I Am the Villainess

Chapter XXV: Ablaze

Delora's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the gentle touch of sunlight filtering through the windows. She stirred slowly, her body aching as she sat up and stretched her weary arms. The rustling of the sheets roused Novice from his sleep; he peered at her from the edge of the bed, his bleary eyes blinking against the morning light. He had spent the night on the floor, an act of preference for the hardness beneath him over the comfort of the mattress. His tousled black and white hair jutted in every direction, a disheveled testament to his slumber. Delora couldn't help but emit a soft chuckle at the sight, a slender thread of joy weaving through her emotions.

"Mornings are not my friend," Novice muttered, a sentiment already familiar to Delora. With deliberate movements, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she pushed it aside.

"I have to retrieve the Wrunix today. It might be best for you to head back home," Delora suggested, not pressing for details about Novice's dwelling. She knew he had a place to return to.

"Alright," Novice agreed, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to restore some semblance of order. "When are you setting off for the capital?"

Her response was vague, meant to keep Novice out of her impending conflicts. "I'm not certain yet."

As Novice headed toward the balcony doors, Delora followed him. The sun had returned after a prolonged absence, transforming the once-gray sky into a gilded expanse above the snow-covered landscape. Novice glanced back at her, his eyes reflecting a flicker of emotion she couldn't quite decipher. Was it curiosity, determination, or perhaps something else entirely? She couldn't dwell on it for long.

"Call me when you depart. I'll offer my assistance as best as I can," Novice offered.

"I appreciate that," Delora replied.

"Can you hold onto my clothes for me?" Novice's request was followed by a swift transformation into his customary raven form, his discarded attire falling to the floor as he took flight.

Delora watched as he soared into the sky, a wistful expression softening her features. The act of gazing upward, normally a harbinger of melancholy, now held a different, almost pleasant, quality. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the thought of perpetuating this sensation indefinitely. She wondered how different her life might have been if she had known this feeling before her life took its fateful, vengeful turn.

Yet, her reverie was abruptly shattered by an intrusive surge of anger, a reminder of the reality she had chosen. Happiness was a foreign concept to her, a luxury she believed she could not afford. Her heart, encased in a cocoon of sorrow, resisted the intrusion of fleeting optimism. With Eligos' insidious grasp coiled around her soul, awaiting the moment of consumption, her existence had been irrevocably tethered to a darker destiny. Hope was a rotten, parasitic emotion that would lead to nothing but disappointment. 

Pushing aside her momentary vulnerability, Delora dressed swiftly, wrapping herself in her brown hood and slipping on the nearest pair of boots. The absence of servants had ushered in a chilling cold throughout the estate; the lack of stoked fires had transformed the once-welcoming rooms into frigid chambers.

In a blink, she vanished from her room, reappearing within the forest she had visited the day before. Her heart raced as her eyes scanned the transformed landscape. The previous day's vibrant woodland had been replaced by a charred wasteland of burnt tree trunks. The acrid scent of scorched wood assaulted her senses as she whistled to signal her companion.

She walked forward, her steps tracing a path through the devastation. Despite the absence of a response, she continued her trek, the crunch of burned debris underfoot accompanying her progress. Just as she was about to issue a final call, her gaze landed on a lifeless form lying among the ashes. The body was horribly burned, its skin blackened and peeling away from the rosy flesh. Delora knelt beside the fallen figure, her eyes tracing the remnants of melted iron armor that clung to the body. A knight.

Turning, she noticed that the scene was repeated across the area—dozens of similar corpses, the battlefield of a brutal clash. Her eyes settled on a partially intact body, its armor bearing the crest of the King's guard.

Fury ignited within her, a visceral reaction to the merciless carnage before her. A screech sliced through the air, snapping her back to the present. Her gaze darted skyward, locking onto the descending figure of the Wrunix. It landed before her, charging forward. Delora instinctively raised her hands in preparation for impact, her shield materializing just in time.

The creature emitted a guttural growl as emerald flames surged from its maw, crashing against her protective barrier. She sensed that the Wrunix had been marked for annihilation, a premeditated strike meant to erase its existence. Valeria's touch was evident, her clairvoyance apparently piercing even this far into the future. Delora contemplated the extent of Valeria's foresight, her mind grappling with the boundaries of such an ability. Did Valeria predict every detail, or were there limits? Was the outcome truly immutable, or could fate be altered?

A realization struck her—Valeria hadn't foreseen the outcome of the battle. If she had, the attackers wouldn't have been sent. Delora puzzled over the enigma of Valeria's foresight, finding no discernible pattern in its revelations. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a vexing reminder of the power Valeria wielded.

As the onslaught of flames subsided, Delora's shield dissolved, and the Wrunix's fiery aggression receded. The creature's gaze remained locked on her, its head tilting in a gesture of acknowledgment. Delora approached cautiously, her guard still raised. She reached out her hand to stroke the creature's nose, her touch gentle despite the tension in the air. It was then that she truly comprehended the extent of its devastation—it had singlehandedly vanquished scores of assailants.

Wrunix were beings shrouded in mystery, rare and potent predators native to distant lands. Their presence on this continent was an anomaly, and little was known about their nature. Delora felt a surge of pride for having such a formidable companion at her side, a partner capable of such ferocious protection.

Her fingers rested on the Wrunix's sleek neck, and with a surge of her teleportation magic, they vanished from the desolate battlefield, reappearing in the vicinity of her estate. The grounds were enveloped in a shimmering veil of protective magic, the air imbued with a palpable energy. The sudden shift unsettled the beast; confusion and distress etched across its features. Delora attempted to reassure it, her voice a hushed whisper amidst the crackling aura. She hadn't anticipated the creature's adverse reaction to the teleportation magic, its darting gaze betraying its unease.

"It's alright," Delora murmured, her hand moving to gently stroke the creature's forehead. Her soothing touch seemed to resonate, and gradually, the creature's agitation began to subside. She had failed to account for the potential disorientation the teleportation might trigger in the Wrunix. But as her calming influence took hold, its restive demeanor yielded, and it moved away from her, seemingly calmer now.

Valeria's continued interference gnawed at Delora's patience. The question lingered whether Valeria was also privy to Eligos' existence, a factor that Delora had thus far relied upon as her last resort. Uncertainty crept in, casting a shadow over her strategy. She was resolute in her intention to employ Eligos as a safeguard, ensuring her survival until Valeria and John Lovell met their end. Yet, as the pieces of her plan shifted, Delora couldn't shake the doubt that clawed at her resolve.