The Devil's Betrothed
Chapter 505: Despicable Elf, Wicked Witch

Chapter 505: Despicable Elf, Wicked Witch

High atop a distant mountain peak, three supernaturals were sitting on the rugged boulders, savoring a fine wine.

Evanthe, taking a sip and eyeing the small, round ,wooden wine container in her hand, remarked, "Yorian, this wine tastes just as I remember it. Since leaving Agartha, it had slipped my mind."

"This is the specialty of my clan. No other wine can taste like this," Yorian spoke as he took a sip from the similar container in his own hand.

Sierra chimed in, "This is my first time tasting it."

"Then savor it," Evanthe chuckled, "Who’s to say Lord Yorian will be generous enough to share his precious wine with us again?"

Yorian nodded in agreement, acknowledging the possibility. "Indeed, there may not be a next time."

Evanthe, with a sly grin, commented, "We know you only used to share it with her. What prompted this sudden generosity towards us today?"

Yorian, taking a contemplative sip, offered a warning gaze, "If you do not wish to drink it, you can return it to me."

"Do not even think about it," Evanthe swiftly concealed the bottle behind her back. "Once you’ve given it to me, it’s mine."

Sierra chuckled, "Evanthe, you are acting like a little girl."

Yorian let out a scoff. "This is nothing new. You should have witnessed her antics back in Agartha; then you wouldn’t be so surprised."

Sierra chimed in, "I’ve seen her mischievous side whenever we both get bored, regardless."

Evanthe, her eyes narrowing at Yorian, pressed on, "Yorian, don’t try to divert me from the original topic. Are you so overjoyed about sending her off to her wedding that you’re drowning your happiness in this wine?"

Yorian shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. With a flick of his finger, he made the wine container vanish from Evanthe’s grasp.

"Yorian!" Evanthe exclaimed, her irritation evident. "Are you asking for trouble?"

He responded with a mocking smirk. "I did warn you earlier."

Without hesitation, Evanthe leaped from the boulder, landing gracefully on the grassy floor some distance away, thanks to her magical abilities. Anger radiated from her eyes as she harnessed her magic.

And then...

Crash!

The wine bottle in Yorian’s hand exploded, sending wine splattering in all directions. Yorian’s clothes and face were drenched.

He shook his hands and wiped his wine-soaked face, offering Evanthe a decidedly displeased glare.

"She’s at it again," Sierra sighed, her fingers flicking to create an energy barrier around herself. "I can’t allow them to disturb me while I’m savoring this exquisite wine."

"If you dare," Evanthe challenged, "come face me." However, Yorian had already descended to the grassy ground, determined to teach this witch a lesson for squandering his wine.

They engaged in a fierce magical battle, their bodies floating in the air, just few feet above the ground as they faced, skillfully dodging and countering each other’s spells.

Their mocking words were equally sharp.

"How dare you take it out on me when you’re the one who sent her off to her wedding?" Evanthe attacked.

Yorian defended himself, "Then, would I have run away with her only to see her sad face all the time while remembering the one she loves?" and attacked Evanthe.

She defended swiftly and scoffed, "That Dragon would have pursued you and torn you apart."

"As if I he really can?" he said while preparing his next attack as both continued without having any sign of stopping.

"Then why didn’t you take her with you? Who knows your happiness would have granted me few more jars for wine from you."

"For the sake of your selfish desire for wine, you would sacrifice a young woman’s happiness?"

"Yes. You should have tried it."

"I am not as selfish as you, witch. My long life has not yet clouded my judgment between right and wrong."

"Really? Wasn’t it wrong when you confiscated my wine bottle? You despicable elf, why don’t you go to hell?"

"With you around, I’m already in hell, you wicked witch."

Both continued their skirmish, behaving like immature young supernaturals in their youth, while Sierra couldn’t help but laugh as she witnessed their heated exchange.

After an extended period of battle with no clear victor, exhaustion finally overcame them, and they returned to the boulders.

Sierra removed the energy barrier around herself, remarking, "This wine tastes even better when accompanied by a heated exchange between two formidable individuals."

Evanthe, still resentful that Yorian had confiscated her wine and that Sierra was reveling in it, offered Sierra a stern glare. "Do you want to join in?"

