Midday the following day found Phoebe knelt beside a shallow grave, tears in her eyes. She’d meant to make it a proper grave. He might have lashed out blindly, but Elion was still… Someone. A person. He deserved to be remembered for the way he’d lived, not how he died.
He’d let his desire to save the world make him into a monster, but he’d paid the price for it. She wanted to remember the strange elf singing away, strumming his instrument with enough gusto that even a dragon felt the need to join in.
A dragon who had abandoned them, and hadn’t come back.
“Fuck magic.” Phoebe sniffled, cursing out the new world, before she stood up and wiped at her eyes. Trying to smile as if she was fine to the patiently waiting orc.
Gruna strode over to the grave, spun her axe in hand before planting the head into the dirt by the grave with a ground shaking thunk. She lifted one hand into the sky, and spoke with a lowered voice.
> “Honour and glory!”
> “May you accept this fallen foe into your deadly embrace,”
> “Until I may meet them again, in the field of your eternal war.”
> “I offer this prayer in their honour,”
> “For even in death, we are all children of the earth,”
> “And may they find eternal glory in your halls of rage.”
> “To you, I devote my wrath,”
> “Glory to Go’ruuk!”
With that, Gruna brought her other hand down, and the hair on the back of Phoebe’s neck stood on end as the entire forest went immediately silent. There was no wind, no creaking trees. Even the trickling of the nearby creeks seemed to flee before the orc.
The woman hefted her axe, spun it twice and then it was on her back again. Gruna smiled sadly at her, and brushed her cheek with one finger, “The pain remains. This is a reminder, of the truth that you are the one who lives. It hurts, but there is still a gift in this. You are compelled to live a life worthy of the one that you witnessed to be lost.”
Phoebe knew that Gruna was trying to be sympathetic, but the only thing that little speech gave her was a crippling sense of guilt.
The two of them resumed walked through the forest. Gruna seemed to easily fall in, as if she was still following the path set by Drektanion, even though he’d up and disappeared. Ghost ran ahead of them, sniffing here and there, peeing on a dozen trees with a childish glee.
“I cannot believe a thing made from fire has that big a bladder.” Phoebe tried to lighten the mood.
Gruna chuckled, “He is only as you have dared to imagine him. He exists by your will and thought, alone.”
“I am not a witch.” Phoebe grumbled, “It’s not like he does what I say, all the time.”
“He is only as you have dared to imagine him.” The orc replied with a smirk.
“Still not a friggin’ witch.” Phoebe glared.
“I apologise for any discomfort I may have caused. The remarks were merely in jest.” Gruna said, and Phoebe took the opportunity to steal another kiss.
Gruna’s heavy arms went around her shoulders, and Phoebe could feel the gentle flex in them. The strength to shatter boulders, lying in wait to protect her. A holy knight of her own, who wanted nothing more than to just make the sun shine for her.
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The sun vanished.
Gruna shoved Phoebe behind her, stepping forward and drawing her axe in a singular smooth motion. The orc’s armour creaked, as a sudden breeze seemed to fly through the trees. Dancing little sound whistling through the leaves. Almost like a voice, or a gaggle of voices, whispering and giggling, but Phoebe couldn’t work out the individual words.
A growl rose above, a low and rumbling sound that echoed from all directions at once. It wasn’t thunderous like Ghost or Gruna, not earth-shattering like Drektanion. It was different than all of that, sending tremors of fear down Phoebe’s spine.
Gruna planted her feet harder, her entire body going more solid. It didn’t help with Phoebe’s nervousness. All it told her was that the holy knight was as scared of whatever the hell this was, as Phoebe.
The forest erupted in flames on all sides, Phoebe dropping into a crouch and staring around wildly at the billowing smoke that stung her eyes and stank like burning matches and boiling syrup. A screech hit her ears, knocking her sideways to the ground.
Through the haze she saw the shadow of Gruna stand up from the ground. There was no time for warning, no chance of understanding, before the orc was falling down onto one knee - a black sword of flame sticking through her chest.
