The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today-Chapter 17: Legacy (4)

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Flashback...

A caskets of flames, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the battle-scarred landscape. The once-mighty dragon lay defeated, their corpse a stark contrast to the fiery sky. Demond and the wolf stood before the Tyrant's castle, the wolf's torso burnt beyond recognition.

It is then the wolf realised, they have indeed defeated a king, if only not for the cost of everything that once defined them.

The dawn, however, a silent ray of hope and rebirth, as it was casted upon an infant among the dragon's corpse. Ever the innocent, the child was untouched by the fiery wrath that had ravaged the land. It was as if fate had shielded the newborn from the carnage. Demond picked up the child, his weary smile hinting at a newfound purpose. 

"Master."

"...ah, Leona."

"...who is this child you carry?"

Her master chuckled, the ashes from the cigarette in her mouth whizzed out. Admist the forest that smelled of tars, flesh and burnt trees, the sound was surprisingly warm. "A child from a friend. I am to watch over her, as a promise to someone I once knew."

"And so, you and our companions remained here..." the wolf's tired grunt was a question, a silent doubt of the burden her master had shouldered for her sake. She gazed at the black dragon's corpse beside them, charred and iced and torn by countless others before them, by the companions who went before them, by her and her master who remained the only ones standing.

"Yes...yes...I suppose." The youthful voice from her master could no longer bear the weight of his world crashing before his eyes. He lost everything, his companions, his pride, his home, and even his spirit wolf, injured beyond saving. Yet, the child remained, a spark of hope in his eyes, one that would paint a tale that would inspire generations, not to repeat the weakness that led to this tragedy.

"I'm sorry, Leona. I'm so, so sorry."

The master uttered, as his gaze lingered on ashen torso from her. The wolf bowed her head as her mind lingered to the brutal triumph, her pride stained by the fear against the Tyrant Dragon, her instinct to escape sprouted by the concern for her master's life, and her guilt to allow her companions' deaths tainted by the excuses from her wounded ego. Yet, she knew better than not listening to the order from her master, her final order, her final declaration.

"I'm afraid I no longer have the strength to fight, Leona."

The solemn silence grew heavier as Leona gazed upon her master's weary eyes. The weight of his burden was something she had never felt before, not even in the darkest moments of their battles. The child, a small bundle wrapped in warm fur, peeked out at the wolf, her curiosity shining through the shadows of the grim scene.

"But our vows...our prides would not end here."

With a cheeky smile, her master's fingertip brushed the child's cheek, leaving a small spark of mana that shimmered in the cold air. Leona furrowed with a strange warmth spread through her, a warmth that didn't come from the fire of battle, but from the relieving touch of her master's magic.

"I will raise this child. Her legacy will be ours to celebrate, and the peace she will bring to this land will be our vengeance, our victory, and our redemption. Let us wait, Leona, until the era of peace dawned upon us again. And when it does, I want her to know of our adventures, our sacrifices, our arrogances that brought us till this day."

Without a word, the wolf nodded, her pride will be carried forward, by not her master or her, but the child of hope. The child looked up at the wolf with eyes that shone with a curiosity that could melt the coldest ice, a curiosity that would seemed to view the world through an otherworldly lens, a world that seemed to only view peace around her, in contrast to the scorched lands outside.

For a child destined to stumble into a world of ash and magic—a child who would bring the era of peace they had longed for and carry forward a legacy marked by somber endings-Leona the Wolf Queen named her Alice. She would become the protagonist of a tale unwritten by the scars of history, a living continuation of their prideful ways of life.

—————

Present

There was no dawn that arrived upon the throne room of ice, now destroyed with walls of water and ice crumbling, the blue moon's light piercing through the ruins. The dragon queen now gazed at the witch, kneeling before her companion, her spirit, her last comrade of same will. The former old mage's eyes, once filled with confident passion of tomorrow, were now pools of a silent apology.

Yet the former old mage's youthful visage remained stoic, belying the turmoil within. Her calmness was a façade that had been meticulously crafted over defades, a shield against the tempests of regret and doubt. Not able to find words of comfort, she merely muttered whatever first came to her mind.

"...Alice suceeded, didn't she?"

"...indeed, my master."

The response from the old wolf brought a flicker of relief to the witch's eyes. The child, Alice, was the key to suceeding the legacy she had devoted her life to. A smile was brought to her lips, despite the gravity of the wolf's final moment.

The throne room grew quiet as the weight of their shared story hung in the air. Demond, lying before her summon, whispered a spell, her eyes glowing with the power of the mana she had poured into the wounded Leona, easing the pain and mending the charred fur and shattered bones. The wolf's breath grew steadier, the light in her eyes no longer dimmed by the pain of battle, but by the sorrow of a bond that would soon come to an end.

Her master didn't falter, as she chanted another spell of wind, the door to the throne room swung open, revealing a pack of pubs Leona has been hearing from outside, their faces filled with hope, their eyes gleaming with the promise of a future without fear.

And yet, all of them...all of their furs have glitters that sprinkling out of their bodies, their mana dissipating as they grew weaker and weaker, a silent cry of 'death', a silent goodbye. Yet return is considered an honour to their queen, just as it is to the pubs. Admist the shaded throne room, moonlight shone through the cracked ceiling, casting a serene glow upon the exhausted wolf. The wolf packs began to gather around their fallen kin, their hopeful howls echoing, as if they were singing a melody of heroes.

