"Wake up, Lazy Old Man! Wake up, Lazy Old Man!"
Demond groaned and rolled over, his eyes squinting against the blinding sunlight that had somehow managed to sneak past his curtains. The incessant chanting grew louder, sharp shrieks that announced a new beginning to yet another sweltering day of 'making breakfast, then sleeping again', the perfect life for a retired, old mage, the dreams of a modern man's 'economically self-sufficient' plan.
"Wake up, Old Man! Old man? Stupid old man! Perverted Old Man! Wake up!"
"That last one is really uncalled for…" Demond, the pervert groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His limbs creaked as his beard fell onto the floor, a testament to his laziness for trimming. With a bit of grudge, he stared at his 'daughter-voiced' alarm clock, a parrot he'd named Pippy, which was currently dancing on the windowsill, flapping its wings and squawking to the rhythm of the morning chorus.
"Wakey wakey! Time for peace and your v-card gone!"
Chuckling in defeat, the old man pushed himself out of bed, his ancient bones protesting every inch of the way. He stretched his long, wrinkled arms, his hands reaching for the heavens in a silent plea for the strength to endure the day ahead. The parrot, seemingly satisfied with its performance, took a dramatic bow, its feathers fluttering gracefully in the early morning breeze.
Yet unbefitting the grace of an old mage, as he stepped out of his bed, his step slipped on a bundle of straw-like material, his head smacking the edge of the bed. As his sour throat groaned, he realised his long beard had a new accessory—a crumpled footprint.
"Clumsy Old Man! Dummy Old-Aaaaaaah!"
Demond's grumble was cut short by a shriek from Pippy, as the petty old mage reflexively threw a fireball at the ceiling, narrowly missing the parrot. The flaming projectile created a small explosion, showering the room with sparks and dust. The blast knocked a few scrolls off their precarious perches, and they fluttered down like leaves in an autumn breeze.
"One more, parrot. And we will have you for dinner tonight." Demond's eyes narrowed into slits, the playfulness gone as he bent down to pick up his beard. He examined the footprint with a furrowed brow, then turned to glower at the bird. "Any guest today?"
Pippy ruffled her feathers, looking innocent. "None! None! Stay in your house, Old Man!" she squawked, clearly enjoying the little game she played every morning.
Sighing, Demond picked up his beard from the floor, shaking off the dust and reattach it to his chin with a magical twirl of his fingers. The parrot cackled, flapping its wings in excitement as it watched the display of magic. Despite his grumbling, the old mage couldn't help but feel a spark of energy as he went through the motions of his morning routine.
A coffee always hit the spot, so Demond shuffled into his kitchen, the wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. He rummaged through his messy pantry, his eyes finally landing on a jar labeled 'Essence of Dragon's Breath'. The potent aroma of the coffee beans promised to kick start his day like nothing else. The grinder roared to life, the smell of freshly ground beans filling the room as he carefully measured out a spoonful. The sound of boiling water and the sizzle of hot oil filled the air as he began cooking his breakfast.
Srambled eggs, it is then. The old mage smiled as he hummed a tune from his high school days, his hoarse throat giving it an eerie twist that would've made any musician cringe. His kitchen, a companion to his culinary laziness, was a chaotic symphony of half-empty jars, dusty cauldrons, and forgotten ingredients that had morphed into something unidentifiable. Yet amidst this chaos, Demond managed to whip up a decent breakfast, his hands moving with a surprising grace for their age.
The sizzle of eggs in the pan was accompanied by the crackle of a small fire he'd started with a flick of his wrist. He tossed in some dried herbs he'd picked from his garden last week, uncombed even when the pixies of old age played hide and seek with his memory. The aroma filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of dust and ancient tomes that lined the walls of his small cottage. The flame danced under the pan, reflecting in his eyes, which had lost none of their sharpness despite the years.
Reminds him the university days, the fire, the flame, the smell of burnt things... He chuckled in nostalgia, flipping the eggs with a spatula that looked suspiciously like a wand. The eggs, however, remained stubbornly unflipped. Then, he tried and failed to catch the pan with his bare hand, dropping the spatula in surprise. The eggs landed on the floor, and Pippy took off, squawking in terror.
"Shut it…" Demond mumbled as he bent down to pick up the spatula, his knees cracking like dry twigs. He glared at Pippy, who had taken refuge on top of the bookshelf, feathers puffed out like a tiny, feathery dragon. The parrot squawked something unintelligible but with a clear tone of mockery.
Rolling his eyes, as if facing an old friend, Demond grabbed a dustpan and began cleaning up his breakfast mishap. The floorboards protested with every step, echoing his own grumbling. The former university student can't believe it, but that cliche line of 'it's not like this back in the old days' actually applied to him.
Once the eggs were safely back in the pan, he tried again, this time with more caution, the rest of the cooking session went on without further incidents. As he plated his food, the aroma of the spiced eggs wafted through the air, tantalizing his taste buds and reminding him that breakfast was indeed a meal worth waking up for.
His sipped his coffee with a satisfied 'Ah', letting the heat warm him from the inside out. The caffeine hit him like a bolt of lightning, jolting his sluggish thoughts into action, a perfect rememberance for the written assignments he had to wade through. He sat at his small, round table, surrounded by the clutter of a life well-lived. The plank was scarred with burn marks from past experiments, and the chairs were held together by nothing more than spider webs and hope.
As he took his first bite of eggs, his wrinkled eyes fluttered to the sight of something…light. Literally, light. A glowing envelope sat on the table, untouched by the mess around it, as if it was placed there by invisible hands. He stared at it, chewing his food slower.
"Come to steal breadcrumbs again, pixy?" Demond said to the 'light', his voice casual and his warm eyes still on the glowing envelope.
The light swirled and danced, as if trying to convey a message. Demond watched as it blinked around like a fly trapped in a jar, her form unmistakable, even if she had decided to visit him in her ethereal form.