The screeching turned into a cacophony as a gigantic shape fell out of the sky. Crashing into the ground and spitting dirt and stone in every direction. Snapping and crushing trees as it writhed for a moment.
The smouldering embers of Drektanion’s body gave a jerk or two before it fell still.
A sharp fingernail poked into Phoebe’s neck, and she found herself staring into two bright and purple eyes. The woman in black, with black lipstick, way too much eyeshadow, two black bow tie earrings in each ear, and a glistening black stud in the side of her nose.
The woman smiled sadly at her, and helped Phoebe to her feet.
She glanced by her to see Gruna, who was lying flat on her back on the ground, but still breathing. Injured, again, but still alive.
The woman shook her head, “Not yet. No, you and I need to have a very serious talk, little one. A talk about a topic I don’t think you like.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’M THE ONE WHO KILLED THE MOTHERFUCKING DRAGON.” The voice ripped through the world, tossing wind and knocking Phoebe over so hard she actually flipped back onto her feet again.
She stared in terror at the woman in black, who brushed down her skirt before smiling and speaking with her sweeter voice. One that was almost musical. Instantly calming Phoebe’s beating heart. “But, I digress. There are more important things than such a pathetic creature. Obsessive, compulsive. They have never been free to experience the fullness of life.”
“Dragon’s have ADHD. That… Explains a lot.” Phoebe blinked, and tried to ignore the hate in the woman’s speech.
The woman paced back and forth for a moment, before walking over and above Gruna. The woman sighed, and snapped her fingers. A burst of purple flame sparked out for a moment, before spiralling downwards. Turning into a liquid that snaked inside the new and bleeding wound in Gruna’s chest.
The orc hissed in pain, and Phoebe dashed to her side, falling to her knees before staring as she saw the wound knitting back together. The skin reaching out and latching onto itself, interweaving and growing the scar in front of her eyes.
Phoebe looked up, “You’re a witch.”
“You’re slow.” The woman rolled her eyes, “Of course I am! Could some pathetic child, like this orc, take the life of a dragon? I am a witch. I am the witch. And you, little child of destiny, are trespassing.”
She winced, “I uh… Got lost? Kinda following the dragon. That you um… Killed. Oh shit. He’s actually dead. Someone else is dead…”
Ghost landed in front of her snarling, and pawing at the ground. The tendrils of fur bristled and the flames darkened to a deep black. The wolf snapped his jaws, warning the witch to back off.
The woman gave a smirk and stepped forward, “How sweet.”
Phoebe squealed in horror as the witch snapped her fingers, and Ghost exploded into dust.
Ash, falling to the ground.
The witch shrugged her shoulders, “You have trespassed in my domain. For that, there are consequences.”
“I don’t even want to be here! I just wanna go home!” Phoebe cried, staring through tears at the woman.
She snapped her fingers.
Phoebe’s head flew backwards as she was yanked upwards into the air. The tears vanished in the cold wind as she spiralled upwards, before she was suddenly soaked, bursting through a cloud to find herself soaring high above the world. A glint of steel caught her eye, and she saw Gruna just as bewildered as her, flying towards the same…
She wasn’t actually sure if there was a destination. The witch might have just sent her skyhigh to kill her.
There was no doubt in Phoebe’s mind that she had just met not just a witch, but the exact witch that everyone was somehow expecting her to stand up to, or something. A witch who could snap her fingers and end a mythical creature bigger and stronger than Phoebe had even realised could exist, a few days ago.
The woman who had butchered Gruna’s entire tribe, but felt the need to heal her. Had cut her down, just so that she could have an uninterrupted conversation with Phoebe, before restoring her. A woman who felt that life and death were just toys that she could play with.
A woman who saw a dog defending their master, and just walked up and kicked it to death. She’d seen Ghost, snapped and fingers, and then there were ashes.
Phoebe wept, “I wanna go home.”