The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 189: Illusion Of The Past

Chapter 189: Illusion Of The Past

As the jagged edge of the blade sliced through thin air, she could hear her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ear as she swallowed heavily in fear.

But in the next second, time seemed to freeze as nothing but momentary silence wove into the air. Slowly, her lashes quivered as she opened her eyes to see the edge of Draco’s gleaming obsidian sword an inch away from taking off her head.

Holding her breath, she was unyielding to movement until she saw him pull his hand back, but the sword was still in his tight grip.

His blazing eyes narrowed across her shoulder to the celestial figure behind her. As their eyes met, she could feel the intensifying pressure emanating from their contrasting ambiance.

Sensing another rising battle about to break out between the infinite enemies, she hastily chipped in "The efforts you put into fighting, we should use that effort to save Malika, she needs us right now." She said darting her gaze between both of them, but Michael seemed reluctant to help. She scrutinized his wound thinking he was still hurt from his unwilling behavior but it was entirely healed.

"You won’t be leaving here alive if you refuse, you don’t have a choice." Draco threatened as his grip on his sword tightened, awaiting Michael’s response so he could sweep his head off his body the second his words were opposing.

"She’s in the dark witches lair, right?" He inwuired for certainty even though he was well aware.

She nodded with a sigh of relief, but her disdain toward the angel didn’t diminish in the slightest even though he had finally agreed to help them, saying yes the easier way wouldn’t have hurt, yet here he was all bloodied and disheveled after engaging in a gory fight only to agree at the end.

"Have the both of you finally come to your senses? Well, if so then it’s time to leave." Aurora’s voice echoed as she approached them.

Spreading her hands forth, silver wisps danced around her fingertips as an object materialized in front of them. Manifesting from thin air, a full body sized mirror took form in front of them, silver engravings with arcane symbols weaved into the frame and the glass itself radiated softly with a silvery glow. Rama could never get used to it.

As if compelling them to go through it, the glass emmited a pulsating wave of energy that billowed softly. Rama felt the excessive urge to walk through immediately, but part of the urge was elicited with the thought of seeing Malika.

Aurora was the first to walk through the mirror and her form was stolen into the portal. Draco stood unmoving as he watched Michael go through it. Clasping her hand in his, he pulled her toward the mirror as they both went through it together.

Whimpering nervously, she clutched his arm tightly as the portal sucked them in. She shut her eyes tightly at the blinding light that enveloped them as they floated through time and space, but the strange feeling only lasted for a minute until Draco scooped her up in his arms as they emerged out through the second mirror.

Gently, he placed her down like a fragile figurine while she took in the sight around her.

In a secluded glade deep within the heart of the ancient Whispering Woods, the witch’s lair emerged like an ethereal mirage. The glade itself was shrouded in an eternal twilight, the towering trees reaching skyward with gnarled branches that seem to whisper secrets to the wind. Shafts of pale moonlight pierce through the thick canopy, casting an otherworldly glow upon the surroundings.

The vicinity reeked of dark magic swirling in the air, it was an eerie setting that made her feel an unnerving sense gnawing at her skin. The gnarled twisted trees were dried up and black as if the very essence of nature ceased to function, the leaves had wilted and even the ground beneath them looked as if it had never seen the light of day not rain.

Nestled against the massive trunk of an ancient oak tree was the witch’s abode, a structure that defied conventional architecture. The dwelling appeared to be grown rather than built, as if nature itself conspired to shape its form. The walls were an intricate tapestry of ivy, moss, and climbing roses, their colors muted in the perpetual dimness. Crystals of various hues, suspended in the air by an unseen force, bathed the interior in a gentle, ever-shifting light.

"We can only accompany him at a distance, when we arrive at the entrance, he leaves alone." Aurora informed as they proceeded to go in, meanwhile Rama felt the creeps but she shoved her fear aside as she grasped Draco’s arm tightly.

As they stepped inside, the air grew heavy with the scent of herbs and incense, a heady mixture that lulls the senses into a state of heightened awareness. The witch’s collection of arcane artifacts lined the walls of the corridors, delicate glass vials containing powders of indigo and gold, ancient tomes bound in worn leather, and exotic trinkets from distant lands. Shadows danced upon the walls, cast by flickering candles that seem to burn without a source.

At the heart of the lair was the witch’s workspace, a circular arrangement of weathered stones engraved with mystical symbols. Overhead, a gap in the foliage allowed a glimpse of the night sky, revealing an otherworldly glow that seemed rather menacing than enchanting.

They finally stopped at a dead end, but she reasoned it was the entrance, although it didn’t seem to have an opening.

Aurora looked at Michael with aware eyes, he nodded softly and with an extended hand toward the wall, she muttered incantations and then, a rumbling echo resounded through the corridors as the stone wall parted to reveal the empty interior.

Without wasting further time, he walked through it and then, the wall closed up behind him, making them lose sight of him. She was concerned about him going into their lair alone to face a horde of dark witches, not that she cared about him in general, but if he were to get hurt, then Malika’s safety would be jeopardized.

"He’ll be fine, no need to worry." She heard Aurora’s mellifluous voice like a soothing whisper in her ear and she gave her a small smile.

As they waited around for Michael to emerge with Malika, Draco surveyed the area with the prudent gaze of a predator.

The fact that she couldn’t hear a single sound from the other side of the wall unnerved her as she had no idea what was going on, she kept squirming in unease as she waited around pacing back and forth while Draco’s eyes were fixed intently on her and her vicinity.

Her safety was his top priority, it made her blush discreetly.

A few seconds into waiting, an eerie gust of wind whisked from a different corridor in the labyrinth. The murky sense enveloping the space was hard to neglect, both Draco and the silver witch seemed to be alerted as their eyes narrowed to where the errie wind emanated from.

Her gown kept flailing heavily toward the direction of the corridor, along with the torches that were viciously flickering toward the exact direction.

"What’s going on?" She panicked, aware that this was no natural occurrence.

"Let’s find out." Draco said, unwavering as his obsidian sword materialized in his hand. She wondered if he was immune to fear, but then when she pressed thoughts on it, nothing could be more fearful than the prince of darkness and his father.

Nodding nervously, she grabbed his arm as they moved toward the direction, but then, they halted when they saw a rising fog manifest in the far end of the corridor, in front of them, and gradually the fog expanded in width and height.

As they watched in curiosity, the fog slowly dissipated with a sinister shadowy trail to reveal a form taking the shape of a woman in their midst.

Her form appeared to be somewhat ghostly, clashing between a dream and the essence of reality. Average in height, she stood in front of them, clad in an ocean blue dress that billowed with an ethereal grace even though there was no wind at the moment.

Her blonde hair cascaded down her slender frame, scattering across her face as it danced behind her back in a strange but fascinating manner. Even with strands of her hair flailing across her face, she could make out her pretty facial features.

Her piercing large blue eyes, dimmed yet it retained memories of a lost bygone soul, her skin was looking pale, a type of sickly yet a mesmerizing pale sheen over her skin.

She saw the strange woman’s dull blue eyes screening over them before it dropped on Draco, she could feel him stiffen beside her and when she instinctively looked up at him, his hand holding the sword was inclined in a readied position to plunge her with it.

"Who’s that?" She asked.

"It’s an illusion." Aurora answered.

"How do you know?" She queried.

"Because she’s dead." Draco answered with a numb tone.

She immediately realized who the illusionary woman was, and even though she was dead, she felt a slight tang of jealousy slowly overwhelming her.

It was an illusion of Draco’s past lover, no one needed to break it to her.

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