"I get it I get it…clean up the room, you say?" Demond said to the pixy as he eyed the envelope. The light grew brighter, and the pixy's laughter chimed like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"But I refuse!" Demond exclaimed, swiping a hand through the air as the light dissipated, the pixy's laughter still ringing in his ears. He stabbed a piece of egg with his fork, eyeing the envelope warily. "One of this Demond Rohan's absolute favourite things to do, is to tell someone who I think is weak, 'no'-"
The old mage choked on the egg, his eyes widened in disappointment for his failed reference. He cleared his throat with some rough slurping and picked up the envelope with a trembling hand, feeling the warmth emanating from it. The parchment was of the finest quality, with intricate runes tracing the edges that shimmered with an arcane energy that seemed almost alive. His heart began to race as he recognized the seal - it was from the Royal Council.
The invitation to the peace banquet, it must be. The mage recalled his daughter's brave feat for the defeat of the Demon King. A sense of pride and nostalgia filled his chest. It had been years since he'd last seen her in person, her letters filled with tales of her new life at the Royal Palace, her growth as a court mage, and her blossoming…'friendship' with the young queen. He broke the seal with his thumb, the wax giving way with a satisfying snap.
"Hi, Old Man! How are you doing?! I miss you so much! That's a lie, by the way. I'm doing great with the Queen *wink*wink*, but I've been told I have to invite you to this fancy party for peace or something like that. Apparently, it's a big deal. The Royals' stinkers are all going to be there, and they want to show off how their precious little court mage helped save the world. Yawn. But hey, I guess it's your moment to shine, Daddy Dearest! Don't forget to wear your cleanest robes, and maybe don't freeze anyone's hair with ice this time, alright? Oh, and don't tell any dirty jokes, I've heard enough of those to last a lifetime. Love you, see you soon! Don't be late, or I'll tell them you're dead! - Your ever-so-lovely, daughter, Alice!"
"PS: At least pretend you're excited there, Old Man!" The parchment quivered as if the very ink itself was speaking, mimicking the playful tone of his daughter's voice. The sight of her handwriting brought a smile to Demond's face, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of joy mixed with the slightest hint of annoyance. He had taught Alice many things, but subtlety was not one of them.
"Seriously…that child never learns mannerisms…" he grumbled to the pixy dancing on the table, now munching on his leftover crumbs. The pixy just giggled, her glow dimming as she enjoyed the meal she hadn't earned.
"Now if only I had a decent set of robes that didn't smell like a tarred man after a pub crawl," Demond murmured to himself, his gaze drifting to the pile of robes in the corner of the room. Most of them were patched together with various spells and potions that had gone wrong over the years. He sighed, knowing that finding something presentable would be a quest in and of itself.
"Hey little pixy. You had some spells on the nature's skill trees, don't…" the old mage frowned, his words hung in the air as the pixy, who was playfully touching his coffee, now froze as if in fear. She looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent, as if she had done nothing wrong. The old mage chuckled to himself, "I'll let this one slide. Just listen to this old man's grumbling for a little while…god, I sound old."
Chuckling as the pixy darted away, as she resumed her panicky dance of innocence, Demond smirked. "Don't mind it too much. My hometown told of a law 'guilty before proven innocent', but allow my stomach to be the jury today." He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the taste.
And yet, the pixy remained frozen in place, her eyes darting back and forth between the old mage and the door. Sensing her unease, Demond set down his coffee cup and leaned closer. "What's the matter, little one?" he asked gently. The pixy's glow dimmed even further, and she whispered something so faint that he had to strain his hearing to make it out.
"R-run…" the pixy's voice trembled, her light flickering like a candle in the wind.
Demond's smile faded, his eyes narrowing in concern. "What is it?"
The pixy's light grew erratic, and she pointed at the door with a trembling lighted finer. "D-danger! Hide!"
A silence grew as the mage closed his eyes, his mana spread beyond the old hut, across his garden, reaching out into the nearby forest. He searched, his senses attuned to any sign of trouble. His heart hammered in his chest, his breakfast forgotten. It was not before his sight was set on the sky, that he finally, calmly opened his eyes.
"Pippy." Demond called out, his voice firm yet calm. The parrot, who had been quietly watching the exchange, fluttered over to him, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "I thought we had no visitor today."
Pippy looked at him, his expression was that of a saddened child who had just realized their playtime was over. "Old Man! Outside! Danger! Death!"
Then as if in hesitation for his master's caution, Pippy stated again. "Stay in your house! Stay in your house!"
The old man gazed at the parrot with a mix of amusement and concern. "Death you say?" He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The pixy's light grew fainter, her fear palpable in the still air of the kitchen.
"Right." The old man stretched his limb, as if the so-called death outside was just another mischievous pixy that needed to be shooed away. He stood up, his knees crackling like dry twigs. "I need to reply to my dear daughter. Peace banquet isn't really my thing but…"
He petted the parrot, who seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation and flew to his shoulder, her eyes darting to the door, then back to him. The pixy hovered near the window, her glow dimming to a faint blue as she peeked outside, her wings beating a frantic tattoo against the stillness of the room.
"Pixy." The glowing, mischievous creature looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. "It would seem our guest wishes for a…quiet meeting. Would you mind telling your friends in the forest to scurry away for somewhere safe? Let's see…right, the Cave for the Resting Wolves would do. Tell them it is I who sent you."
The pixy nodded vigorously, and with a flash of light, she disappeared, leaving behind a trail of shimmering dust that danced in the shafts of morning sunlight. Demond watched her go, his expression unreadable. He turned to Pippy. "Now, bird. Time to prove your worth. Get my staff, a pen and some papers. We'll play scribe and save the World once again, won't we?"
Pippy squawked in what could only be interpreted as a yes, and took off towards the bedroom. The old mage took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of his own magic and the anticipation of the unknown. The peacefulness outside was eerie, a stark contrast to the panic within. The silence was broken only by the distant sounds of his parrot friend scouring his room for the required tools.
His eyes smiled as the parrots flew back to him again, his table above now floated bubbles of his parrot's making. Inside them were neatly placed parchments, a pen, and his favorite staff. It was a gnarled piece of wood, polished smooth by time and use, with no fancy runes or crystals adorning it. Just a simple, reliable staff that had seen him through many battles, more hangovers and his first wonder for the magic instead of tools from modern times.
