The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today
Chapter 62: Tailors of Frozen Fog

Chapter 62: Tailors of Frozen Fog

The Dragon Queen’s claws mauled down the stoned head, and the emerald greens splattered into black dust as its body crumbled. Adrei frowned, the stinkiness of the undead covering up the corpses’ rotted smell, as she glanced up towards the several green-lit eyes flooding the clear blue sky, all stone statues with wings fluttering, their weeping masks signifying the coming of a grand entity beyond their grasp.

Weeping Gargolytes. Adrei narrowed her eyes, the indifferent greens towering a humiliation for the Queen who demands bows instead. The Draconic lens observed the slight tilt in their pupils, between the few unconscious crowds left behind and the Dragon Queen, not for deciding their prey, but for confirming their stillness, ready to pounce on the crowds for distractions the moment the Queen spread her wings.

They are here to stall her, but she won’t allow it. And if they merely used sky terrains for their advantages, she merely needed to tear the sky. And so, with her flamed claws stretched back, she chanted the rights to flight that belonged only to the sky Dragon.

<Scratch. Click. Void.>

Words of power crossed as Adrei’s flamed claw slashed the air; the sky obeyed and cowered as it willingly tore open a flamey crack with an abyssal pull, consuming and devouring all airs along with the victims. The gargolytes’ wings stuttered as they were dragged along, the innocent airs claiming them for company in the void as stones and winds were incinerated, indifferent emerald greens splattering into ashes.

As the abyss welcomed itself out, the sky was once again clear, swirling ashes and bonemares that mirrored the runes beneath the dragon’s feet, the garoyltes’ indifference no match with a Queen’s pride. The Dragon Queen perked up her nose, not enough. Stinks still fuelled the nostrils with utter disgust, another batch of garoyltes coming from far West, with some already on the ground terroising the innocents. With a scrunched-up expression for a lingering tickle from her sister’s mana, the dragon Queen dashed to another corner, another group of weeping masks, another claw that would shrug away their brambled greens.

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"What in the hell is with these Gargolytes?!"

Selene screamed as she cut down another stoned statue, her eyes darting around at her subordinates trying their hardest to quell the chaos. Smokes flying, crowds screaming, children crying just as the weeping masks stared down. One after another, as Selene thrust, then switched her grip for a downward slash, black dusts scattered...not upon the ground but another weeping mask that lunged at her.

"Damn it, Uncle Demond!" Selene wobbled a dodge aside for the claws thrusted, her steps unsteady as her sword met the same claw before parrying and cutting the stoned arm and then the head. Her frowning eyes finally lingered on the ice witch, who merely stared at the sky. "Uncle Demond?! Hello?! Stop dreaming and help me with this alre-aaaaaaah!"

Her frantic sword slapped away another claw as a clumsy adjust on her step forward and plunged into the stone chest, a growl escaping her lips. "Uncle Demond! Come on! I can’t...ah give me a break god damn it!" She slashed for another, swords almost flinging away from her unsteadied grasp, as her steps faltering with the force she panicked away.

"Shut it, brat. Buy me some more time."

No hints of guilt were in the witch’s flat tone whilst knights were fighting their own death battles in the square. Selene grumbled as she pulled out her sword to greet another mask with a side-slash, grunting. "This better be good! Or I will tell Alice all the dojins stashes you have hidden."

"Go ahead, she already knows." The ice witch grunted as she glared at the sky, her mana already stretched like tendrils for above the clouds and beyond the Town Rouen. Garolytes, all of them. The mana tendrils could barely feel the gaps in-between the statures for overwhelming numbers on the land outside the city and beyond the clouds that hid the green-lit malice. The gusts howled not of warcries but of weeping, the stoney sensation on the tendrils unnerved the witch’s senses.

They are never-ending, and Manasseh is very likely out of Adrei’s grasp, judging by the sheer scale of this attack. The witch gritted her teeth, formulas jolting her stimulus as one clashed over another, one that could withstand the claws and huge shoulders of Gargolytes.

With a twirl of her staff, a formula finally emerged from the tip, a <tale> for the fogs that would mar even the numbest of senses.

