The mixer approached the ridge slowly, leading its pack to the summit. Its raven tail hung low as it strode to the edge, imprinting its paws on the snow. And paused as it unleashed a piercing howl under the two milky rocks in the sky, while its thick, ivory fur was windswept.
A pack of mixies followed its cry, their voices blending perfectly into the night.
As the town, a few distances away from the ridge, celebrated, as they feasted with joy in their homes and kept them warm against the freezing weather outside.
However as the town experienced the time of its life. It wasn't the same for this house, with its dull, angled roof blending into the dark, bathed by the moon's gradient, and a spruce door that had deteriorated slightly.
For her, this wasn't a kind of night—it was a nightmare for her that's tormenting the soul.
"Madan," Hade said, "I'm going to be a mage," and made a heart-melting smile to Katrine—who was sitting on the unsheeted bed for two—with a voice carrying a fierce tone as he placed the fantasy book he'd been holding onto the bookshelf, which was packed with other mystical books.
The bland walls behind them glared with a look of death, with dull, old pavements, while the cobwebs hung freely on the dusty columns of the room.
At the center, a rotting table with a white cup of tea on top was left untouched. And a poorly lit lamp was sitting besides the cold cup of tea as it lights up the whole room.
Katrine grinned as she stood frozen in silence, hearing the words of Hade. She touched her temple and sighed. Her breath was shallow, and a pebble of cold sweat clung to her brow.
What now? she thought, her fingers fidgeted as she clutched the fabric of her long, emerald-green skirt with her sweaty palms. She tapped her feet against the solid ground, as though trying to destroy it.
Her pupils welled up with a sudden warm liquid, which spilled over her face, slid down drop by drop, like a gust of rain that continued to descend until her face was submerged in agony.
Hade immediately noticed the breakdown of her; hence, he rapidly approached Katrine, planning to give her a warm cuddle on a freezing night.
She cordially opened her arms to Hade with a hesitant smile, her fingers twitching as she stretched them wide. Sweat gleamed along her forehead. Her pupils glistened with sorrowful bliss.
She cried as she was enveloped by Hade's hug like a warm blanket, comforting her from her chills.
"Why are you crying, Madan," he asked, rubbing his palm gently on her back. "Do you have a problem," he added, assuring her, "I'm here with you, okay," as Katrine sobs like an infant into his arms, giving solace through this gloomy night.
"I'm sorry, Hade, I couldn't bear this night," she paused as she sobbed, pulling the sleeve of her son's shirt. "I am helpless, I'm sorry. I don't have the power to protect you."
"Madan, what do you mean," he asked as he tightened his arms around her. "I'll protect us from harm! After all, I will get my aspect later on," he said while Katrine strongly held to Hade's sleeves.
Katrine gazed at her son's face, holding it gently with her trembling hands. She didn't even bother to answer Hade's question. Instead, "Remember that kind people are always the strongest, Hade…"
Ding!
The pendulum's ting echoed through the silence, slicing the moments between them. It marked the hour—midnight had arrived.
The echoes of the pendulum blend with the cluttering of marching iron, growing more raucous.
She was strictly discerned by the threat, Katrine swiftly let go of her hands from Hade's face, yelling at Hade to go underneath to conceal himself from danger. Although she knew this plan would not work. She at least wants to sacrifice herself to his son once more.
Nodding, Hade swiftly bent his knees and crawled his way underneath the dusty bed without reluctance. His mother locked the unvarnished door, engraved with many child drawings. Filled with moments of him growing up.
After Katrine locks the door, she rapidly grasps the handle of the crooked broom sitting in the corner.
She stands a few meters behind the door solidly, aiming it towards the door unfazed by the risk of biting the dust.
Moments later, a man on the other side says, "Don't be a fool, Madan, resisting will only result in death," in a dry and cold tone.
A hush greeted him.
Katrine stood still, sharpening her senses, expanding her chest, and exhaling warm air through her nostrils. "Leave us alone," she said, breaking the silence. "Don't call me Madan! I'm not your guardian!" she added, furrowing her brows.
The man on the other side blurted out a husky, teasing, chuckle despite the midst of tension. "I was politely addressing you," he acerbically said as he laughed thoroughly.
He laughed and laughed and laughed like a madman before he slammed the door open altogether like an unrestrained, prowling beast hunting his meal in the wilderness.
The door fell to the earth unveiling Schroin, with its broad frame, very manly and masculine, an inch taller than Katrine, and a beard that masked his developed jawbone as he grinned.
Katrine remains motionless, holding the crooked broom, standing firmly, drenched in sweat. Looking like a child who seeks protection from the abyss.
"I won't let you take my child, Schroin!" She cries, stepping back, before charging forward to Schroin, who's unarmed. She whispers an incantation; rosing her arms in the air. The broom suddenly enveloped with azure light.
"Well, if you insist, then I will put you down," he said, smiling with his tongue out, looking like a maniac, his eyes gleamed malicious intent.
Schroin chose not to evade the attack; instead, he stood his ground, unwavering and prepared to take the blow. "Hehe."
Hade was in utter fear, trembling violently as he watched his Katrine's bravery to protect him. Crystal liquid began streaming down his face; hence, he used his own cloth to wipe his drowned face.
As Schroin staggered confidently, the blow struck his shoulder with more force than he had anticipated. He groaned as his shoulder throbbed from the impact, sending a sharp pain through his neck. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were tormented—a near-death experience.
Katrine huffled violently and swiftly stepped back, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, drained from expending half her energy.
"Your aura manipulation has gotten better than the last time," he said, laughing as blood dripped from his mouth. "I guess you're eagerly wanting to avenge your husband," he sighed, his head bleeding, "Poor you…"
Katrine grinned and clenched her fist at Schroin's words as she felt her blood boiled from the mockery.
"Last time, I spared your life from the Grim Reaper. But now... I won't," Schroin exclaimed, pausing as he clenched his fists.
He uttered an incantation, "Fist of the Grim Reaper." His hands suddenly radiated, encased in an indigo flame.
Katrine feels a shiver run down through her spine as she feels goosebumps rosing her arms from what she's watching. Is it really a purple flame? She thought as she continued huffing. I thought Only three people by far had achieved this type of aura color since. And the ones who get this aura color are called a so-close Demigod.