The old mage sighed as he sat back down. His hand now drawn into the bubbles as he picked from them the pen and papers. "Let's see…Dear Alice…"
As if patient for his command, the quill hovered above the parchment, the ink inside glowing with anticipation. Demond took a deep breath, focusing his mana, and began to scribble his response. Each word conveyed a sentiment of love, pride, and a hint of teasing. He had always been a man of few words, but when it came to his daughter, he could fill a library with his thoughts.
"…and so if you dare touch the queen, you will face my wrath which will last a millennium longer than your existence, darling daughter." With a chuckle, Demond finished his letter, sealing it with a dab of wax from the candle flaming on the table. The candle, untouched by the pixy's glow, had been burning steadfastly since the dawn of the day.
"Now then, Pippy. My old friend." Demond whispered the parrot, who now hang on his shoulder. The parrot has seen wars, and wars had seen Demond, and she knew better than to interrupt his thoughts. The room grew still as the old man's eyes took on a faraway look, his hand hovering over the letter, his mind racing with thoughts of the banquet, his daughter, and the past fault that finally came back to him once again.
He held the finished letter to the parrot, smiling with regrets. "Do take care of my daughter, would you?"
Pippy took the letter with her foot, holding it as if it was the most precious treasure. Her eyes gleamed with understanding, yet her head shook. Her master is about to die, and yet he jokes. "No, Old Man," she squawked solemnly.
The old mage chuckled, the sound echoing through the room, a stark contrast to the tension that had just settled in. "Ah, my dear parrot. I wish this is a manga where we can march on blazing in the fire together, but alas, this isn't fiction."
His gaze, before it was casual, friendly and loosed, now sharpened and focused, as he uttered. "Your final, resting place is not here, nor today. Take this letter to Alice, tell her I'm coming. Be sure to…to tell her I am safe, yes, safe and sound. And tell her to keep you fed instead of forgetting all the time. That's an order from your master, you know?"
The parrot looked at him, her eyes shining with intelligence. Nodding in reluctance, she squeaked as her wings spread wide. With a beat, she took off, the envelope secure in her beak.
The old man chuckled, as his hand trembled slightly, watching Pippy vanish into the distance. "What is with me today? Always telling others not to set up death flags and yet…hehehe…"
He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the messy room. "Alright, let's do this. Time to clean up a bit first."
With a wave of his hand, Demond sent a gust of wind sweeping through the room, scattering dust and papers in every direction. He muttered under his breath, casting a simple cleaning spell. The dust bunnies grew in size and scurried away to hide under the bed, while the scrolls and tomes hovered back to their designated places. The kitchen sparkled with magic as the broom swept the floor with ease of a professional servant, the dishes washing themselves.
As the room was now squeaky clean, his eyes hovered over to a photo revealed on the ground. A young Alice, crossing her shoulders and puffing, her cheeks red with pride and mischief. It was the day she had managed to cast her first spell without setting the kitchen on fire. The memory brought a warm smile to his face, but the smile was short-lived.
With a resolve to face the impending danger, Demond shuffled to the door as he picked his stafff from the floating bubble. His hand, now steady with age-old instincts, wrapped around the wooden grip, feeling the familiar warmth and power of his life's companion.
The fresh air of the forest filled Demond's lungs as he opened the door, the scent of dew-kissed leaves and distant campfires a stark contrast to the mustiness of his hut. He took a moment to appreciate the serenity, before he looked up to the shadowy, looming threat of the dragon above his head.
Contary to the fiery gaze, the dragon was calm, almost serene. It hovered just beyond the treeline, watching him with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries. The creature's scales shimmered in the early light, casting a spectrum of colors across the clearing. Demond felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, but it was tinged with something new—respect.
"Adrei. It has been a while." Demond spoke softly to the dragon, his voice carrying through the clearing. He knew the creature could hear him despite the distance.
The golden dragon, Adrei, dipped its head slightly, a gesture that could be mistaken for a nod if one didn't know better. It had been decades since Demond had last faced such a creature, yet here she was, now as solemn as a wise queen should be.
"It's only been twenty years, old friend." The dragon's voice was deep and resonant, the sound of ancient whispers through a vast cavern. She circled lazily, her wings casting shadows that danced upon the ground. "You look well, considering for how long you have hidden from us."
"Well, twenty years are enough to collect dust upon my…perverted collection." Demond chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the sight of the majestic creature.
"And twenty year…is enough for your daughter to be one of heroes among the legends." Adrei's voice grew serious, the air around her shimmered with the intensity of her words. "I've come to ask for your death, your submission, old friend. For the sake of our kinds' wrath, for the selfish justice you brought upon our tyrant without consoling, you must die, my saviour."
The words hit him like a ton of bricks. Twenty years ago, he had slain the dragon tyrant, Adalon. A creature whose wrath had brought fear and destruction to the lands, and the one his comrade abandoned his daughter for, before the old mage saved her as Alice and perished the dragon, and coincidentally, led Adrei's rise to fame as the only successor to Adalon, along with her peace's offerings from finally escaping her father's violent abuses.
"It needs not be like this, Dragon Queen of Tamara." The old mage nodded, his gaze heavy with his beg for mercy. "Let bygones be bygones. This…this father is afraid of his own death, not for himself, but for the child he promised a banquet with."
"Yet our kind's pride won't cease to be, Demond. You know full well the consequences of your actions," Adrei replied, her words carrying the weight of generations of dragon tradition and honor. "You've had your peace, but when it's time for your end, let us face it with grace, not fear."
"…cowardice, cowardice haha…" Demond chuckled, leaning heavily on his staff. "Truthfully, I've had enough. Facing a dragon at this age? Even this old man knew there would no longer be any last spark of sudden empowerment I would have like a protagonist. Still…" His eyes grew misty, the tremble in his voice belying his fear. "I can't leave Alice without saying goodbye, without leaving her legacy a deserved praise I promised, without enjoying the peace me and my companions prayed for with these 70 years of bloodsheds and tears."
