The Devil's Cursed Witch

Draven merely watched that figure in white cross distances in the dark like a little ghost. The palace grounds were quite large, especially the flatlands that bordered the forest where the elves resided. If she kept on going with her current speed, it would probably take her more than half an hour to reach the outer wall of the palace.

But how far could an injured human body run?

The figure in white gradually slowed down until she finally stopped upon reaching the garden structures that led to one of the many pavilions in the palace. It looked like she sat down on the ground, leaning against a pillar to hide, but from the fact that she was no longer moving, she probably decided to rest due to exhaustion. That meant his brief entertainment was over.

"Shall we go acquaint ourselves with her, Midnight?" he asked.

The large owl didn't even let out a single hoot before it threw itself down the air, flying away without even bothering to answer his master's question. Draven saw him swiftly approaching that female creature.

"A race with the Devil?"

He let out an amused scoff and disappeared from the spot where he was standing, blinking into existence just a few feet away from that human girl.

His pet? Midnight was yet to reach there.

Hoot!

Several seconds later, Midnight let out an unsatisfied call as he landed on one of the marble statues beside the human.

Startled, the human girl scooted away from the source of the sound, hiding behind the pillar out of instinct. After calming her breath, she took a peek at the white fluffy owl that was about the size of her arm. Though she appeared weak and tired, her body's posture seemed to indicate that as soon as she sensed danger, she would try to squeeze out what's left of her energy to run.

Her emerald green eyes that were filled with caution seemed to glitter in the darkness.

Unknown to her, there was a stronger, infinitely more dangerous presence standing mere paces behind her.

Draven looked down at the strange creature who was crouching behind the pillar. From what he could see, her long mahogany hair was a tangled mess behind her from running wildly, and the white dress she's wearing was dirty and torn at the edges.

When he heard her let out a sigh of relief, he opened his mouth.

"Are you done running or do you want to continue?"

The slow yet dignified voice caused her to flinch in panic like a startled cat. Her eyes shook upon spotting a familiar man with red eyes coming towards her from behind.

Her senses were screaming for her to run, but she could not make a single muscle move.

She lowered her head, unable to endure his gaze, and saw that the man's feet were bare. She raised her head ever so slowly as she noticed the bare feet of the man stop in front of her. She took in the sight of a tall body clad in a long silk robe and the expressionless face giving off a strange charisma despite the poor lighting in the garden.

The moment she locked gazes with his red eyes, she seemed to have forgotten to breathe.

Draven observed this thing he picked up from the mountain.

It was a terrible sight. Her small face had bruises here and there, and what little skin she showed that was not wrapped in bandages was filled with scratches. She was covered in grass and dirt, her clothes unkept, making her look uncivilized. She looked like a beggar from the streets if not for that pair of emerald green eyes. They were enchanting and he could not move his eyes away from them.

Her thin body trembled under his gaze, and he realized that she was scared. He was suddenly reminded of their earlier encounter. Didn't he terrify her to the point she had to hide under her bed? It would make sense that she felt this way towards him.

Draven saw her weak body stealthily backing away, trying to move further away from him. It made him frown.

"Are you not going to speak?"

When he saw her nervously lower her head, that frown turned to a scowl.

It made him wonder if this female creature was mute. He had no memories of hearing her speak, but then again, he wasn't idle enough to personally check on her condition.

As to not further scare her, Draven slowly lowered himself and dropped to one knee, trying to catch her gaze as he offered her an outstretched palm, silently asking her to hold his hand and come with him.

He remained in that posture for a while, but instead of taking his hand, she gazed at it warily, as if his hand was her mortal enemy. Perhaps if she wasn't exhausted, she would have transformed herself once more into another form and try to claw at him like she did earlier.

'This isn't working.'