The Devil's Cursed Witch

Inside the Spirit Shrine, Evanthe spent several hours infusing the dome-shaped stone chamber with her divine energy, a force far more potent than any other witch could muster. Once her task was complete, she floated gently to the ground and called out to her apprentice.

"Cornelia, you can stop now."

Seemingly lost in her own world, Cornelia did not respond; it was as though she had shut herself off from any external interruptions.

Evanthe's brow furrowed at the sight of this obstinate witch. Using her formidable powers, she severed Cornelia's connection to the spirit shrine, halting the flow of her essence meant to safeguard Morpheus' soul.

Startled, Cornelia opened her eyes, her expression one of clear displeasure.

"Who dared..." Her protest died in her throat the moment she recognized the overwhelming presence of that familiar, potent divine energy—energy that could only belong to one person. She swiftly turned, her eyes searching, and there she was—her master, her guardian, the figure she revered above all others.

"Your Eminence," Cornelia whispered in a frail voice as she slowly descended to the floor, kneeling before the woman she admired.

Evanthe regarded her with a look of disapproval, noting how Cornelia seemed to cling to the last shreds of her strength.

"You have disappointed me, Cornelia," Evanthe said, her voice icy.

Cornelia kept her head bowed, fully aware of the reason behind the Queen of Witches' disapproval. "Apologies, Master, but—"

"You need to return to your residence and rest. I won't waste my time reasoning with someone who has lost her reasons and sense of responsibility," Evanthe cut her off sharply.

Unable to argue, Cornelia simply nodded. She stood, facing Evanthe with resolve. "I will accept whatever punishment Your Eminence deems fit for me," she said, then glanced at Morpheus' lifeless body. "Now that Your Eminence is here, I believe he will return to us soon."

"I have filled the Spirit Shrine with my power which will last for a few days and will nourish his soul. We don't have to stay here," Eventhe informed, "Let's head out."

With a final glance at Morpheus, Evanthe turned and headed for the door, Cornelia trailing behind her. Outside, Silvia and Thalia were visibly relieved to see Cornelia after several anxious weeks. They had feared she might be harmed while healing the Commander's soul.

"Take Cornelia to her residence and ensure she rests," Evanthe commanded, handing over a small vial. "Give this potion to her."

"Yes, Your Eminence," the two witches replied and disappeared from there along with Cornelia.

Evanthe then rejoined Draven and Sierra, who were waiting for her.

"How is he?" Draven inquired immediately.

"I have just exhausted a significant portion of my strength to aid our friend, and that on top of the exhaustion from my long journey to Agartha," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Might I not at least expect the hospitality of your kingdom and have a nice rest to recover my strength, King Draven?"

"My apologies," he said with a quick nod. "Let's return to the palace first."

In an instant, the trio vanished, reappearing in the grand foyer of the palace.

"Erlos," Draven called out.

At his call, a silver-haired young elf dashed into the foyer at a speed of wind, appearing a fraction of second on his master's call, "Yes, Sire?" But his words trailed off as he recognized the distinguished visitor. "Your Eminence?" He bowed deeply, a gesture of profound respect.

Evanthe, with a gentle smile, observed the young elf. "Erlos, you do have good memory unlike your master who remember absolutely nothing about himself." Her tone light yet teasing, as she directed a playful smirk towards Draven, who responded with his usual stoic silence.

Erlos kept his head bowed, a sign of respect. "It's good to see you back, Your Eminence."

"Indeed, it's heartening to see you've grown into such a well-mannered young elf. I'm glad you haven't adopted any of your master's more... challenging traits, such as his arrogance or imperious demeanor."

"I have strived to follow the right path, Your Eminence," Erlos replied, blatantly ignoring Draven's presence. "I've always remembered your teachings from the past, which helped me avoid adopting the unpleasant traits of one's character."

"Apparently, her teaching from the past has also taught you on how to run your mouth uselessly and talk endlessly without point," Draven interjected, his gaze sharp as he glanced at his servant, who seemed too intent on currying favor with others.

Erlos fell silent, chastened by his master's tone, while Evanthe chuckled. "That, we call being sociable and adept in communication—unlike someone, who might as well be mute. I sometimes wonder if you even speak to your mate, or if she has to play the game of guessing what's on your mind. Tsk! Poor thing."

"You needn't worry about her," Draven responded, his voice icy.

"Aren't you tired, Evanthe? If not, we can continue with the work what we are here for," Sierra chimed in, knowing full well Evanthe's penchant for stirring trouble with her words.

Evanthe exhaled slowly and stretched languidly. "Actually, I do need to rest. My body aches from the journey."

"Allow me to show you to your rooms, Your Eminence," Erlos offered, eager to facilitate a retreat from the tense atmosphere.

"See you later, Draven," Evanthe said with a soft smile band winked at him, then followed Erlos as he led the way, leaving a slightly cooler air behind them.

Draven shook his head with a resigned sigh and walked away.

He returned to the study just as Ember, who had been spending her time in the garden, arrived.

"I heard there are guests in the palace?" Ember inquired as she approached him.

Watching her cross the room, with her servants lingering outside the study, he confirmed, "You heard right." He extended his hand towards her. "Come here."

Instead of stopping across the table, Ember walked around to his side and took his offered hand.

With a gentle tug, Draven pulled her onto his lap. Ember, unfazed, made herself comfortable and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Who are they?" she asked curiously.

"Evanthe and her friend," he replied.

"The Queen of Witches?" Ember's eyes widened in excitement. "Mother of a red dragon?"

"That's her," Draven affirmed with a nod.

"She can heal Morph, right?" Ember's voice was hopeful. "I've heard she's incredibly powerful."

"You are right," he confirmed. "She's powerful and a bit childish. Don't mind her playful jabs."

Ember chuckled, "Are you worried I might get upset? From what I've heard from the other witches, she seems like a fun person."

Draven said no more and simply held her closer, his red eyes observing her beautiful face, "You seem to be fine. Seems like you are adept in bearing with me now."

A light blush tinted her cheeks. "You're becoming shameless. You weren't like this before."

"Don't you like it?" he teased, a playful smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

"Stop teasing," she shot back with a glare, "We have guests. I can't wait to meet them."

"You will meet them soon."

By this time the news of Evanthe's retuned had spread not only in the witch clan but the entire kingdom.

The witch clan was ready to welcome their queen and other races cheered as well, expecting something good to happen as the one of the most powerful supernatural of their kingdom had finally retuned.

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