Then, unbefitting of an old mage's, the mage took from his robe's pocket a small pouch, inside was memories of his long-forgotten work days, days of sweat and tears with his co-workers as he moved tiles, bricks and mortars, while riding machines this age of Magic would have a hard time to believe existed.
And so as he hugged his staff, the old mage took from his pouch for one last time: a cigarette, fiddling it between his fingers. The dragon's fiery gaze flickered with curiosity as she watched him, her scales fluttering gently in the breeze. The act was not alien to her: she recognized that familiar gesture of contemplation, as the old mage tugged the cigarette into his bearded lips, lightened by the blaze magic at his thumb.
"Adrei…my old friend, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to see this pitiful old man clinging to life so desperately for my child's sake."
Then as if accepting everything, the old mage puffed out a smoke. His humility, pride, happiness, sorrow danced in the air, as the longing taste of tar and nicotine filled his mouth. A habit from his old world when his family talked of the next dinner instead of war, and a symbol of peace that was so alien to this world of magic and monsters.
"So allow this foolish old bone to struggle, for one last time, will you?" Mana gathers as the mage's staff begins to pulse with a gentle blue light. The dragon's gaze narrows, and she unleashes a fiery breath that scorches the air, signaling her intent to fight. The flames dance around Demond, colluding the cigarette's smoke in-between his fingers, but his eyes do not leave hers.
"Come." With this declaration, the old mage flicked his wrist and the cigarette transformed into a bolt of lightning, shooting straight towards the dragon.
Laughing, the dragon met the lightning with a sweep of her tail, the electricity crackling and dissipating against her scales. There is now only determination and the promise of battle in her eyes, as she spreads her wings of pride, pride not of a dragonkind, but of being worthy to face a foe of legend once more.
"Very well, old one." Adrei's voice boomed across the clearing, a mix of respect and challenge. With a powerful beat of her mighty wings, she ascended into the sky, the air displaced by her movement causing the trees to sway violently. The dragon's eyes narrowed, and she opened her jaws, revealing rows of serrated teeth that gleamed like molten gold.
As always, a rash habit to finish everything with one move, is it? The old mage scowled yet chuckled, his eyes reflecting the dragon's fiery gaze. With a swift motion, he raised his staff high into the air, the blue light swirling into a cyclone of power around him. The very air crackled with anticipation as the dragon dove, her wings folded back as her jaws now harboured a maelstrom of fire, ready to unleash her fury upon the ground beneath.
The old mage took a deep breath, the air around him thick with the heat of Adrei's breath and the electric anticipation of their imminent clash. He focused his mind, channeling the power of the elements into his staff.
"I dreamed of a World without frost." The old mage chanted, as he raised his staff that glowed of blue, the color of a frosty dawn. The air around him grew colder, the heat of the dragon's breath countered by the sudden chill that spread from the tip of his staff. Ice began to form around the mage, a crystalline armor that grew stronger with every beat of his clentching lungs.
"I weeped for the sorrows of the forgotten." Demond's voice was calm, steady and resonant as the chant continued. His eyes, now as blue as the ice that surrounded him, bore into Adrei's fiery gaze. The dragon felt the chill in the air, the temperature dropping so quickly it was as if the sun had abandoned them.
"In a snowfield that howled only of silence, I alone stood tall." The ice then coated his body, his whisper echoing through the clearing. The dragon's fiery scale was drenched wet as smoke hissed from the sudden temperature drop, a clash of frost and fire.
"Yet the destined death may never reach, and innocents shan't be paid my sin's folly." Demond's chant grew louder, the air around him shimmering with the promise of an icy tempest. The staff, glowing the lightest it has seen since decades, now shivered with power that seemed to have a mind of its own. The wood would not last long, but as if echoing the last stand of its master, it held firm, unyielding.
"And so may my cries be heard, a blizzard that enshrouded only me and thee." Demond's final incantation pierced the air as he pointed his staff towards his long-last rival, comrade, and perhaps, in some ways, the one he truly feared to face, not of death that will come, but of the unspoken future after his death.
"For I rest here my prayer: a lost requiem." Demond silently declared, the words tearing through the air like a sonic boom. The swirling blue light grew brighter, forming a colossal sphere of ice that shot towards Adrei. The dragon's fiery eyes widened in surprise, yet she did not flinch.
This is the final resolve of a man determined to die, and the dragon, with a heart of gold, understood that. Adrei knew she had to end this, not only for the sake of their kind, but for the man who had once saved her from the tyranny of her own lineage. With a roar that shook the very earth beneath them, her own breath shot out, a whirlwind of fire that met the icy sphere in a spectacle of nature's might.
The clash of fire and ice was a silent scream, for the celebration of a peace they never earned or deserved. The dragon's fiery breath met the icy sphere in a display of primal power that could shake the very heavens. The heat and cold fought in a dance of destruction, aged oaks around them cracking from the sudden change in temperature, begging the titans for mercy they would no longer grant.
The old huts fell under the pressured winds of the clash, the ice shattering into a million shards as the fire consumed the spell in a flash. In a moment, all of Demond's memories were released, frozen moments of joy and sorrow, love and loss, fluttering like snowflakes in the eye of the storm.
With the home that housed his daughter's memories gone, the spell of his last will shattered into oblivion, and now, the first and final staff, his symbol of friendship with his companion, reduced to splinters, Demond felt a sudden lightness, a weight lifted off his shoulders, as the fiery breath of the dragon neared him.
His last thought was of home, of his daughter, of his comrades that would greet him at the edge of the world. His hand leaned into his pocket, took out another cigarette, and light it with the tip of his finger. As his lips met the cigarette, his beard is now smeared with the tar of reality, a stark contrast to the gentle smile as he faced the dragon's fiery embrace.
"Ah…right, I promised her I would quit." The old mage chuckled to himself, as the last vestige of his past crumbled to ash around him.
And so the old mage met his end. Adrei watched in silent respect as the ice that had encased him melted away, revealing a man at peace, the cigarette still smoldering between his cackled lips. The dragon's fiery breath had consumed the last of his defenses, yet the warmth of the flames had not burned him to ash, but rather embraced him in a fiery embrace that whispered of redemption and rest.
