Power

Death's Chase

Ivy was becoming restless as it was getting late. She pondered whether he would show up before dusk. She let out a sigh as she peered through the small open window at the nighttime sky. The stunning landscape that was gazing at her made her feel oddly at ease and motivated to paint it.

Once she was done painting, the anxious feeling returned, and she sat on the floor with her knees up to her chest. Her anxious gaze swept over the small, gray room that was adorned with instruments, paintings, and exotic plants. There was still so much to do, but still so little. Her gaze landed on a little picture hanging on the wall, showing her and John grinning broadly against a snow-covered background. She yearned to go exploring and traveling with John once more. She let out a sigh.

Just then, footsteps approach. "Ivy..." John called. Ivy sprang to her feet, "I'm up here, John." she shouted. At last, he was home. "What have you been doing all day, Ivy?" John asked as he entered the room.

John stood with a weary appearance; even with the slight stoop in his shoulders, his body was strong and tenacious. He was wearing a tweed coat that was well-worn yet immaculately maintained, along with pants that seemed to reflect the earthy tones of fall. His face was marked with the deep lines of a life full of experiences, each one seeming to tell its own tale. A wispy white hair tinged with silver framed a face worn from years of wisdom and laughter.

In addition to his well-groomed beard that matched the color of his hair, he had a lifetime of observation and understanding evident in the soft intensity of his eyes, which were warm but faded pools of honey. His smile was pleasant as he greeted her.

"I took care of the garden, read, and painted. The roses are really progressing fairly nicely. One day, you should give them a look. Your mind would be relieved of all this...weariness." Ivy stopped short of completing the phrase, giving John a melancholy little smile while a twinge of guilt seized her heart. She hurried to John's side and guided him into the room's tiny, cozy chair. Her eyes met his weary ones with tears. She felt so deeply sorry for him since he was working himself like a machine doing who knows what.

And it was all her fault, for he was protecting her. John gave a sigh. They had discussed it numerous times before, but it appeared that Ivy's unjustified guilt was eating away at her more and more each day. John clasped Ivy's slender hands in his. She had warm, silky skin. His worried gaze pierced her weeping eyes. "Ivy, you are not at fault. I would do it all over again if I could go back. The Witches Council has just been throwing me countless orders recently, but nothing that I can't handle. I'm fine. Protecting you will always be my choice."

A single tear trickled down her cheek. He would say that, of course, Ivy thought. John tenderly patted her head and wiped the tear away. She laughed a little and sniffed. "Now..." With his gentle gaze fixed on her, John extended his hands in the direction of the window. A rose drifted toward them slowly and eventually landed in his hand.

Even with anything as small as that, Ivy was enthralled every time John, a strong witch, used his magic. Just by a mere glance at John, one could tell that he was very powerful. Ivy was never able to witness many otherworldly beings-or any at all. John smelled the rose; a soothing sigh escaped from his lips. "It is lovely indeed." Gently, he placed it into her hair. "But it looks much better here."

Ivy smiled. John always knew how to cheer her up. "Now look what I have bought for you isn't it just lovely?" John smiled and reached inside his coat to get a small golden harp. He handed it to Ivy, who gasped as her eyes sparkled. She gave him a firm embrace, which he returned. "It's lovely, John; thank you." John had promised to get her a new one when her previous one had shattered accidentally. She adored this one since it was much more beautiful than the previous, resembling something out of a fairy tale.