Chapter 51

1. Silent Song Blood poured out into a puddle so large it made her wonder how her body could have housed that much liquid. She was already numb to the pain and couldn’t figure it out. She had cast an anesthetizing spell but wasn’t certain whether it was still in effect. As everything grew fuzzy, she tipped her head up. Moonlight illuminated the horrific scene in the castle courtyard. The garden trees were ripped apart; giant holes dotted the ground. A row of stone pillars had all toppled. One was half smashed to bits, and Tinasha was slumped up against the remaining portion. It was a disastrous sight, like a vicious storm had swept through. However, the courtyard was entirely silent. That was because a clear victor had emerged, and now Tinasha had to decide what to do with her final moments. She looked down at her flank, which was partially gouged away. “…Karr… Mila…,” she said, calling for her mystical spirits. Yet no one answered. It had been that way for a while. A man had forced all twelve spirits to surrender. Tinasha hoped they were still alive, at the very least. She was their master, and if she died, the twelve would be freed. Maybe they could even escape. That thought was a comfort. Tinasha took a shuddering breath, smelling blood. “…Oscar.” Speaking his name out loud brought on a stabbing pain in her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip. Suddenly, someone appeared in front of Tinasha. “Who were you calling for? Do you still have someone coming to save you?” a man questioned with a sneer. This was the very person who had defeated Tinasha and her spirits with his overwhelming power. His choice to do so had been bereft of motive or reason. Crushing them beneath his heel had sounded fun, so he had. He was like death personified. Tinasha gave a weak laugh. “No one is coming to rescue me… The person I called for doesn’t exist in this time.” Oscar, who had saved her when she was young, didn’t exist anywhere. He had disappeared—the price of his choice to rescue her. In the five years since, Tinasha had governed her country fastidiously…only to come to this frightful end now. The woman was hailed as the strongest queen, but ultimately there was someone even greater than she. Her lips curled in a self-deprecating smile, and the man gave her a suspicious look. “Doesn’t exist in this time? What does that mean?” “What good would it do to answer you? I was just reminiscing to myself,” she said, closing her eyes as she took shallow breaths. A smile spread across the beautiful inhuman man’s face to see her in such a low state. “Tell me. I came here to play with you. We’re here together now, so entertain me a little.” She slept. She kept sleeping. Very, very deeply and dreamlessly. She heard grass stirring—and the babbling of a little brook. These parts of the miniature garden remained unchanged no matter how much time passed. They just went on existing, like a secret paradise. No, not a paradise—a fragment of a fantasy. A box for her to go on dreaming in, locked up tight and unable to be touched by anyone. So for now, she was simply in a slumber of nothingness, until the day came for things to start over. Waiting for a certain someone. It was his first visit to this country. The landscape had a sort of polish he was unfamiliar with. The white walls of the stores and houses on the streets weren’t that extraordinary on their own, but a closer inspection revealed that magical sigils and markings were carved into the facades, doorplates, and signboards. The shop windows facing the street were plated not with glass, but with thin, filmy water. Curious, he reached out to touch one and stared as his fingers slipped right through it. “It really is water. How interesting.” “In this country, it’s cheaper to use magic implements that can put up water films than see-through glass,” explained the male mage accompanying him, grimacing as the young man shook his wet fingers dry. The young man craned his neck to look all around. “Tuldarr, the nation of magic…” The people going about the main thoroughfare were wearing clothes that one could’ve found on display in any neighboring country. However, for every ten citizens, there was one sporting a robe made of magical material characteristic of this land. If all who donned such garments truly were mages, that meant Tuldarr was home to far more mages than any other nation. The young man was full of rapt curiosity. Behind him trudged his attendant, a childhood friend. Unlike the high-spirited young man, this fellow appeared downcast and despondent. “I don’t feel good about this, Your Highness…” “What’s wrong? And you know I don’t like being called that.” “Don’t speak of such trifling things now,” grumbled the worn-out attendant. The young man turned around to give his companion an exasperated look. At twenty-one, he was the crown prince of the Great Nation of Farsas. His well-proportioned, tall physique and gorgeous looks drew attention naturally; the people passing by on the road had been looking back to sneak glances for a while now. Cool and composed, the prince replied, “You insisted that we not travel to where the witch lives, so we came here instead. Could you