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…
Yet even with the foreignness for a distant traveler, coming back to home for his final journey, this classroom felt eerily familiar. His eyes wandered over the dusty chalkboard, the cracked and worn parquet floors, and the rows of benches that had seen better days. Memories flooded back, of a time when his greatest fear was forgetting his harsh lecturer's chalk throwing skills, not the fiery breath of a dragon.
Then with memory unrest, the scenery changes. The dusty chalkboard now covered with dusts and bricks, the creaked benches now replaced with the solid steel bars of scaffolding. The scent of ink and parchment is replaced with the scent of sweat, cement and magic engines.
The old mage chuckled, as the pixy swirled around him, curious of this scenery. This is the memory of a boy who struggled to survive in a strange world of mana and bloodshed, a time before he became a mediocre mage forgotten by times, and a father to a legend.
Entranced by nostalgia, the old mage opened his palm. Tars and dust swirled around his hand, and with a twirl of his fingers, he conjured a simple brick. It was a trick he had learned in his youth, a simple illusion to amuse the children of the village. But here, in this space of memory, the brick grew heavy with the weight of his past, a past when his first talent with magic is discovered.
He stared amused at the brick, but before he could say a word, the pixy snatched it with his beak, the weight of the memory making it fall like a real one. Pippy, seemingly unfazed by the sudden change in gravity, flew to the sky, but the old man blinked as colors of green and brown began to replace the classroom walls. The brick grew leaves and branches, becoming a tree, and the room was swallowed by the forest that he knew so well.
"Forest of Evermore…" the place where he brought his first companions to slay slimes for their first quest. The same place where he threw Alice into, claiming if she wants her next dinner, catch it herself.
The tree grew taller and taller, reaching the skies that were once so far away. The leaves grew greener, the branches wider, and the forest grew denser. As if knowing what's to come, the old mage closed his eyes, before the smell of flesh, iron and coal hit his nostrils.
Opening his eyes revealed a burning forest, a dragon's corpse, and his own youthful body, standing before the tree that had once been a brick. The young Demond, with a fiery passion that seemed to mirror Adrei's own, was surrounded by the scent of death. His companions lay scattered around, some burnt, others pierced by the dragon's claws. The battle had been fierce, a tale that would be sung for generations.
In the midst of the dragon's corpse, lies a calm, serene child, the target for his request, the reason for his hiding, and the hope of his legacy. The young Alice, her eyes wide with wonders and curiosity, as if seeing the world in its true colors for the first time. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with innocence, the same eyes that would one day hold the weight of the world.
So for a long while, Demond finally smiled. As he approached the young Alice, a voice called out from behind.
"Demond." The voice was faint, a whisper in the wind that seemed to echo through the charred remains of the forest. He turned to see the pixy again, but instead of sneezy chatters and laughters, that voice…it was Adrei.
"…so," the old mage began, kneeling before the young Alice, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and regret, "is this what you want to show me? That I shouldn't have taken this child?"
The blue pixy behind him grew larger, until it was as tall as a human child, and its eyes held a wisdom it had not gained yet, as it was still a young pixy. "Old one, if you know me, why would I make a sick joke like this?"
"Well," the old mage's sigh is a gentle whisper amidst the crackling flames of his past, "I suppose it's a good time to reflect on the choices I've made, Adalon's daughter. I've always known the path of a hero isn't for me, not when I…have sacrificed so much for this precious young brat."
The pixy, now in the form of Adrei, nodded solemnly. "But Demond, you never regretted it, did you?"
"I did not." Demond's voice was firm as he looked behind him, his sharp gaze into the eyes of the pixy, who now bore the form of a child, yet held the wisdom of a dragon queen. "I've made peace with my choices long ago. I…don't want to die, but if it is my death that bring dragonkind's anger to rest, then so be it."
A silence grew between the human mage and the dragon queen, the fire of the battle shimmered in Adrei's eyes as she studied the man who had once been her savior. She did not know the old man who murdered her father, however, she knew the old man who brought her up, who taught her the value of kindness and peace.
"A long time ago, when I was but a young dragon of fiery temper, I watched you stand up to Adalon. Despite your companions' fateful demise, you…remained alone, as my father's injured claws reached out for the innocent girl. Your bravery, your kindness, it was a beacon that pierced something in me that I…did not understand." Adrei's form grew translucent, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"I long since craved for the prideful eras of our dragon, one not when dragons hid in ignorance, but one when domineering humans in their metal beasts didn't exist." Adrei's words were a stark contrast to the gentle form of the pixy. "But your stubbornness…your strength as the weak brought me to my knees. For the first time in this world, I…was ashamed. And so, I watched you. I watched the way you raised Alice, the way you loved her, the way you rose her to be that young mage who snuffed out the Everflame Mountains with eternal ice. And I knew, the future of our worlds lay in her hands."
"And so, you gathered the elders for the Dragon Council." Demond played with Alice's fingers, as if he could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, the memory so vivid it was almost tangible. "You told them of your vision of peace, not of strength. As the Dragon queen, you believe your kind's fate is not with violence, but with carefulness and coexistence. I've heard from Alice, you are…an exceptional person."
"That exceptional person killed you just now, didn't she?" The pixy's form shimmered and grew, becoming the dragon queen once more, her huge fiery form casting shadows across the burnt earth.
"Tell me, Demond. What will you do now?" The dragon's question pierced the silence like a shard of ice, her eyes never leaving his own. The old mage ignored it and stared at Alice's small figure, the flames of the past licking at his heart.
"The same as I always do." And so, the old mage carried the child, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the coldness of his, and walked through the ashes of his past. The dragon's shadow grew smaller as they ventured into the heart of the forest, leaving the fiery battleground behind.
The smell of burnt trees and flesh slowly gave out, as gradually, they were replaced with lush green and the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The forest grew denser, the trees grew taller, and the air grew cleaner, as if the very essence of life was being restored around them. The shadows grew shorter and the sun grew brighter, the warmth of the sun kissing their skin as if to bid them welcome to the present.
And as they reached the clearing, they finally arrived: home. The small wooden hut with a crooked chimney stood tall against the backdrop of the ever-changing forest. The sun's rays danced through the leaves, painting a warm embrace across the well-trodden path leading to the door.