"Fading winds. Howls amongst vagueness. Tailors for skins and fleshness."

A cooling, twirling gust pulsed the spines of knights and Selene as they slashed another before the stones splattering to reveal a witch, staff raised as a tranquil, glitery blue fogs surrounded her, the swirls singing lone tailors who stitched with icicles instead of needles.

"I pray for the fabrics that would dress the sky. I call for the coldness that would purge blackened tides."

A smooth curling of fogs coated the staff before they launched outwards for the clear sky, through the clouds, and passed through the gaps between the gargolytes swarms. The mana tendrils spoke to the witch as the indifferent greens, for the first time, trembled against the will of a greater will than even their master’s.

"For the hollowness unbound, may vahallas quell the sorrowed stitches of your cowls!"

The fogs then pulsed as it seeped into each and every gargolytes’, their greens turned not on the town but on their bretherens, as claws meet claws, teeths met necks and masks met fists, the first shatter of the weepings in the blue-tinted, fogged cowls. The tailor’s embrace never ended as the fog surged outwards before circling and coating the town in a hooded barrier, a promise to never reveal the holy town’s visage unto evils.

Selene’s sword finished off another, and her violets who glanced up shook. Clear skies now hued blackened blues instead of pure, the streets’ edge laced blue depths of tranquility from the dangers outside. As the witch’s mana tendrils pulsed, the greens in the sky desperately clung for the sun as the land shook with sprints away from the unknown fogs, she merely sighed in contentedness.

Yet that contentedness trembled as she glanced down at the trembling runes beneath her. The sanctity of whiteness faintly glowed of an awakening, the gusting sprawling in whispers of regrets, sorrows, and confusion. Why were we not rested again? What is happening? Why were our coffins tainted white instead of rosery reds? Doubts clouded the witch’s ears as her eyes drummed at the echoes of the griefs, taunting her of the failures that soured her throats, as the witch began gasping for the airs. Each syllable of ’why’ were uneven rags that coated every thought, as the witch clutched her chest. Weepings...weepings then scorned her, mocked her, but....sympathised with her, a lingering dissonance that distorted the witch’s sense of reality.

<Lull. Warmth. Rest.>

Then, a surging ember carrassed the witch’s soul, a familiar sense of scales tickled her ears. Cries were not burnt but lulled away by a warming ember, as they clang onto the warmth within the abyss without reds. Scattering scorns and mockeries fading along with the corpses’ settlements around bondfires of lull, as the witch’s furrowed brows finallly loosened, her icy diamonds glancing behind her with a sigh, of relief, of slight worry, of gratitude.

"It seems someone is not doing their jobs well."

Adrei chuckled as she messaged the witch’s ears, her softness a great contrast to the ruthless indifference she bestowed upon the undead statues. "I must apologise. I was distracted, and I couldn’t allow innocents to perish under my gaze."

"...mm." A nod is all they needed to convey the devotion, as the witch frowned again, the runes’ glowing of urgency. "So Manasseh suceeded. Then we only have one spot to go for, but...."

"But?"

Selene, already scowling at the weirdly romantic atmosphere from the side, shouted. "But there are still god damn crying stones every corners of the streets! Come on! There’s no time to lose!"

The tired knights nodded disgruntled, each bearing clawed and bitten injuries. They knew full well their numbers were outmatched, and only the strengths of the witch-dragon duos may incur a chance.

Demond sighed as she left the dragon’s messaging, her diamonds meeting ambers as if to ask for her assistance. The Queen naturally nodded, before they both bolted away from the clearings, metal clatterings of knights’ armors flooded a leatherry tappings of Selene’s shoes. The Daughter groaned as she stared in the direction of the mansion, housing none other than her mother.

Please be safe. And...stop that meatshield from ruining herself further. Drifting thoughts were carried along with the momentum, as her sword lunged for another weeping mask. The witch’s icicles easily decorate heads with holes while the dragons’ flamey claws seethed dust and ashes. Battelfields only of black dusts flowed, as a silent weeping among the particles echoed.