"The cottage is really charming." She said with a smile as she proceeded into the cottage, walking through the door with Draco behind as they erged into the cottage.
The interior of the cottage was even more charming and she found herself grinning from ear to ear as she surveyed the beauty of the cottage.
The fireplace that was dead when they walked in was suddenly lit up as flas materialized in it with a soft intensity. She whipped her head toward Draco with a small smile, impressed by his powers.
"How did you bring the dead roses back to life?" Rama queried.
"Just a small trick." He replied.
"I thought it was impossible to bring sothing back to life, but if you can do it, then why haven’t you revived Malika?" She asked thoughtfully.
"Malika isn’t a dead rose, she’s an entire human being. The life source is more vital than that of a re rose." Draco explained.
She let out a small sigh, her mood slightly gloomy.
"Do you rember anything from here?" He asked as he paced around, the wood underneath creaking with every step.
"Just like everything else it’s familiar, but I still don’t rember." She said with a slight frown.
"Give it ti, you’ll get there." He said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, from behind.
Suddenly, a strange high ringing sound filled the air, like the sound of enchantnt. Left in confusion, she whipped her head left and right in disarray as she searched for the source.
Behind her, she heard Draco curse under his breath as he released her "Fuck."
As she veered around to face him, his face was etched with displeasure, making her realize he was aware of what the strange sound was.
"What is..." Her question was interrupted when she caught sight of tiny mystical beings with glittery wings as they fluttered into the room in groups, sparkly dust trailing behind them.
Her lashes fluttered in disbelief as her eyes were fixated keenly on the magical beings "Are they...faeries?" Her voice was a whisper as she asked.
"Yes, they’re quite acquainted with you." Draco said as he groaned in exasperation while shooting subtle glares at the faeries way.
"Oh, how lovely." She muttered with a smile.
"The queen is back.." The faeries chirped happily with their tiny voices as they flew around her.
"And so is the...prince of darkness." They muttered in a small voice, portraying their fear.
"Hello there." She giggled with excitent in her eyes as she delicately brushed a purple haired faerie with transparent wings streaked with magenta, blue and white.
"We thought you were dead." One of the faerie whispered as it twirled a lock of her hair.
"The rumors said you both were dead, it was such a sad day for the faes." Another faerie with blonde hair and transparent blue wings said as her shoulders drooped sorrowfully.
"But you’re alive thankfully." Another one chipped in.
"But we heard you lost your mories, is that true, Your Highness?" A green haired fae spoke up, staring up at her with large green eyes for a reply.
"Yes, I did lose my mories, but he’s helping regain them and I hope you all will too." Rama said with a smile.
As she spoke, they gasped with wide eyes in shock, their various myriad of hair, eyes and wing colors were like a kaleidoscope of rainbows clashing into one another to create a reveling spectacle. She couldn’t stop staring at them in awe.
"Oh my, that is such a horrid news." One of the fae muttered as she clamped her tint hand over her equally tiny mouth.
"It’s alright, I’ll get my mories in no ti, hopefully." She sighed.
"What about the war?" A blue haired faerie spoke out "Yes what happened in the war?" A white haired chipped in "What sort of maniac attacked you all?" Another chipped in "I heard it was the devil." The silver haired spoke and they all gasped in horror "So said the goddess of death broke out of her imprisonnt." The red haired said and their eyes widened in sheer terror and disbelief.
"Is it true my lord? Did Morwana break out?" The blonde haired queried with quivering lips. "Is she roaming around freely?" Another chipped in. "That is ludicrous, if she indeed truly was, then the world would have been upturned into a chaos ground." Another said reasonably.
"Then what happened, my lord? Was it the devil?" The green haired queried while the others waited for his reply.
"That’s enough questions, go away or I’ll make you." Draco threatened in a dark growl as he bared his fangs at them.
The faeries whimpered with sheer terror reflecting in their colorful eyes as they drifted backward until Rama interjected.
"It’s alright, they can stay. After all, you said I was acquainted with them, it could help jog my mories back and also I like their company, so cute and little." Rama said with a hearty chuckle as she approached them, while they hovered around her.
"Right." He groaned as he sat in one corner while watching them with a bored look.
He had to watch the mischievous tiny creatures as they communed with her, giggling and laughing. While he stared, a mischievous red haired fae stuck her tongue out, blowing raspberries at him.
He shot her a lethal glare and she whimpered in fear as she hid behind Rama, trembling, but Rama didn’t seem to notice the exchange as the other faes kept her busy with their entertaining presence.
Enduring the fact that his wife had been stolen by the mischievous little beings, he suppressed his impatience only because of the smile on her glowing face, but after watching them for a while, he quite enjoyed just watching her happy and amused.
A sudden shadowy darkness seeped into the room, like dark tendrils reaching out to him. His instincts had only one being in mind as his countenance twisted into a dark scowl.
"I’ll be right back." Draco said as be jolted out of his seat, proceeding toward the door.
"Where are you going to? Is everything alright?" Rama asked and then, the faeries attention was averted to him.
"Just out for a bit of fresh air, I’ll be right back before you know it. The faeries suffocate with their sparkles." He quipped and the doubt faded from her face.
"Alright then." She nodded, while he dashed out of the cottage.
Stepping out, Draco stood alone in the quiet courtyard. A chilly wind rustled through the leaves, sending shivers down his spine. An eerie silence settled over the scene, as if the very air held its breath in anticipation.
As Draco gazed into the vast darkness surrounding him, an ominous sensation crept through the shadows.
A palpable aura, thick with malevolence, began to seep into the vicinity, weaving its way through the air like an invisible serpent. Draco felt a peculiar chill crawling over his skin. His eyes widened as he instinctively recognized the unholy presence that now enveloped him.
The darkness deepened, becoming more than a re absence of light. It morphed into a tangible force, a veil of obsidian energy that clung to the air. Draco’s heart quickened, a mixture of revulsion and anticipation coursing through his veins. It was a call of darkness, an otherworldly beckoning that resonated within the core of his being.
As the dark aura intensified, Draco’s surroundings blurred into shadows, and the cottage seed to crumble away into nothingness. All that remained was the ethereal connection between him and the unseen force, an unspoken communion that spoke of ancient blood and infernal lineage.
In that surreal mont, Draco’s senses heightened. He could almost taste the bitterness of the abyss, feel the tendrils of wicked energy wrapping around him. The very ground beneath his feet seed to pulse with an unholy rhythm, as if the earth itself acknowledged the impending arrival of a malevolent force.
Suddenly, the air grew still, pregnant with an impending revelation. Draco’s eyes darted anxiously around, searching for the source of the encroaching darkness. And then, erging from the depths of the abyss, a figure materialized before him. The devil himself, his father, stepped forth from the shadows, blending seamlessly with the inky blackness that surrounded him.
The devil’s silhouette was imposing, a regal figure draped in flowing obsidian robes that seed to absorb the feeble moonlight. His presence exuded a magnetic malevolence, a charisma born of eons spent navigating the realms of darkness. His eyes, deep pools of crimson, bore into Draco’s soul with a mixture of pride and expectation.
A hushed tension hung in the air as father and son regarded each other. The devil’s voice, a symphony of sinister undertones, echoed through the stillness. "Draco," he intoned, his words resonating with the weight of eons. The very air quivered with each syllable, as if the fabric of reality itself responded to the infernal authority within the voice.
Draco, standing on the precipice of destiny, felt a peculiar mixture of awe and bond. His father’s presence, both awe-inspiring and terrifying, cast a long shadow over the courtyard. The devil’s gaze bore into him, dissecting the fibers of his soul with an intimate knowing.
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