Smiling, the old mage stepped onto the porch, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. It had been so long since he'd seen the world without the tint of battle or the shadow of his past. Alice looked up at him, her eyes full of questions that had yet to form into words. He knew what she was thinking, the same curiosity that had always driven her.
And so, the old mage arrived at the end of his journey. The hut stood before him, a beacon of comfort and warmth, a stark contrast to the smells of sweats, tears and regrets.
——————
Demond's eyes woke up again. The scent of freshly brick from the forge mixed with the sweet aroma of the sweat from his coworkers. Yes, freshly and sweet, smells he would've not associated with smelly construction workers, but somehow in this dreamscape, it was a symphony of comfort.
He woke up, his eyes blinking as he felt something…strange. It was the same ceiling, yet it felt different. He looked around and realized he was in the hut, but everything was covered in a fine dust. The embers of the fireplace had gone cold and the room was dimly lit by the early morning light. Adrei's fiery breath had not destroyed his shelter, it had merely left a faint warmth and the smell of burnt oak in the air.
He frowned, but right as he rolled over from his bed, his expected beard…did not exist. He felt his face, smooth and clean. The room was still, save for the occasional crackling from the fireplace. A gentle knock at the door startled him, but the sound was so faint it could have been the house settling.
"Come i-, wait what's this voice?!" Demond's heart pounded as his voice, used to the hoarse tone of his age, resonated with a youthful vigor with a touch of cuteness, not unlike the…the female protagonists in his collection.
As Demond approached the door, his legs felt stronger and more nimble than they had in years. He reached for the handle with a heart beating like a drum in his chest, and swung the door open to reveal a sight that would have been impossible mere moments ago. Standing before him was a young woman, her skin glowing with the same golden hue as Adrei's scales, her eyes filled with the same fiery passion. She was clad in robes of an emperor's finest silk, woven with threads of pure gold.
"Adrei?!" Demond gasped, taking a step back in astonishment. The dragon before him had transformed into a creature of unparalleled beauty, yet the fiery intensity of her gaze remained unchanged, and more importantly, her mana indistinguishable from the eyes of the old…well, former old mage.
"This… this isn't right. No maybe I'm dreaming, am I having a flash before death moment? What…" Demond's voice trailed off as he took in Adrei's new form.
"It seems your vigor still remains, even when your form has changed." The golden dragon, now a woman, spoke with a warmth that made the chilly morning air seem trivial. She offered a hand to help him steady himself. "Be grateful, Demond, your life is not lost but transformed. I have granted you a chance to experience this newfound peace in a way you never thought possible."
"…d-don't tell me…" Demond smiled wryly, as her gaze trailed downward. There were two things…two small pillows, where his beard once was, his, or now, her robe clung to her new form in ways she had never felt before.
"I can't believe it…" Ignoring Adrei's stretched palm, the former old mage curled up in her newly found hands to feel the smoothness of her cheeks, the softness of her skin. It felt so real, yet so surreal.
"This old man's dignity is in shambles…" Demond murmured to himself, blushing like a schoolboy caught peeking. Adrei chuckled, her fiery eyes twinkling with amusement. She retracted her hand gracefully and gave him the space to fully process his transformation.
Ah, but first. The dragon took from something hidden in her robes and handed it out. "Need a smoke?"
Demond's eyes widened, recognizing the familiar pack of ciggies. He took one with trembling fingers, the paper feeling so strange against his now youthful skin. "How...how did you even get these?"
"A dragon's ways are mysterious, aren't they?" Adrei smirked, a hint of mischief playing on her lips as she offered a flame from her fingertip.
"So mysterious they find a disgusting hobby to turn a poor sob of an old man into a little girl." Demond rolled her eyes, as he took the cigarette and placed it between her lips, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. It was absurd to become a dojin-like character, yet here he was.
"I would say it's more of a side effect of the 'manga' you brought unto the Dragon Council, Demond." Adrei lit the cigarette with a flame of her finger, a small flame dancing before her. She watched as the smoke curled around them, the scent of burnt tobacco blending with the lingering scent of her fiery breath from moments ago.
"You don't say…" Demond took a deep drag, the smoke filling her lungs with a comforting warmth. "So, why me? Why change me like this?" He took in the sight of his youthful hands, the veins less pronounced and the skin smoother than he remembered.
Adrei's smile grew. "If I tell you this is our punishment in hell, will you believe it?"
Demond chuckled, her eyes narrowing at the playful dragon in human form. "I've seen enough of your kind to know that's a load of dragon dungs. So, what's the real reason?" He took a second drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the roof like a silent question.
"How rude, I'm speaking the truth, you know?" Adrei's eyes gleamed with a playful glint. "The official statement, Demond, is that the Council believes that your current witch form will serve…nicely for the rash judgement you took for our tyrant. Perverted minds that they are, their valuable insight into the witchcrafts is selectively…well, limited."
"And thus I lost something precious forever and ever…great." Demond took another puff, her voice laced with sarcasm. The cigarette felt peculiar between her lips, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once been her beard.
"This old man never was an achievement hunter, but what about adding 'the extinct of beards and dragons' to the list, huh, Adrei?" Demond took another drag, her resentment for the Council's decision growing with each puff.
"If I offer my body as a compensation, will you accept it?" Adrei spoke with a seriousness that was surprisingly genuine, her fiery eyes looking into Demond's soul.
"G-geez…what's with young woman offering their bodies these days?" Demond sputtered, the cigarette dropping from his mouth in surprise. He hastily picked it up and took a few steps back, suddenly aware of their newfound closeness. "I might be in a new body, but I'm still the same grumpy old man inside!"
Adrei's laugh echoed through the hut, the sound rich and melodious, a stark contrast to the fiery breath that had once filled the space. She stepped closer, her hand gently cupping her cheek. "I meant nothing of the sort, Demond. However, I must confess it is not our choice now, as we are bonded with a marriage by the Council."
"…marriage?"
"Marriage indeed."
"…right, marriage…" Demond mumbled, before her eyes widened, her cigarette dropping again. "Ha?! Marriage?!"
