The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 972

Chapter 972: Weaver of Destiny

“Pardon?”

“I didn’t ask for an apology. Formle, the truth, right this instant.”

“Where’s the motherly Miira gone?”

“What was that?” she held cutlery, innocent utensils that resembled weapons, “-I couldn’t hear over the sound of sharpening knives.”

“You win,” he caved, “-Yuria was possessed by a clockwork shadow. The latter be a member of Artanos’ legion. Before more questions are asked, I’m an old friend of his. We used to be partners before my whole death thing. I’d normally be secretive about the shared bond; but not now, it won’t bring much good. I must ask, no digging into my past further. It’s left behind, we all share secrets we rather not reveal. Isn’t that right, a not-so-virtuous goddess Miira.”

She flashed her azure dots upon his somber visage, “-how did you?” she hushed.

“Lilith,” he said calmly, “-I mean, it’s not strange to think the relation between you and master goes beyond devotee and goddess. ‘Twould be absurd for once as pretty as thineself to not be satisfied. Rather, I’d think it be an affront, one of the highest degrees.”

.....

“I get it,” she steadied her breathing, “-no need for announcements of my escapades. Yuria was possessed, I presume a domain was activated?”

“Without my coliseum, her soul would have been lost.”

“Good,” she lowered her shoulders followed by the slow chop sound, “-the Shadow Realm is under attack, isn’t it?”

He knew what she meant, “-yeah,” he returned, reading between the lines.

“A traitor?”

“Can’t say for certain. Lest the process greatens, I see nothing wrong with a little game here and there.”

“Lest those games become an addiction. I sure hope they know what they’re doing. If he were to find out, my,” her knife halted, “-I shudder to think what such news would bring.”

“Either acceptance or full-on carnage. There’s no telling; trust is a feeble thing, a valuably feeble word we hold dear.”

Kitchen knock, “-my lady,” panted Kaleem, “-where’s Yuria?”

“Where is she?” fired Cora, “-we need to see her.” A rigid presence blocked said requests. Miira stood with arms akimbo, an unimpressed scan washed them in a cold sweat. Pants halted behind the throats, silence felt obligatory.

“No,” she said, “-I won’t allow visitors. Cora, Kaleem, I was disappointed. Brazen use of powers from the Shadow Realm. Realize, yes? When the powers were needed most – the lack of endurance prevented activation. I say, her defilement and death are thy faults. Head on home, I need not useless guards to protect my daughter. Her chastity was forever stolen and her confidence perhaps to never return. Understand, that actions have consequences. Draebala is no walk in the park. Return to thy masters and ask them for forgiveness, say aloud what happened and how the loss was thy fault.”

Cora got on his knees and begged, “-please, my lady, allow us to see her, even from a distance.”

Kaleem followed, “-we only want to be reassured...”

“Reassurance?” she laughed, “-where was it when her life was in danger. You fought, you cried, you begged? No, from what Formle recounted – you were asleep. Must I continue?”

Jet black hair turned the corner, “-Must you be harsh on them?”

“Gophy,” Miira narrowed her gaze, “-why are you here?”

“To check on my disciple,” she said, “-I know how off-hand you get sometimes.”

“Off hand, pardon me?” she tilted her head, “-Gophy, my dear Gophy, why are you here I ask again?”

“And I reply, to see my son.”

“Right,” commented Formle, “-I’m afraid she’s cleansed from the spell.”

Her uncaring stare snapped onto him, “-excuse me? Care to speak clearly, I’m not much for reading between the lines.”

“And I’m no fond of liars,” he replied, “-lady Miira, I wish thee a nice day,” the footsteps pounded towards Gophy, “-don’t be so high and mighty,” he whispered, “-an ex-lover is no reason to become obnoxious,” he turned the corner – the words only registered. She turned, her lashes flickered with rage.

“Where are you going?” a heavy grip took her shoulder, “-are we going to argue or not?”

“I have no time for nonsense,” she shrugged the grip and dashed. Those with heads to the floor remained so, turtle wishing for repentance.

“Such is the way of life,” she said enigmatically, “-Cora, Kaleem,” the tone eased, she moved forward and knelt, “-listen to me,” she rose both heads, “-Yuria is in no shape to welcome visitors. Reflect on what’s happened for thou art children. Power and strength mean nothing if one can’t save what’s important. It’s the problem he faces constantly. No matter how powerful Igna gets, no matter how great a person he becomes – he’ll always be weak, and such is why he hates his weakness more than anything. Saving a person means more than drawing power from gods, taming demons, or finding legendary weapons. It comes from here,” she tapped her head, not her heart, “-think before you act, think, for when the situation requires absolution, tis logic which makes true, not emotions,” her words coincided with the god of war, “-I don’t expect greatness right away. Walk down a path of thy own choosing – if it doesn’t exist, create one. Never forget, if you can’t save someone, rely on another. There’s no shame in asking for help.”

‘We were stupid,’ he clambered against a counter, ‘-thinking everything would become normal...’

“Lady Miira.”

“Yes?”

“Please open a portal to Draebala,” Kaleem bowed, “-I want to complete what I started.”

“Good,” she smiled, “-on one condition.”

The resolution showed no waves; a concrete mien, “-restriction on thy powers.”

“Restrictions?”

“Yes, find a new way to become strong. Don’t rely on the Shadow Realm.”

“We understand,” they said, “-I get it,” mumbled Cora, “-I get it now...”

Two coins flicked into their hands, “-ticket to Draebala. Go get equipped.”

“Understood,” they saluted and left.

She leaned onto her elbow, ‘-there’s the look I wanted to see. Caution hid between anticipation. They’re finally ready to conquer Draebala,’ another situation came to mind, ‘-Gophy... what’s your position.’