The witch nodded as she stood, the staff in her hand pulsing with a gentle light that matched her expression. She stepped closer to the wolf, her eyes filled with understanding.

"Leona. Do you remember the first time you raged against me?" Demond's voice was soft, a pang of pain and nostalgia in her words. The wolf's gaze flickered up to meet hers, the blue of her eyes reflecting the flaming light of the room.

"I told of you, not to sob like a baby when a companion dies." Leona's voice was a gruff whisper, a hint of amusement in the pain. "It was a dishonour to their valors, their sacrifices were built not for tears shed, but for the ales and laughters that we live to tell of their tales in the taverns we will never visit again."

The witch took a deep breath, as she chuckled, remembering her embarrasing performance in the bathroom. "I'm afraid I betrayed that expectations again, Leona. That's right...I wept like an infant, and that's from an old man my age."

"It shows even with age, your naivety and fragility remain a folly for the heats of battles, Demond." Leona's voice was a rumble, a gentle admonishment that seemed to soothe the witch's spirit. "But it is a folly that I have grown to appreciate, a folly that made you the master you are today, and Alice the hero she has become."

A silence fell between them, the echo of their words hanging in the air, the crackle of the dying fire the only sound in the room. The dragon queen watched the wolf with a look of solemn contemplation, her fiery gaze turning to the wolf packs who similarly watched their queen, their dying spirits lifted by the power of hope that flowed from her.

Demond patted the wolf, her hand trembling with the effort of maintaining her spell. The tears were kept at bay, but her eyes shone with the same care that had burned in Alice's eyes all those years ago. A care that grew only in their direst moments, in their last hour. She knew her words will not be the final, and the wolf will return to her anew. Yet a tinge of hesitation remained, a dreadful temptation of doubts that she had done enough to keep the promise she had made to her dearest companion.

And so, selfishly, she uttered her mind, her voice trembling with the weight of her answer. "That folly...is something I prayed once I did not have. Regrets are laughable humiliation, a human nature that Alice would scoff at. That child accomplished what this weak, old man couldn't, after the defeat of the Tyrant, and long after the start of our vows."

But a resolve grew within Demond's gaze, her eyes clearing of the sadness as she looked down at her companion. "But she did not just live to fulfill our vows. She lived to surpass us, to become something greater than we could have imagined. It is a proof that our journey wasn't a waste, our prides weren't shackles but stepping stones to a grander destiny that she has forged for herself."

Then, with a knowing, pained smile, Demond raised her staff, the sprinkled manas of the wolves gathering around the tip, each closing their eyes as their existence returned to the spirit realm, awaiting their queen's arrival. One by one, their blueish spirits danced upwards, the room growing emptier as their presence left the material plane.

"So, 'Leona'. Rest well."

And with that, Demond slammed her staff to the ground, the sprinkling mana from the wolves hastened, their howls of honour and pain faded into the night. The room grew colder, the flame of the dragon's spirit dwindling. The summon's gaze never left her master's, her eyes reflecting the warmth that had once been her own icy mana.

As the blueish dance in the air continued, Leona's fur was growing transparent, the blue mana seeping away from her body, as the wolf's eyes grew distant. Her breath grew shallow, and the witch could feel the power of the bond between them, the bond that had lasted eigjty years, weaken with each passing second. The dragon queen closed her eyes in respect, for the wolf queen who had fought her, who had become a part of her story, who had carried her legacy into a new era of peace.

Demond's heavy heart felt a strange lightness, as she raised her arm in a fist. The wolf, the summon, the companion knew of this gesture, it is a gesture of respect, of farewell, of the end of a long journey. Her eyes were now the color of the purest ice, no more anger, no more regret, no more pride, just a silent whisper of acceptance that this was the end of their tale together.

As if gathering everything in one last breath, Leona's body grew still, as her tired claw reached out to the fist, a silent reply of understanding, a final nod to the journey that had been. The blue mana that had once been her essence danced around the room, twirling in the air along with the pubs' spirits, as the sombering words of the master flowed one last time.

"Till we meet again, partner."

The words were a whisper, a promise that hung in the air as her eye closed for the final hour, a promise for another journey, another tale untold, another legacy of prides and strides, of love and loss, of battles and triumphs. The wolf's spirit dissipated, leaving a soft echo of the howl, her last thoughts reaching out to the child she once vowed to follow, as the last of her mana raised to the air. The room was left with the blue tints of the mana uniting together, before one among them grew brighter than the rest, a small spark of the prideful queen that had once stood before the dragon queen.

And when that final spark dissipated, the room grew silent. No longer was there the crackling of the dying fire or the cackling of frost. Only the gentle patter of ice crystals falling from the ceiling filled the air, as the dragon queen and the witch were left alone in the moonlit throne room. Adrei took a deep breath, feeling a strange emptiness where the fiery battle had once raged. She looked down at the wolf's lifeless body, now a mere shell of the fierce spirit it had contained.

Demond knelt beside Leona, her hand on the wolf's head, her eyes filled with a quiet mourning. The peace has come and their promise is fulfilled, it is only that they could not witness it together. But she knew, deep in her heart, that despite their forgotten marks in history, the prideful wolf accepted her fate with honor, without regrets.

And she alone would remain. Until the spirited wolf's vessel was fixed by the spirit king, she would watch over the peace Alice had created—a testament to their long-lasting pride. The moonfall of the night mirrored the vows of the two kindred souls, casting a silver glow upon the throne. It stood as a silent sentinel to the battles that had been, the peace that was to come, and the farewell of her last companion.