The Devil's Cursed Witch

Morpheus’ ears buzzed with the way she was blowing that whistle again and again. ‘Patient, little female. You will break my ear drums like this. Stop blowing it already.’ He flew as fast as he could in the direction of the palace, even using his divinity and his battle form in order to arrive by her side as soon as possible. 

By the time his sharp eyesight spotted her little form on the balcony, only then did the stone weighing his chest disappeared. The golden feathers on his wings transformed back to their normal gray color.

‘This naughty human girl! I was scared, thinking she was in danger!’

When he landed next to her, the mixed scent her body emitted caused complicated emotions inside him to stir, it was a strong scent of her mate and he knew what it was on her. 

He had a small argument with her, but he could not deny how he loved just staying by her side. He was tempted to spend more time with her, make the best of his last best moments with her. 

It just so happened Ember mentioned her boredom. Morpheus would be a fool not to grab this chance.

“Morph, are you sure you are alright?” Ember asked. “If your ears are ringing badly, I can ask my servants to fetch a healer.”

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“Umm, I think I am not up to any adventure today. I do not want to walk or roam around that much…I…my legs hurt…” 

Reminded of  the reason, he could only keep the jealousy in his heart. She had a mate, and the divine beast at that.He was satisfied simply staying by her side. 

“With me around, you don’t have to walk,” he coaxed. “I can just carry you like before and fly wherever you want to.”

With her agreement, Morpheus brought her to the skies, letting her experience a thrilling flight, before deciding to visit a place he knew she would love— the flower valley of Reif, a beautiful place belonging to the Valley Elves and the largest field of flowers within the kingdom. 

It just so happened that he had an important matter to attend there as well, related to the  arrangement of the camellia flowers to the graves of the fallen witches on the day of mourning. He needed to fulfill what was seen in the vision.

However, Morpheus did not expect that their easy banterin would eventually lead to a conversation he would deeply regret. 

“…Then you would have been my mate,” Ember said naively.  “I would have asked you to marry me.”

A sour feeling erupted withinMorpheus.

He knew Ember was simply saying those words in passing…but how casually cruel could she be? The possibility of such a future, imagining both of their lives together as loving mates, would be forever out of his grasp. 

‘If I got to you first…if I claimed you as mine instead…’

“You don’t want to be my mate?” Ember asked, grumbling at his silence.

He wanted to hug her tightly and tell her, ‘Of course, I want to be her mate’. 

Morpheus could no longer lie to himself—he was deeply, madly in love with Ember, so much it hurts. Even if he knew this love was impossible, Ember is the only female he would give his heart to. A part of the reason why he wanted to save Draven was her. She could not see her hurt if something had to happen to Draven.

However, these feelings, he would take with him to the grave.

As he attended to the matters with Valley Elf Clan Elder Baruel, Morpheus left Ember to play in the valley. To his horror, despite warning her not to go to the plot where the poisonous Glass Mist Flowers were, this obnoxious little female ended up going there.

He found her passed out in the middle of the Glass Mist Flowers. Fortunately, Baruel and his wife were present to help make an antidote. 

“I love you,” he heard her say in her delirious state.

For a split second, his heart swelled in happiness. 

‘She said…to me…?’

The poison of the Glass Mist Flower would affect the mind, allowing one to hallucinate, but no one knew what kind of scene they would see. It might be a scene from a cherished memory, a choice they regret, or their most hidden desire. That also meant the affected person would be more open and vulnerable to his or her own feelings. 

Ember was staring at Morpheus—did that mean she was seeing him?

‘Does she really feel that way towards me?’

A part of Morpheus was overwhelmed with joy, but a small voice at the back of his head was telling him it was not meant for him. With the woman in his heart confessing her love, could he not… pretend?

His breathing turned heavier with each passing moment.

“Ember…I—” 

Morpheus wanted—no, he ached to kiss her, to confess his feelings to her, to shout and let the world know that this little female was the one he would willingly spend his entire lifetime with. Part of him was saying it should be fine, that he should resolve his regrets before his death.

‘What if…? I should not get ahead of myself. She is not herself. I should not…’ 

However, his silence caused Ember’s eyes to redden. His lack of response caused her mouth to lose its smile, and her lips trembled, as if she was about to cry. 

“You don’t feel the same?” she asked. “You don’t love me?”

Seeing her hurt, what little resolution he had dissolved. 

Why did he want to change Draven’s destiny? One was their friendship, another was his guilt, along with his devotion to his people…as well as to protect Ember’s happiness. 

Morpheus would never let Ember dye her hands with her own mate’s blood— he’d rather she stab him instead, if that was what destiny demands.