Chapter 3
In the furthest corners of the world lies the resting place of the end.
The place that is untouched and should remain untouched ruled by those who dictate the end.
At the highest peak of the northern range, lifeless winds cut across the snow. With a violent shudder, space cracks open.
A Hex Gate tears open against the frozen sky of the northern peaks.
Through the void steps the Witch of the Dark Night. High above her, piercing the suffocating shadows, burn the glowing eyes of a World Ender.
"What brings you here, Witch of Dark Night?"
The voice growls as it covers the atmosphere devoid of any life. She drops to her knees in the snow, bowing her head in absolute reverence to an entity whose name even dragons whisper with terror.
"I greet your Lunar Grace, Fenrin."
"Speak your purpose. My patience is not infinite."
With trembling hands, she reaches into her robes and produces the cracked remnant of the essence stone.
"Hmm... one of those," Fenrin rumbles, the air heavy with ancient weight. "Are you here to claim a prize after culling the seed? You know well that even as seeds, they remain my kin."
"No, I—"
"Silence!"
The roar triggers an avalanche across distant crags, the sound echoing for miles.
"Your reward is your life. Begone!"
"Please hear me, O Great Fenrin!"
"You dare push your luck? Or have you lost your accursed meaning and come to meet your end?"
“I—”
Silence took over before words were spoken.
No spell is cast. No physical move is made. Yet in a heartbeat, the Witch’s left arm is torn violently from her shoulder, spraying hot crimson across the pristine snow.
She chokes back a scream, her body trembling as she forces herself not to fall forward into her own blood.
The creature’s colossal jaws lunge, stopping inches from her face.
"Tell me," Fenrin sneers, his hot, metallic breath washing over her mangled shoulder. "And if you fail to pique my interest, not even the Mother of Witches will save you from my maw."
The Witch doesn't speak. Pain radiates through every nerve, but her gaze remains fixed on the beast.
Slowly—deliberately—she slides her remaining hand beneath her heavy cloak.
She doesn't reach for a weapon. She doesn't reach for a spell component. Instead, with agonising care, she tucks her bleeding shoulder back to keep the crimson stream from dripping downward, shielding what lies beneath it.
With her single hand, she parts the thick fabric.
Curled tightly against her chest, wrapped in the warmth of her inner robes and utterly undisturbed by the creature's roar, is a sleeping infant.
She has lost an arm in a fraction of a second, yet not a single drop of her blood has been allowed to touch the child.
Holding the baby close to her heart, her breath ragged and her voice tight with agony, she looks up into the eyes of the World Ender.
"This... is why I came, O Great One."
Fenrin looks down at the child, the crimson glow in his massive eyes flickering before he lets out a heavy, breathy sigh.
Slowly, the towering mountain of fur and shadow begins to collapse in on itself, shifting and reshaping in the gloom. The monstrous wolf recedes, replaced by a tall man with long, snow-white hair that cascades over his shoulders like moonlight.
“What a fine way to play your card." A foreboding smirk pulls at his lips—promising a disturbance to the very order of the world.
"I don't—." Before she even gets to finish, Fenrin interrupts her, cutting her off before she can speak further.
"Just tell me what you want."
Her face is cold with the fear of Fenrin’s presence.
Fenrin's eyes wander as he glances at the child. "A hatchling of witches."
Should I finish both of them here? Fenrin's thoughts wander as he waits for the witch to start.
To lay a hostile hand on their young is to invoke an ancient, absolute blood feud.
Fenrin looks at the trembling witch that is preparing herself to speak further…
Killing that sly thing will be no effort, but she now has grounds to be here—and a child, on top of that.
To harm a child is to invite a war of extermination—
This will only end when the offender is wiped from the face of the world or the entire race is reduced to ash trying.
In that way, they are quite similar to those flying lizards.
"Is this your child, Witch of the Dark Night?"
Fenrin’s voice is much lighter now, as if he has lifted the suffocating pressure from the atmosphere with a single breath.
"No, your Lunar Grace," she replies, holding the baby close with her remaining arm. "It is a turn of events... I have no idea how this happened."
"Hmm." Fenrin steps forward and brushes his fingers against her severed shoulder. As he grabs the torn shoulder and stretches, flesh and bone knit together, her lost arm slowly regrows.
The Witch's sound of agony crosses her body but never leaves her mouth.
"Tell me. I am all ears."
The Witch stares at him, finding it almost impossible to believe how such a creature even exists, showing such cruelty in the act of kindness.
Info:
(Hex gate == Teleportation gate)
(I got the story, but the titles are hard to come to mind as it is still in the starting part.)
(Next week 2 chapter at once {no condition})