Sierra declined, her voice laced with seriousness, "No. I must conserve my powers to protect my daughter, rather than engaging in fruitless banter like yours."

Another wine container materialized in Yorian’s hand. However, before he could bring it to his lips, Evanthe snatched it away. "That’s mine. Fetch another for yourself," she declared, taking a sip.

Yorian, using his magic, conjured another wine bottle for himself. A quiet lull settled over them as none spoke.

"I know Oriana reminds you of her, but it seems you were genuinely smitten with her," Evanthe finally broke the silence, not expecting Yorian to provide a direct answer.

"My ancient self has more pressing matters to attend to than dwelling on the matters such as this," he replied with calm detachment.

"Matters such as this?" Evanthe arched an eyebrow. "You mean matters of the heart?"

Yorian met her gaze. "Instead of focusing on me, why don’t you take more interest in your own affairs? Why don’t you go and meet King Theron? Megaris isn’t far from here."

Evanthe, who had been chatty until now, chose to ignore him, quietly sipping her wine.

Once more, silence enveloped them, until Sierra broke it with her words. "Yorian, you did a commendable job by intervening at the right time and helping her reach a decision."

Yorian responded, his tone tinged with sadness, "Though she’s sorrowful now, she’ll soon realize that her happiness lies with him, and the past no longer holds sway."

"I hope they find some moments of peace together before any looming disasters come their way," Sierra remarked, her thoughts gravitating toward the impending threat – the Demon realm.

"Prince Arlan will bring her to meet us tomorrow. We’ll assess the situation and determine what we can do," Evanthe added.

"Though we could never be with the ones we desire, I hope these young ones to never have to part from each other," Sierra reflected, the melancholy atmosphere settling over all three of them as they remembered their loved ones.

Sierra reminisced about her blissful days with Armen, while Evanthe couldn’t help but recall Theron from her past, the man she had loved and who still awaited her. Yet, in the background of her memories, an image of a red-eyed man lurked in the shadows – her first love and the father of her child.

She frowned at the intrusion of his image when she’d rather focus on Theron. Deep down, she couldn’t deny that the red-eyed man was her soulmate, the one she had once given her heart to. They could never be together, but their shared past was etched like an indelible crack in stone, destined to endure forever.

Yorian closed his eyes, the memory of those forest-green eyes and that captivating smile etched vividly in his mind. Even after a century long time, her image remained fresh, haunting his thoughts. But then, abruptly, another young woman’s face, beaming at him, invaded his thoughts. He hurried opened his eyes and tried to dismiss the present truth of his life. He could never be with her; she belonged to another.

Evanthe drained the last of her wine and turned the bottle upside down, inspecting it. "Already finished? You stingy elf, you could have filled it up more."

Yorian remained silent and, instead, righted her bottle, remarking, "There is more now."

Evanthe felt the bottle suddenly grow heavier and shook it to confirm. She took a sip and beamed like a mischievous young girl. "Thank you, Yorian."

"This is the final one," Yorian declared, resolute in not falling for her sweet charades.

The sweet smile on Evanthe’s lips vanished as if it had never existed, replaced by a frown. "Stingy elf."

-----

Drayce stood by the window, his gaze fixed on a distant mountain, his eyes studying something intently.

Seren, who had been asleep in bed, noticed his absence beside her and inquired, "Dray, why are you awake?" She gracefully rose from the bed and joined him.

He tenderly embraced her and continued to gaze towards the mountain. "I was simply looking in that direction."

Seren followed his line of sight. "I sense a surge of divine powers there," she remarked, but then her expression shifted to one of surprise. "Why are Mother and Mister Yorian exerting their powers?"

Drayce’s smile widened. "My Queen, your abilities are growing stronger by the day."

Seren returned the smile but remained focused on the mountains. "What could be happening?"

"They are likely honing their skills," he replied calmly and guided her back to the bed. "Let’s return to our rest. Tomorrow I will take you out to visit this city."

"Are we going to tavern?" she asked excitedly to which Drayce nodded, "That too."

"How about we get Oriana together as well?" she asked, getting into the bed.

He tucked her in bed, "You can ask her yourself tomorrow."

"Alright."