The Devil's Cursed Witch

In a shock, Draven opened his eyes underwater, but his eyes weren’t focused, as if he was seeing something that wasn’t there.

A pair of emerald green eyes.

Green could be considered a rare eye color, but that was not the case for someone like Draven who had spent countless years among humans and the supernatural, who had watched the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires in the continent for the past hundreds of years. There were various shades of green eyes–green like olives, hazel green, jade, bluish green and some, even with a hint of amber…

But none of them had shocking green eyes that resembled an emerald gemstone.

Even with his sharp memory, he could only recall one person who had that particular eye color.

‘The woman in my dream.’

Draven concluded the two females might be related, but he was not sure yet.

‘Valor is a kingdom boasting a history of about three or four hundred years, but I do not recall staying there for long, and I have never stepped on that land for several decades.

‘Could this strange female be a descendant of that woman? Or… are they the same person? But that person in my dreams is a mature woman, not a girl.

‘Then rather than a memory I have forgotten, am I seeing a vision of the future?

‘But if the dream I have is that of the future, then why do I feel a pain in my chest as if I already experienced being stabbed in the past? Why is there a wound?

‘I still lack clues.’

Draven came out of the pool of water, and as his strong figure stood tall, his exposed wet skin glistened under the soft light from the lamps, beads of water tracing the lines of his sculpted muscles before falling on the marbled floor. He raised a hand and ran his fingers through those dripping wet hair strands that were covering his forehead.

With a flick of his wrist, the black silk bathrobe placed on a wooden stand a distance away flew towards his hand. He draped it over himself, loosely tying the band on the waist, finally covering his glorious body. But just as he took a thick soft cloth to dry his hair, a sound caught his attention.

Hoot!

Hearing the call of his owl, a frown appeared on his cold face. He threw the cloth in his hand on the floor and walked out of the side chamber.

Midnight had entered his chamber, flying around before landing on the perch stand near the window.

Seeing his master, the snowy white owl made another series of hoots, jumping from one leg to another, before flapping his wings to stand on the window sill.

Draven eyed the owl with seriousness. “Are you sure?”

The owl moved his head lightly to nod, and the next moment, Draven disappeared from his chamber. The owl hooted impatiently as he flew away.

Draven appeared in front of the guest room where that female creature was staying and saw two elf servants lying unconscious on the floor. He opened the door to verify what his owl informed, and as expected, it was empty.

‘So that thing really ran away.’

The anger rose in his red eyes, looking like raging flames.

‘Who permitted her?’

She was the one who summoned him to save her. She was the one who forced him to take her with him and she was the cause of all the questions haunting his mind.

How dare she run away?!

After realizing that her eyes were similar to the woman in his dreams, he realized meeting this girl was no coincidence. She was the key to his past and the dreams that troubled him for centuries.

‘She can not escape till I get my answers.’

The angry devil disappeared from that part of the palace and appeared at the highest elevated spot in the entire capital of the kingdom, the central tower of the palace. It was a place that would allow him to have a view of the palace grounds, and his eyesight that was as sharp as a hawk would not miss even a tiny movement. Since he could not use his power to track her, this was the only way he could think of.

It had been several hours since the sun had set, and the palace didn’t have officials or residents other than Draven. Not many servants were wandering around, and there were no guards patrolling the grounds as there was no need for them. After all, with the devil living in the palace, what sane being dared cause trouble?

The spacious palace looked bleak and empty as there was not a soul in sight.

But that emptiness proved useful in this situation. It did not take long before Draven spotted movement quite a distance from where he was standing. A delicate figure in a flowing white dress finding its way out of the palace.

For a person suffering from severe burn injuries, she seemed to be moving around fast. And although she was unfamiliar with the place, she was capable of picking decent hiding spots, which made sense from what he guessed of her lifestyle on that mountain.

She perfectly avoided the attention of the handful of servants still awake at this late hour.

The sight of her should have brought down the fury of the King, but for some odd reason, Draven found his anger disappearing the more he watched her.

Why so? Was he relieved to see her? Was having her in front of him that important?

He didn’t move from where he was standing and continued observing her. Her speed was reducing, and he guessed that she must be starting to feel the strain of her injuries. It was to be expected that the more she ran, the weaker she would get. He was sure she wouldn’t last for long.

The sound of flapping wings approached him, and even without looking, he knew Midnight perched. on one of the stone railings beside him. The owl tilted his head when he heard the words his master was muttering under his breath.

“You must be human. Only humans can be so foolish and stubborn despite being pitifully weak.”