Chapter 10: The Dragon Witch (Origin)

“My name is Petra Romée. As I said, most of my childhood was me being stuck in the deepest corners of the slums. My life was dark and dirty, both literally and figuratively. I tricked and stole to survive. Even in the slums, I was the most hated. They told me I was the descendant of a believer. I didn’t, and still don’t even know what they meant by that. Who cares about someone who died thousands of years ago? Why did they have to take it out on me?

I always asked the others that, but they never answered me. Instead, I was always the one to pay for the crimes committed by the adults. I was constantly bullied by the kids. I was shunned even by the people I called family. It was a living hell, back in the day. But I truly thought things would eventually change for the better. And then, one day, I thought my wish came true. I met … him.

He was but a boy my age, with shining golden hair, big blue eyes, and a smile bright as the sun. By his clothing, I could tell he came from a noble’s house.

With a carefree attitude and a joyful outlook, one would think there had to be a reason a boy like him bothered to go to this wretched place and buy stuff from here. However, as strange as it might be, I was drawn to him before I even realized it. Seeing his carefree attitude as he took a gander at the various goods in the stalls, I thought I could steal something of value from him and make a quick getaway. I was quickly caught, however, by the owner of the stall. I really thought I was dead once they grabbed hold of my wrist. However, as I was preparing for the worst, he came and said:

‘I’m terribly sorry for what she did, sir. Please, let me pay for what she took, I promise to discipline her later.’

‘Your slave, I assumed?’’ The owner asked suspiciously.

‘Yes.’”

 

‘Don’t cry, it would be a waste to see a face as beautiful as yourself get sullied.’ Those were the first words that boy said to me.

‘Who are you? And why did you protect me?’ Naturally, I was suspicious. Especially considering that I didn’t even shed a single tear throughout the ordeal.

‘I am Pierre, a noble in training. I was tasked to see the lives of the people with my own eyes today and couldn’t stand the injustice that I saw.’

‘But I was stealing… There’s nothing wrong with me being punished.’

‘Nonsense! From your looks, I can tell you’re from the slums. What’s wrong with people trying to survive in this world? This is the fault of us nobles for failing to take care of you, not because of you or your origins!’

I was fooled by his tears back then. For the first time in my life, I saw someone cry for us, for our tragic fate. He talked nonsense afterwards, about how there were no inferior beings, or how people shouldn’t be segregated or treated unfairly based on their birth. Yet, I knew those were his ‘true’ thoughts, his ‘true’ feelings. It still gives me chills to this day, how someone can fake their emotions so well that it became the truth. He was sincere throughout, enough to give hope even to someone who hadn’t known of the sun her entire life like me. He then asked me:

‘Please, take me to the slums! I have to see it with my own eyes! Then I can think of a way to help you all, to show you the sun once more!’

I was completely deceived. I took him to my quarters, but it wasn’t easy. People tried to rob us, beat us, and some even wanted to kill us. Yet, his demeanor didn’t change one bit during the trip. Still that bright outlook, that carefree yet fearless smile, he did something unimaginable to us: he talked things out, and gave all of us hope, hope for a house to stay in, for food to eat, for clothes to wear, for a better tomorrow. He inspired us to stand proud on our own two feet and to strive for a bright future.

And we all believed him like the fools we were. For the next few days, he frequently visited us and brought us things no one could even dream of. He brought food and clothes, materials to fix houses, taught us various skills, from construction for the men, to sewing and pottery for the women, and even taught the kids how to read and write. His kindness knew no bound to us, almost to a frightening point. But then all came out too clear. One day, I stumbled upon this cross.

It was too easy to be considered a steal, now that I think about it. The owner basically threw it away in the trash, and I just happened to come across it. As if mesmerized by its beauty, I took it back with me, and naturally, I showed it to him on his next visit:

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‘Pierre, look what I found!’

‘What a beautiful cross! Where did you find it?’

‘I… found it lying on the road.’ I thought he would be angry if I told him that I stole it, so I told what I thought would be a little white lie. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized it might have been too obvious.

‘Is that so…’ I should have noticed something was wrong there. He didn’t react to it at all.

For the next few days, he was as friendly as ever, and he continued to fill us with hopes and dreams. However, just when I least expected it, it happened.

Thanks to his help, I was actually able to get a real job, and I could finally think about living my life like a real person. However, little did I know that was my final moment of happiness.

That day, when I returned to the slums from work, I saw it. The entire area was burning like a giant torch, yet there was a strange lack of human voices. Too quiet. I was worried about the people still stuck inside, so I rushed in despite the danger to check if there were any survivors. And before my eyes was a scene I’d never forget: corpses lying around all over the place, blood and body parts spilled everywhere. On top of those corpses was him, standing motionless and emotionless. I was truly shocked. I thought he was also shocked from seeing the scene, so I tried to call out to him, to ask him what happened. Yet, he remained silent. I tried and tried again but received no answers. As I was about to give up and just grab him to run away, he shook off my hand, and with a sorrowful expression, he uttered:

‘I’m sorry…’

And hit me in the gut. Shocked, I asked:

‘Why, Pierre?’

Gone was his dreadful face, I only saw a sadistic smile and maniacal eyes. He then kept saying in a sad, mourning voice:

‘Because you people needed to be eliminated.’

I didn’t remember what happened afterwards; the next thing I knew, I was lying on a burnt street, this thing in my hand. And then it all came to me. I was sad that I lost a friend, sad that I lost a home, but most of all, I hated. I hated him for deceiving me, I hated myself for leading him in, and I hated people for actually believing his words. When I was drowning myself in hatred, the cross resonated with me, and I became what I am today. I searched; I stole again, but not for survival anymore. I lived to find him, to exact my revenge.”

“And in the end,” Petra concludes her story. “I thought I saw his figure flying towards the port city, so I chased after him. Unfortunately, I got caught by the Angels, and was being transported to this place when I saw you.”

“My, my. What a touching tale. Can you tell me more about it?” A voice suddenly sounds from the other side of the bars.

A young man with shining golden hair, big blue eyes, and a pair of majestic wings walks through the door. From his appearance, I know this spells trouble. As the man bearing a striking resemblance to me approaches us, he lets out a charming smile and said:

“What, no more? Shame… I don’t think you’d ignore me. And after all that time we spent together, I must say I’m hurt, my dear Petra.”

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