Death's Rebirth

CHAPTER 07: BLOOMING IRIS

The spirit, summoned by the pixies, towered gracefully, his height reaching six feet more. his long, lustrous golden hair cascading like a waterfall of sunlight over elegant robes that swirled around him like a gentle breeze. His majestic presence was crowned by a whimsical circlet of wood, its distinctive spikes giving him an air of both authority and intimidation. Yet, despite this striking facade—the softness of his delicate features sparkled with kindness, creating a delightful contrast to the intensity that surrounded him.

What a handsome individual, he's practically glowing under the sunlight. The girl was mesmerised by the sight of the spirit's sapphire blue eyes that resembled the clear and pristine morning sky, perfectly complementing his olive-toned skin. His roman nose and chiseled jawline bestowed an air of regal elegance, while his flowing, verdant robes wrapped around him like a gentle embrace of nature, enhancing the magnificent aura that surrounded him.

"Are you going to keep silent and simply gaze at me like a curious statue?" The spirit's voice danced through the air, tinged with a playful impatience that pulled the girl from her reverie. She blinked, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, and turned her full attention back to the enchanting figure before her.

"Oh! Um, I have no intention of corrupting or destroying anything!" The girl gasped, her words tumbling out in a flurry of surprise and fluster. Caught off guard by the spirit's remarks, she took a moment to gather herself, her thoughts swirling like autumn leaves.

He doesn't look like he believes me. The girl mused, her thoughts fluttering like butterflies in her mind. She found it difficult to meet the gaze of the figure, whose eyes sparkled with an authoritative energy that enveloped them like a shimmering cloak.

The spirit's gaze drifted to her arms, where ominous-looking veins meandered up to her elbows like shadowy vines. His expression shifted from suspicion to a curious blend of confusion and skepticism. "...Is that so?" he inquired, his voice laced with a hint of doubt, as if he were trying to unravel a riddle wrapped in mystery.

"Your mere arrival here has already decimated half the forest life. Not to mention, your very existence emanates a strange, unfamiliar, and incompatible energy that clashes against the magic here." He gestured towards her awakening spot, clearly showing a large patch of decay and disruption all around in their immediate vicinity.

The spirit paused, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a gentle breeze as he contemplated his own words. "Much like someone I know..." he murmured, almost to himself—the phrase hanging in the air like a delicate whisper. He fell silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing in concentration as he pieced together the puzzle, seeking clarity in the tapestry of his thoughts.

He looks kind, but he's rather scary. The thought crossed her mind as she turned towards the once lush, green and vibrant environment that had now completely transformed and decayed. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine and a knot of dread in her stomach, the realisation of her culpability and guilt sinking in had overwhelmed her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have an explanation for that." The girl spoke with a soft yet regretful tone in her voice.

Baffled and confounded by her response, the spirit's eyes danced with a kaleidoscope of emotions—tinges of irritation flickering like fireflies, but predominantly a curious confusion that sparkled like morning dew.

He's definitely suspicious of me. The girl thought, her heart fluttering like a startled bird. She averted her gaze as the air between them crackled with uncertainty.

He then arched an eyebrow, an intimidating challenge in his gaze—as if to say, "Are you quite certain?" His expression held a frosty edge.

Noticing the girl's downturned eyes and the gentle tremor of her expression, the spirit realized she harbored no malice or mischief in her heart. Instead, fear flickered in her gaze, a delicate butterfly caught in a storm. His own stance—arms crossed and voice tinged with impatience—made him appear rather like a tempestuous cloud ready to burst.