Adrei nodded solemnly, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she tried to suppress a smile. "Another dealings by the Council. Our kin's pride was not easily appeased, so we have this ultimate…humiliation for you, to live as a witch, along with another ultimate…bond for me, to live as my wife in human form."
"Hu-mi-li-a-tion? This?!" The former old mage groped her own 'pillows', and her cheeks burned hotter than Adrei's fiery breath ever could. "Don't tell we have to do this and…that and…this…"
"Yes. In case you were wondering, we have to mate." Adrei spoke the words so matter-of-factly that Demond couldn't help but burst out laughing. The absurdity of it all was just too much. The idea of this mighty golden dragon, now a stunningly beautiful woman, asking to be her…husband was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard.
But as the laughter died down, the reality began to sink in. Let's treat this as a manga ending, and take a closer look…from every perspectives, is this not to this old man's favor? The ideas of being young again and not being chased by dragons, marrying a dragon who just flamed you to death is a small price to pay. And…
Taking a glance at the dragon's large claw, now playing with her round cheeks, Demond felt a peculiar…excitement spread through her new, younger body. "I must say…I'm not against marrying you, but what about…well, you?"
"Oh? I'm quite alright with marrying my savior though?" Adrei's gaze searched her eyes, the warmth from her touch still lingering on his skin. Her smile was gentle, yet the fierce dragon beneath was undeniable. "Of course, it would be me at the top and you with my name, as is the dragon's way."
"Grr…my male spirit…urgh…" Demond muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration at the thought of taking a wife's role in this bizarre union. "And I hate that I don't dislike this…at least those geezers found a way to unite our kinds somehow."
Adrei nodded, her eyes sparkling with a hint of seductiveness as she leaned in. "Are you sure you're not excited instead, my love?"
Demond's heart skipped a beat. The way Adrei spoke, the way she looked at her, it was all so foreign and yet eerily familiar. "Excited? Ha! I would be lucky if your flames didn't burn my p**** during s**!" He tried to keep his voice firm, but the tremble betrayed his nerves.
Adrei leaned back, her laughter filling the room with a warmth that seemed to chase the last of the cold away. "Don't worry, my dear. I promise to be gentle. It would be a great feat of…adjustment for you body to be my shape."
"H-h-hold it, I'm still, like I said again, an old man, you know!" Demond stuttered, taking another step back as she covered her 'assets'. The thought of the fiery dragon being gentle in such an intimate way was a bit too much for his still male mind to handle. "I'm not against marrying you! But that…let's leave that 'mate' thing for later, yeah?"
Adrei chuckled, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "As you wish, my love. But know that those old perverts' decisions are now irreversible. Not even disguise magic would change your essence."
Demond took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the Council's decision settle on her. "Fine, marriage it is. But first…"
She weaved a spell in the air, before a drawing of an mini ice castle appeared in the room. "Interested in a banquet, my poorly consented husband?"
Adrei's eyes lit up at the sight of the ice castle, the frosty grandeur a stark contrast to the warm timber hut. She stepped closer to the magical construct, her fingers brushing against the frozen turrets with a sense of wonder. "The Peace Banquet…is it? For the Demon King's exile? A clever way to announce our newfound marriage, I presumed?"
"Spare me your politics, I just want to visit my brat." The witch rolled her eyes. "Marriage aside, I need to tell her about what happened, and make sure she's okay with her old man being a young lady now."
"And her old man having a newly-wed husband as a dragon?" Adrei raised an eyebrow, her smile never leaving her lips, as her fingertip played with the ice castle.
"…another smoke please." Demond held out her hand, her mind racing with thoughts of her daughter and how she'd react to the news.
"As you wish." Adrei produced another cigarette, lighting it for Demond with a flick of her finger. The set of actions were so natural they would have been mistaken as a dance of lovers, if not for the awkwardness in the air.
—————
"This old man…really had nothing left…" Demond sobbed, as she looked around her restored old hut. The dragon's runes crammed the wooden walls, ground and ceiling, creating a dizzying array of magic that she recognised as 'time magic' for reversing the damage for their confrontation.
Yet her old pile of robes were…not here. The hut had been restored, but it was eerily empty of any personal belongings. Adrei watched him with a knowing look, her human form still smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "I believe your daughter's room will provide the necessary attire. After all, you are now closer to her size than your former self."
"Do you believe that there would be anything remaining after your Dragon Stinky Breath of the Year?" Demond retorted, though the hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. He knew he had to get dressed before facing Alice. The thought of her reaction was both exhilarating and terrifying.
"Well…there is still an option…" The witch's brows furrowed, as she uttered a magic incantation and a gust of wind swept through the room. A moment later, a set of clothes floated from somewhere in the hut, landing neatly in front of her. The garments were not his old mage robes, but rather something more... elegant, something that screamed of a royal court.
The dragon watched with a wry smile as she glanced at the… 'showy' outfit. "Old man, I always knew your mind was made of kinky stuff, but I never knew you had a thing for-"
"S-shut it! This is only a habit of collecting costumes from my old times!" Demond snatched the outfit from the air with a huff, feeling his cheeks burn even brighter than the dragon's flames. "Besides, try living in the middle of the woods with no TVs, wifis or a Sw*tch! This habit of mine is the least of your worries!"
She looked down at the elegant outfit in front of her, the fabric shimmering with an ethereal glow that the old man casted to protect the silk, even with his dying breath. It was definitely not something she would have chosen for herself, but under the circumstances, she had little say in the matter.
After telling the dragon not to look and dressing herself in the restroom, the witch examined herself in the mirror. The outfit was a royal robe, a deep shade of blue with intricate gold stitching along the edges. It was definitely not something she would have picked for herself, but it fit her new form surprisingly well. The fabric felt like liquid silk against her skin, and the way it clung to her curves made her feel... not entirely uncomfortable.
Yet there is still something…missing. No, not under there, but just…something that didn't quite fit the picture of this new identity that was thrust upon him. Demond looked around the restroom before sighing, hesitating for the fashion show-off to her…'husband'.
