Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0020] - The Little King and the Mage

Drach

Noun

Translation: Dragon

Pronunciation: /'dʁax/

Definition: "Drach" signifies dragons, reptilian creature characterized by immense power, with the ability to fly, and mastery over elemental forces. The existence and nature of Drach stir significant debate among the Menschen, oscillating between views of them as mere creature or as Spirits. This dichotomy positions Drach at the intersection of fear and veneration, marking them as subjects of one of the realm's profound mysteries.

Cultural/Contextual Background: The societal structure of Drach is notably unique, operating similarly to hives with a central figure known as the Mother of Dragons. The primary objective of the Dragon Queen is to proliferate her species through the production of eggs, ensuring the continuity and dominance of Drach across the land, sea and sky. As of the current era, there exists only one known female dragon, Talathon Drach.

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"How dare you!" the Treant's voice resounded once more. It was a mighty rumble akin to trees swaying in a storm's grip, its foliage rustling, bark crackling with indignation.

Before Noctavia stood a giant, a sentient old tree with a humanoid form crafted by nature's patient hand, limbs stretched out like the branches of rugged oaks, and its roots splayed below, anchoring it firmly to the earth, the swamp's mud.

The bark that sheathed its body was thick and knotted. Within its face, two emerald eyes glowed like forest fires, and its countenance, though seemingly fixed by the grooves and lines of its bark, could express a depth of emotion.

Noctavia, undeterred by the Treant's booming admonition, stood her ground. "How dare I come to visit an old friend?"

The Treant's eyes, those deep wells of living green, flickered with a light that was at once ancient and childlike. "How dare you!" the Spirit repeated.

Noctavia, unfazed by the imposing figure, retreated from the water's edge to avoid the swamp's clammy kiss.

"How dare I?" she echoed back, her tone laced with genuine confusion as she regarded the Treant with a bemused tilt of her head. "What have I done to warrant such an ugly greeting?"

"You have forsaken me!" The accusation came from the Treant like a thunderclap, resonating through the leaves and bark.

"I have done nothing of the sort, and my presence here is the very evidence of that," Noctavia countered.

"Why not visit me sooner then?" the Treant pressed, its massive form exuding a sense of wounded pride.

"Since when does a Spirit have the notion of time?" Noctavia posed the question with a soft chuckle. "Would it make any difference if I came yesterday or come tomorrow? Aren't we still who we are regardless of the when?"

A hush fell upon the clearing, and in that quiet, Noctavia noticed the corners of the Treant's bark-like mouth curve into a semblance of a smile. "I missed you," it confessed, the rumbling tones softer now.

"And I you," she admitted, her earlier defiance melting away. "Indeed, I should have come by earlier. But I am here now and with a rather entertaining quest in mind."

"A quest?" The Treant's interest was piqued, the branches that formed its eyebrows lifting.

"Do you see that fellow over there? Chubby, short kid?" Noctavia gestured toward Xendrix, who stood a little ways off, frozen in time and oblivious to their conversation.