The Devil's Cursed Witch

On the southern mountain range, a part of one mountain had collapsed, while the surrounding forest was almost completely destroyed, countless trees uprooted and the ground badly cracked as the two beasts fought like their lives are on the line, turning a blind eye on the damage they had caused.

The dignified look of the King of Agartha and the easygoing appearance of the Commander of Warriors were both nowhere to be seen. In fact, two miserable figures had emerged from a pile of rubble.

Half of Draven’s shirt was clawed off, one sleeve even missing, with his black hair a complete mess and cuts from wind blades visible on his arms and chest. A trickle of blood could be seen leaking from the corner of his mouth. Meanwhile, Morpheus’ state was not any better. There were bruises on his face, one eye even swollen shut, and some feathers from his wings were missing, causing parts of his gray wings to be dyed red with his blood.

Both men looked miserable, yet there was one big difference between them–their expressions. While Draven’s cold face was murderous, Morpheus could still afford to sport a mocking smirk on his lips.

Draven disappeared from where he was standing, and the next moment, his hands got hold of Morpheus’ throat, pinning him to the stone wall behind him, his other hand lifted to give him a strike strong enough to break three or four ribs.

But the smirk on Morpheus’ face remained, and the next moment, a gust of wind hit Draven in the gut, causing him to double over. Their situation turned with Draven being the one strangled by Morpheus while  pinned against the wall of rock.

“Just because I let you beat me, do you really think I am that easy to kill, Draven?” That mocking smirk on his lips widened. “Before, I had no will to live but now I have a reason to continue living. I believe you know that reason. For old times’ sake, should you not rejoice for your old friend?”

Morpheus merely laughed. “What are you doing? Giving me a scratch? I don’t even have a single internal injury. You have exhausted your powers already, oh Almighty Dragon. Do you think I cannot take you down at this moment?”

Draven knew his own state best. Magic exhaustion. It was a situation that he had not experienced for a long time. For the past few days, he had been using his spatial powers to teleport in and out of Agartha, crossing long distances covering several kingdoms for an entire day, and today, he even had to deal with a group of black magic practitioners.

As the saying goes, even an ant could hurt an elephant.  Draven’s and Morpheus’ combat ability were almost on par in the first place, and with his magical power reserves exhausted, Morpheus did not even have to do much to overpower him at this moment.

Draven knew…he knew he could not deal much damage to Morpheus, but he had gone crazy upon realizing what Morpheus had done. This disgusting man took advantage of his naive mate!

Glass Mist Flower!

He didn’t know the exact situation, but to discover his mate had been intoxicated by that dangerous plant, coupled by the fact he could smell Morpheus’ scent on her, all he wanted to do was to kill this beast.

“Even if you attack me, you cannot turn back time. Aren’t you being silly venting weakly like this? Fight me again in your best state,” Morpheus said as he easily disengaged himself from the rock, stepping forward, causing Draven to be pushed backwards. He then lowered his voice, his tone serious, “But you know it, right? The signs are all pointing in that direction. You can feel it. I do not believe you don’t. You can feel that your end is fast approaching, and destiny cannot be changed. And when that time comes…”

Morpheus’ only good eye stared at his red ones.

“…Are you sure you want to kill me, the only one who will take care of your mate with all honesty when you are gone?”

Hearing these words, the darkness in those red eyes started to fade and the grip of his hand on his throat loosened as well.

Morpheus continued to speak, his tone unchanging.

“Do you think that if both of us are gone, an unmated human can survive in this kingdom full of supernatural beings no matter how special she is? You can’t even send her back to the humans as she bears your mark for all to see.

“Those who hate Agartha, once they discover her, they will no doubt move to kill the Dragon’s mate right away. What if she falls into the hands of black magic practitioners? I do not even want to imagine what kind of torture she would experience.”

Draven’s body froze like a statue as he closed his eyes, but Morpheus’ words continued to flow to his ears.

“Do you want that to happen to Ember, Draven?”

The truth that he didn’t even wish to think about had been laid bare. It was like the raging fire burning inside him had been doused with ice cold water.

Destiny…

Such a beautiful yet wicked word.

Draven would willingly sacrifice his life when the time called for it. Morpheus had not said a single lie. All the clues had been pointing to his incoming death…  but what would happen to Ember when the vision had come to pass? How would she survive without him?

Red eyes stared at the bruised face of his old comrade. This was once the face of the man he had trusted to cover his back, one who was as close to him as a brother. That was why the fury that erupted when he felt betrayal was immense.

The dragon inside him was enraged at the thought of another male being close to his mate, and it was worsened by the fact that the male was Morpheus. It brought the worst out of him.

“Be rational, Draven. That Dragon can be brainless but you cannot,” Morpheus said, as if having read his thoughts,  “and if you still insist on fighting, I will make sure to defeat you in a formal duel. Then as the rule goes, the male who wins takes the female. Do you want to do that?”

Draven simply stared at Morpheus, his mind flooded with nothing but worry about Ember and her future. He didn’t pay attention to the other things Morpheus was saying.

There was a special rule followed by the  beast race.

There had been a situation many generations ago when two males wanted to mate with the same female but refused to share despite both of them being accepted by the female. Two clans had become enemies and went to war, and unnecessary blood was shed. In the end, the decision was made by a duel between those males and the winner took the female. Ever since then, the later generations had accepted the tradition in order to prevent clans from getting involved in a fight between potential mates.

However, this was an extremely rare case, as it is a fact that exceptional females have the right to choose more than one mate.