiteness filled her vision, as her dying grasp further sunk into her reddened mind, the memory of relief in coiling her stomach with the lily's death blaring her hatred, a momentary flare of a youthful resolution.

But her memory defied even that purpose she has refused to withhold in twenty years, as the scenery of Selene, that brat she always named as an useless, naive and immature successor, flooded her mind as she giggled amongst the sea of lilies, a well-meaning child caring for the seed of hatred that rotted even her mother's wills.

Her stillness stuttered, a warmful, small light blinking in the red abyss that clouded her mind, paired with an utter dread that would soon come if her death was to proceed. The druid gasped, a gesture unbefitting her silent, vengeful demenour as she grasped the icy vines with cowering gaze, the slited silvers now widening against her dignity, all to blurt out a coiled murmur.

"I-in the name of Adil the Druid....silence your prayers, runes of sollied deaths."

The witch hitched her breath, before heaving a deep sigh as her vines slipped, the Druid slumped to the ground as she breathed blood and thorns. The witch glanced down, her icy eyes like a blizzard hesitating, not out of pity, but to watch the pathetic avenger that submitted only in her last defiant moment that would meet death in a sweet embrace.

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Runes beneath the witch's iced feet blinked, as the soils no longer whispered a desperate screech for relief of death, silencing themselves as if finally given the autonomy to collapse in flowered coffins. What followed was a weep, not of grief, but of a belated hatred. Why now, the tears asked, why only now. The vampires' and demons' shivers of gratitudes and regrets drummed her mind, each tremor a sorrowful utterance for the deserving, final rest unrobbed.

The witch inhaled, exhaled, her exasperation never leaving as it twisted her steady, unnerving heartbeat, as she stared at Adil, as if looking at not an old friend, but an insect crawling for the first time.

"See? Was it so hard after all, old hag?"

With that final statement, the witch turned away, her light steps that spoke an unusal majesty foiled even imprints of footsteps, as carpets of ice followed beneath her feet, the privllege of a victor, the measured steadiness of an unstitched bond. The last thing to go under the sunlight was her shadow, it left standing, unwavering.

The tiny giant, the avenger that casted away even her soul, merely lied exhausted, the soil now brimming with a sign of life, deprived of dread and despair from corpses stolen and resculpted. The weep, however, still lingered in the wind, a wail of vengance against the Druid for a cruelty all too late to be undone.

Adil's limbs loosened, her neck marring black bloods as she gasped for life. Unbeknownst to her, hints of redness returned to her vein as it slipped out from her pierced throat, the redness she despises, the redness she abandoned, the redness she whispered into a coppery, unwanted existence.

Regrets, is it? No...it was a mere confusion. Adil narrowed her eyes at slight drops of blood tickling from her arms, legs and limbs, the lasting mercy from her....old friend, an off-key impalement of grudges for her crumbled will.

The Druid sprawled on the ground, eyes fluttering close as she bathed in the warm sunlight, as she allowed memories of children's laughter playing under the sun swarming her reddened her hatred, before she dribbled herself into an abyss, black droplets a bizzare pairing with a honeyed, ironed, pure red.

The wind swirled around the Druid, cradling her wrinkled cheeks in softness for an unexpected homecoming. Perhaps they have waited in sighing drifts, perhaps they have resented in slicing gusts, but never do they doubt in howling maw, for they will not rip away her plump, corrupted flesh for what had been, but what could have been.

Yet, even the patience was silenced, as the gusts stilled in the air, their respect amounted to nothing before a might far grander than time itself. Petals hovering now colored a waiting as they froze in the air, and the black vines' stuttering ceased, their pleas a lie before an unyielding concept that was interrupted and manipulated.

Time has frozen. Not encased in ice or blackened in a unliving photograph, but just frozen, naturally as if on a whim. Admist the suspended time, a hooded figure landed upon the dead soils, her emerald eyes sweeping over the frozen wasteland, before smiling at the blackened roots.

Her bare steps tapped the ground, the sickening gracefulness unbelying of the joyful curiosity at a newfound child, now about to be abandoned by their mother. She leaned down to the root, carrassing like an adult to a crying orphan, before muttering a chant, the dragon's language glowing with power as the scales shimmered in the sunlight.

Then, the children answered to her invasive touch in a silent scream, as the roots plucked themselves from the ground with a thud, before collapsing into each other, coiling like tissue papers before forming a ball-like blackness. The emerald-eyed dragon chuckled, not in resentment or pridefulness, but a deep-seated hunger for knowledge as her hand grasped the black ball, before embracing it like an infant reborn for greatness.

Her loving embrace, however, was interrupted with a heat in the air, a controlled heat that would burn away the world itself. The dragon frowned, her dried lips now threatening to leak magma, as her skin exhaled steam to confess the unbearing hotness, an abyssal warmth in contrast to the merciful sunlight.

"It has been a long time, sister."

The mutter echoed in the emerald dragon's ears, as another chuckle, this time of relief, escaped her pained lips. Even among the stilled time, even when frosted vines from the icy rose no longer breathed fogs of frost, a Queen's greeting spoke a tale of an upcoming, indifferent annilation, her fire could scorch even time itself.