"I'm ready, Adrei. Let's go." Demond announced, as she emerged from her restroom, her voice still filled with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. He had chosen to keep his straight hair short, or tried to before the hair regenerated hack to her shoulders. A witch's body had its perks, he mused, but this was definitely inconvenient.
"You look quite... regal, in a peculiar way," Adrei commented, her dragon-like eyes gleaming with amusement. "The robe suits you, even if it is a bit flashy for a simple mage such as yourself."
"One more word and I will grind you to the coffee dust you sponsored, Adrei." Demond grinned, despite her words, as she stepped out of the restroom. The robe was definitely not her style, but the comfort was surprisingly pleasant. She felt a bit like a fish out of water, albeit with the sacrifce of soemthing in between her legs.
——————
As they left the home that had seen so much change, the sunset painted the sky in a canvas of warm oranges and fiery reds, mirroring Adrei's dragon form. The air was crisp with the promise of a cool evening as they took one last look at the old hut's room. It had been a symbol of hiding from the old mage's past and fears, now transformed into a monument of her rebirth.
Memories of her daughter's face filled Demond's mind as she stepped outside her hut, the afternoon glow kissing her new skin with a gentle warmth. As she decended the stairs with the Dragon in tow, she glanced at the Dragon, now in her human form. "Adrei, why the change of heart? Why me? And why like this?"
The golden-haired woman looked at her, her fiery eyes meeting Demond's gaze with a solemnity that seemed out of place amidst the whimsy of the transformation. "It's a simple matter. You saved me from my Father's violence, saved my kin from my Father's tyranny. And in doing so, you showed that the humans are to be feared, not despised with weaknesses. You have opened the door to the respect our arrogant kins would never have given freely. Now, the council sees a potential ally in you, a bridge that could lead to peace and prosperity for both our species."
Smirking, Adrei concluded. "And as a bride of mine, I am personally vouching for your worthiness. It's quite the honor, really."
"Pervert Dragon…" Demond mumbled under her breath as she followed Adrei out into the clearing, the setting sun casting long shadows over the once battle-torn earth. The forest had begun to heal, a testament to the power of time and the end of the conflict that had ravaged the land. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant chirping of birds returning to their nests.
Demond stopped at his feet, as she looked back to her old hut one last time. "Adrei, how do you…really feel about me? Don't tell you really were charmed by those old wrinkles of mine?"
She imagined her old self blinking in one eye with an idol pose, before shuttering in disgust. "Alright maybe not, absolutely not, but…" Demond swallowed, her voice trailing off as she tried to find the right words.
"But if our relationship can be concluded with 'love', I dare say instead, it is the bond of two beings who have seen the darkest hours of the forgotten history," Adrei spoke with a surprising vulnerability, her fiery eyes meeting Demond's with a softness that seemed to melt the tension in the air. "The old times were of war, but now we have a chance to write a new chapter. One of peace, friendship, and perhaps something more. If that is what you wish to call it, love is as good as any other word, but a 'new beginning' is more accurate."
"A new beginning…" the former old mage muttered, as she blinked when Adrei summoned a mini-portal, before pulling out something wooden from it.
"Memories were not forgotten or abandoned in the blink of a transformation, nor could it be scorched clean by a dragon's whimsical decision." The dragon's palm, now holding a familiar staff, offered it to Demond. "But it remains our responsibilities, as leaders for our people, to set forth with the courage to embrace change. Not merely change for them, but change for our hearts too, I suppose."
The witch took the staff, her tiny hand now feeling the weight of the wood that once seemed…heavier than she expected. Her old friend, her companion through countless battles, felt almost alien in her grasp. Yet as she touched the wood that pulsed with the same energy she remembered, she felt a surge of mana and comfort that was unmistakably hers.
She chuckled. Right, she knew what was missing now.
"Adrei. You knew of a spell to weave clothes into being, didn't you?" Demond asked, her cheeks flushing a tint of red as she held the elegant robe in front of herself. The dragon just smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
As the former old mage responded with a grin, Adrei could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. "Indeed, I do know such spells, but I thought it would be a more... enlightening experience for you to embrace your new form first."
"Not that. I was thinking since I'm a witch now," she pointed atop her long hair. "There is no way I'm going to a royal banquet without a large, large hat to hide these."
Adrei chuckled, a sound that seemed to warm the air around them. "Ah, that vanity of yours. But I do see your point."
With a wave of her hand, she conjured a blue, wide-brimmed hat that matched the royal blue of the robe. The hat, adorned with golden strips panned the color of the Dragon Queen's scales, was now at Adrei's hand. The witch blushed as Adrei, adorned with a warm smile, placed the hat on her head with a gentle touch. The dragon had always been surprisingly kind, especially after their fiery encounters. The large hat now covered her long locks. It was a perfect blend of elegance and practicality, something she never knew she needed.
She touched the soft silk of her new attire and felt a strange comfort. It was not the armor of a warrior, but the garb of a diplomat, a symbol of peace she now had to embody. And then, her hand touched Adrei's on her hat, the scales of her palm now a warm, human skin. The dragon looked at her, her smile genuine for her likings. It was a gesture that transcended their species, a silent promise of camaraderie.
"Alright then…" Demond sighed, releasing the dragon's hand and pulling up her hat atop her head with her fingers. The feather fluttered in the breeze, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise solemn scene. "Let's go. I suppose we have a banquet to crash."
"A banquet to crash?" Adrei's laughter echoed through the clearing, a sound that was surprisingly delightful to Demond's new, more sensitive ears. "You tell of a historical event like it is a casual affair."
"Oh shut it, they should be honoured this old man is even showing his face!" Demond shot back with a playful scowl, though the excitement in her voice was undeniable. The prospect of seeing Alice again, after so much time and so much change, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
And with that, the journey of the Dragon Queen, alongside her witch bride, began, as they walked towards the horizon, leaving behind the solitary hut and the remnants of the old mage's life. The pixies around the treetops giggled their secrets to the wind as the unlikely couple passed, the forest alive with curiosity and a hint of fear at the presence of the great beast. But Adrei's steps were light, and her eyes never left Demond's new form.