Vettriana Gaunt Malphas became one of the most forbidden creations in the Wizarding world. The prophecy was already been known throughout the 15th Century after a dark witch died and rumors started to circle around the world about how she pledged th...
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Upon the unwelcoming earth beneath our worn footwear, Willow cast her gaze back at the humble hut with a somber countenance. Memories of my departure lingered, but no distress weighed upon me; only the same solemnity echoed within.
Before Abby found her final repose next to her cherished garden, I reluctantly perused the letter she entrusted to me. It held absurdity, causing a moment's hesitation.
"I failed you, Vettriana, unable to shield you from the encroaching darkness. A shameful plea, yet I beseech you for Willow's sake. Journey south, find the wedge tent by sunrise. An urgent matter awaits you; questions linger, but seek answers from those you'll encounter. My apologies for burdening you."
What profound matter demanded such secrecy, warranting reluctance even in writing? Abby, without a stern gaze, bequeathed her responsibilities to me. Pathetic as it may be, I vowed obedience; Willow, now, belonged to me.
Willow remained oblivious to our hut's abandonment, yet I harbored suspicions. The crunch of apples resonated as we shared a silent meal. Willow marveled at the sky, while my adoration was fixated on Dyrkwrm. His tranquil slumber mirrored a wish for my own peace, elusive in this dubious path we tread.
Restlessness brewed within me; questions loomed about the enigmatic destination. Who awaited us? Lylâk's allies, or perhaps his very ilk? Their incessant pursuit vexed me, loyalty unyielding. Weariness crept in; when would my respite arrive?
Interrupting my thoughts, Willow inquired, "Shall we depart? My apple is consumed, and this field offers no solace." I squinted, questioning her understanding of our journey.
"Thank heaven," I feigned a smile, urging Dyrkwrm to wake. His raucous crowing resonated, shaking the ground. Accustomed to the sound, I dismissed it as Willow covered her ears.
"Drykwrm, you will attract enemies," I warned, softening my tone. He heeded, wings shaking.
"Weird Chicken," Willow muttered. I silenced her, aware of Drykwrm's disdain for the moniker.
"He will hear you. Not impressed with being called a chicken," I cautioned. Her embarrassment amused me briefly.
"Apologies, not accustomed," she confessed. I smiled, albeit briefly. A journey lay ahead, and frivolity felt out of place.
As we pressed on, a movement in the zoysia grass caught my eye-a serpent, Drykwrm's potential prey. I commanded, "Come to me," Willow bewildered as the snake obliged.
Thrilled, I teased her, holding the non-venomous creature. The serpent unveiled itself as a farancia abacura, adorned in a glossy sheen with silken scales. A mesmerizing pattern of black bands adorned its lighter backdrop, and its head boasted a vivid orange hue. Small, unassuming eyes held no venomous threat, marking it as a non-venomous entity.
"Is not he pretty?" I remarked, gliding my finger over its scales.
"Y-you should not pick them up. What if they bit you? I heard it is a nasty bite." Willow's worry surprised me, her concern and unexpected warmth.