A clearing amidst the forest rumbled. Thick trucks barred as if a cage – foliage shrouded daylight, and one could but see dots of white scattered across the great wall of leaves. ‘And she’s here,’ he stopped, ‘-as I thought,’ pebbles danced, the killing intent cried without restriction. “-Is violence wise?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she answered coldly. He glanced over to see a swirling aura, “-after what thee said, I’m justified to be angry.”

“Am I now?” he turned to face her squarely, “-my words were just.”

“THAT!” she thundered, “-HOW DARE YOU?”

“Make a move,” he lowered his weapons and dulled the aura, “-and it won’t just be me who knows of thy dirty secret. Lady Gophy, thee might think I have muscles for brains, however, having spent centuries beside the god of knowledge is bound to make one wise. Isn’t that right, Artanos’ Juliette. I knew the moment you walked in, the perfume and the way the makeup accentuated thy stern features. It was always his preference to tame strong dames – the goddess of Chaos is as hard as it gets. You’ve met him, haven’t you, my lady, you’ve met him.”

The aura dwindled, “-I did,” she said, “-I did tell him it’s over.”

“Right, such is the lie a teenager would say,” he fired, “-if it’s over, why bother giving a moment’s attention. I shall figure a guess at risk of sounding presumptuous. You yearn for the touch of another, no. You yearn for his touch, you yearn for love, you yearn for someone to hold and comfort thee. Being powerful is a lonely path, one must learn to embrace solitude... Artanos was different; a charismatic fellow with a flair for theatrics. Staxius Haggard had the same scent; cut from the same cloth. You saw Artanos in him, but when time allowed for greater understanding, Staxius chose differently. Lady Gophy, you stand as a shell of the past. Someone sought after by they who wished for an heir or to hold the reigns to a powerful weapon.”

“Stop...”

“As thee wish,” he paused.

“I know,” she added, “-I know what I’m doing is stupid. Still, I want to feel wanted, I want to feel the need to exist. Lilith, Intherna, and Miira all have a close bond with Igna, tis something I can never reproduce. I’m awkward and with a short temper. Trust me, I know. It’s hard, seriously hard,” the destruction harshness associated with her eased, “-how frustrating would be it to have EVERYONE walk on eggshells around you, huh, Tell ME?”

“...”

“Silence,” she turned, “-I get it, no need for concern, Formle,” a disgusted tone gripped her voice, “-everyone’s selfish, I don’t expect anything. Goodbye.”

That night, as Formle had his focus on the stars pondering Gophy’s words – a strange sensation gripped the world. A sort of imbalance shook the air.

Purple hair tied in a high bun and locks left awry around freckled cheeks. The crest of Destiny glowed above a room that resembled a tailor shop, “-it’s happened,” said a softer voice knitting what seemed to be a hoodie, “-I see,” various symbols lit within her deep gaze, “-times a changing.”

Bells rang from the church the following morning. Populous awoke for their daily tasks. Aromatic perfumed freshly baked bread rose from a boulangerie down the street. The dewy morning, frosted windows and rustic streets of stone bricks, and beautiful architecture held the lovely forms of healthy smilingly inhabitants. A small shop, Violetta’ Couture shared the street beside other shops. A cold morning breeze accompanied the air, to the west ambled a small party.

“Good morning, Miira,” said a lady settled onto a rocking chair. An air of nostalgia and comfort exuded, roles of threads and much tailoring produce and raw materials were on display.

“Lady Violetta,” she said, “-may we speak?”

“As you please,” said the weaver of destiny, stopping her knitting. An aid of lesser years moved across and helped in navigation.

“Lady Miira,” interjected Formle, “-is she?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Forgive me,” they changed to a cozier inner room, “-I’ve gotten old.”

“Surely you jest,” said Formle, “-my lady, you look as grand as the palace flowers.”

“Such a charmer,” she smiled with a nonresponsive stare, “-wondering if I’m blind?” she held up her hair, the attendant approached and tied a warm, comfortable blindfold, “-vision is a strange thing. I can say I’ve seen more than anyone else. Don’t worry about this old lady, tell me, Goddess Miira, what brings you to my shop?”

“I need answers,” she said, “-We felt the imbalance yesterday...”

“The worries are indeed well-based. Lady Gophy left the Shadow Realm. She ought to have placed a letter at her estate. There,” the door tapped in the muffled distance, “-the young fellow who came upon the note.”

As was said, a note indeed changed hands until Miira’s, “-to whoever reads this letter, I’ve decided to leave the Shadow Realm. I’m grateful for everything, I couldn’t have asked for a more peaceful life. Time moves and people change, suppose I was pushed by the wind of change. By chance that the note reaches Igna, don’t worry, I won’t do anything to harm the Shadow Realm. In fact, I’ve already given my symbol to you, and only you. Let’s face it, the only reason why I was here was to fill up the position of guard dog. I’m tired of that life, tired of being treated differently. With this, I hope that my disappearance doesn’t cause trouble,” signed Gophy.

*Exhale,* ‘-my head,’ he sat upright, a little parched and nauseated, ‘-sleep’s supposed to make one feel refreshed. Why do I feel like ass,’ he stuffily clambered to the edge where he looked about for slippers, a stranger symbol pulsed, ‘-what’s this?’ he touched to be drowned in a sea of unrestricted power. Bubbles of air escaped, the light of the surface dimmed, ‘-this power,’ the eyes closed, ‘-belongs to Gophy,’ *clap,* the ocean parted into giant walls, a lonesome figure hovered, “-Is that you, Gophy?”