Demon King

CH- 07: Misconceptions...

 Debbie awoke to a swollen cheek, her mind still enchanted by dreams of being a princess with fairies swirling around her head. In her dream, she found herself reprimanding Mary for her perceived insolence.

In the dream, the slap unfolded as a straightforward disagreement, a moment where Mary defied Debbie's command. However, the impact resonated with a sharp sting, almost as if it were a genuine slap.

"Kneel, you wretched witch," commanded Debbie, and this time, in both her dream and reality, Mary delivered a genuine slap.

"SMACK!"

Debbie bounced off the forest floor, settling onto her knees. Her gaze fixated on Mary through a haze of swelling. Her vision struggled to stabilize, details flickering in and out of focus. Each shake from Mary and every beam of sunlight piercing her eyes brought new fragments of clarity.

She realizes, for some reason, that she has slept all alone in the forest for the entire day.

"Did the mist take your brains with it?" Mary yelled at Debbie.

Debbie shook her head, displeased with the unfolding dream. "Show me the first one," she groaned, only to witness another approaching slap before everything turned black once again.

"What do I do with this girl?" Mary sighed and concealed Debbie within a heap of leaves. With another pressing matter at hand, carrying a little girl would only escalate the danger.

After offering a small prayer, Mary ventured deeper into the forest, hoping no one would discover her or Debbie. She soon reached the spot where Ric lay unconscious and meticulously inspected the area. As she suspected, a pool of blood saturated the ground. After further examination, she returned, carrying Debbie in her arms.

"Intentional," Mary muttered, fury evident in her eyes.

Mary also feared that, upon learning about her visit, her children might initiate efforts to reclaim their lost lands. She did not comprehend the intricacies of worlds, nor the reasons behind the Fea's retreat, but she firmly believed that no one withdraws without intending to strike at a later date.

Her children, the people, clung to the miracle, their hope bolstered by its presence. Unlike them, she didn't place her trust in an invisible shield.

Miracles and myths are double-edged blades; you never know which end swings first or doubles back for a second strike.

All of Mary's worries came true once they entered the town of Hope. This town didn't exist on any map; not even the citizens of Cathel perceived its existence, despite it enveloping the great walls of Cathel. The people and area around the walls were treated as discarded trash, and Mary renamed it hoping to instill hope—a myth for the citizens of Hope.

Mary prayed for the first edge, where everyone unites and fights for a better future, while simultaneously fearing the second edge, as it might bleed them dry and cripple them to a state where they never dare to venture out for hope.

The hundredth story finally drew the blade out of its scabbard, and the first blade was poised for sharpening.

Mary had awaited this moment all her life, but when it finally arrived, she could only see the second blade being sharpened alongside the first. After all, they were part of the same sword.

Power comes at a cost, so she chose freedom instead. Mary aspired to achieve victory without shedding a single drop of blood, whether it be the blood of her children or others.

In times of power, everyone labeled her as naïve, including her children. Yet, with age comes stubbornness, and Mary believed one has to find the right place to plant their sword to find freedom.