✨ A Little Bit of Magic || READER X RAY || The Promised Neverland

✨ Chapter Twenty Two

The soft strumming of a mandolin gently shook me awake. It's... It sounds so pretty, but where's it coming from..? "Mhm," a quiet groan escaped my lips, my heavy eyes fluttering open. The- The garden? What? Wait, I remember now. I came here after Ray cancelled our classes for the rest of the week. And that music- it's so pretty... but where's it coming from? My hands were nestled comfortably in the thick green grass underneath the lavender willow, my dewy palms dry after wiping them on my Witch's robe. My body- it felt so heavy. But the music lifted my mood. I pushed my left hand against the tree's touch bark, pushing my sore legs up from the strange sleeping position. The sky above me was dipped a caramel orange, the complete opposite shade of the baby blue I had fallen asleep to. How long had I napped for? I glanced upwards, the music seemingly coming from above me.

A single window at the upmost room of the tower was hanging open, a small clay flowerpot just barely hanging off the edge. I should've warned them- or her, at least. Because that room should have been headmaster Isabella's room. The music grew louder, the instrument approaching the small balcony. She began to hum along with the song, and what I assumed to be her fingertips hovering over the balcony's railing. A rush of adrenaline washed over me, my instincts sending me back underneath the willow tree. So it's not the headmistress playing. I gulped nervously, continuing to watch her nod her head to the song, as if it was one she'd heard a thousand times. Then suddenly, the person hit a sour note, Isabella immediately cringing at the disturbance. "Once more," She said softly, tracing the brown flowerpot's rim. "You're almost there. I'll sing along." Who? Who's she talking to? They're very talented, if anything. A boy's voice replied an almost inaudible "Okay," the volume of it so soft, I couldn't tell who it belonged to. The song played from the beginning, the headmistress now singing lyrics. A- A lullaby? It was indeed a very beautiful song... But the lyrics... They were so sad, as if it was an ode to loss- a  symphony for death. The boy finished this run flawlessly, the corners of the headmistress' mouth rising in an eerie smile. "See? There's no need to worry." She lifted the pot from the windowsill, bringing it into the room. Her voice was muffled, continuing to speak one sidedly. "This is what you were born for- This is what you are capable of. This art, this magic of death that far surpasses pyro is known only by you, and only taught by me. Never forget what you came from. Don't let her change you. She's... She's just an obstacle. Just a tool." "Just a battery," the other voice finished her sentence, sounding rather sad and disappointed. I still couldn't make out who it was. Isabella's heels clicked as she walked back to the balcony, placing the plant back on its windowsill. "Oops!" She hissed, a loud shatter resounding from a few feet in front of me. Shit! I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep me from shouting, my heart truly on the edge of exploding. The headmistress sighed loudly, muttering something about calling the janitor.

My gaze fell from the balcony to the thing that had fallen. And holy shit, I was more than shocked to see what were the contents of the broken flowerpot. Fear. No- Something more than fear. Pure terror. I remember it clearly, the beautiful white rose that had been living its best life in that brown vase. It mimicked the pure white shade of freshly fallen snow. But this- This flower in front of me- It wasn't even a flower... And the rich soil that housed it- It was all gone. All that was left was ashes. Ashes and the flowerpot. That perfect white rose had withered away into a lifeless pile of black dust, the shade of soot. Isabella had said something about death magic. A magic that could kill far more brutally and far more efficiently than pyro. As if a death by fire wasn't merciless enough. Withering away- Withering into nothing- what do I make of this? Who was she teaching this to? Why was she teaching this to anyone at all? My knees had decided to work, my body moving on its own. I stumbled out of the garden, casting the doorway spell as quietly as I could. The image of the ashes had burned itself into my head, a collage of before and after replaying endlessly. I slammed the door open, immediately greeted by Emma and Norman. "y-y/n? Are you- Are you okay?" The white haired boy stuttered, rushing to my side. He caught my fall, the beating of my heart thumping all the way in my head. "You look like you'd seen a ghost!" Emma cried, catching my other arm.

A ghost? Unfortunately it wasn't anything cool, like a dead princess or a pirate. The phantom I'd seen- Was of a rose.