try acting a little less dour?” “Yes, I did say that! But why did you carry Akashia with you? What will happen if someone interprets it as a sign of hostility?” “I just wanted to have it. To be on the safe side,” the prince replied flatly. His attendant hung his head, dejected, and a mage clapped him on the shoulder. “Give up, Lazar. We’re already here.” “I don’t know how this happened…,” whined Lazar. Then he looked up and beheld a royal palace constructed of alabaster stone. They were in Tuldarr, the country known as the Magic Empire that boasted to possess superior technology and power. To disguise his royal status, the prince was dressed simply in a lightweight outfit. He patted his chest. “It’s all right. We’ve got the letter of introduction I had my father write.” “You should have said as much sooner! I thought we were barging in entirely unannounced!” cried Lazar. “Well, we are. I only decided to come here yesterday,” admitted the prince. Lazar twitched. “We should have at least made an advance appointment!” Ignoring the two friends who were caught up in their usual back-and-forth, the mage who was traveling with them headed for the castle gate and addressed a guard there. After a while, they seemed to reach an agreement, and he turned back. “Your Highness, we’ve been granted permission. Let’s go in.” “Thanks, Doan,” said the prince. “I do have a bit of influence here…,” replied Doan, who had studied abroad in the Tuldarr royal palace to learn magic. Although that was two years ago, he still knew many here, which was why he was chosen to come along. After bowing to his lord, Doan took his place behind him. His eyes on the prince, he murmured in a low voice, “I do hope this helps one way or another…” Doan recalled the story of the prince’s curse he’d heard on the journey here. A frightful hex had been placed on the prince by a witch. “Cursed never to sire an heir.” The prince was an only child, and the foul magic ensorcelling him doomed any woman who became pregnant with his child to die before giving birth. As if that wasn’t bad enough, widespread child abductions had struck Farsas fifteen years ago, leaving the kingdom with no other direct heirs in the royal lineage. To leave the curse unbroken was tantamount to accepting the extinction of the royal line. In the past fifteen years, no method of breaking the hex had been discovered. One had to wonder if even Tuldarr was capable of this feat. It was true enough that Tuldarr excelled above any other country in all matters magical. However, that was in terms of the country as a whole. On an individual level, even the king of Tuldarr couldn’t compare to any of the three witches. A fact that spoke to how overwhelmingly mighty the trio was. They were living calamities. The only way to guard against a disaster caused by one of them would be to never get involved with them to begin with. Still, Doan couldn’t help but cling to even the faintest bit of hope, for dealing with a witch meant despair. Though their arrival was sudden, King Calste of Tuldarr showed them to one of the halls immediately. That was most likely due to the letter of introduction, which came from the king of the neighboring country. Calste welcomed the guests with a bright smile. He was around the same age as the king of Farsas and a good deal younger than the rulers of other nations. He had a mild demeanor and a gentle countenance that exuded intelligence. Upon hearing of the curse, Calste’s face darkened as he gazed at the prince. “I understand the gist of the situation. I should tell you that not every curse can be broken.” Calste launched into a short explanation of how curses worked. The takeaway was that it was impossible to undo a curse placed by a spell caster on the level of a witch. While Lazar looked white as a sheet, the prince listened with a placid expression. It was as if he was about to say, In that case, let’s swing by the witch’s place, then. Doan massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Calste concluded his lesson on hexes solemnly. “…And so it’s theoretically conceivable that if you had a child with a woman in possession of very strong magical powers, she might be able to withstand the birth.” “I see. I’ll take that into consideration,” the prince responded easily. Calste looked more sorrowful about it than the prince did, but then the king noticed the longsword Lazar was holding. His eyes grew wide. “Is that…?” “Yes, I’m very sorry. I always have it with me. This is the blade Akashia, the one passed down in Farsas,” answered the prince. Lazar shot his friend a glare that clearly said This is why I told you to leave it at home, but the prince ignored it completely. After Calste pondered for a bit, he seemed to reach some sort of decision and got to his feet. “I can’t do anything about that curse, but there may be a solution. Still, the chances are low…” The three Farsasians exchanged puzzled glances, not sure exactly what he meant. The king guided them deeper into the castle, where the group then descended several flights of stairs. Finally, they came to a long underground passage. After walking it for a considerable amount of time, the group arrived at a large stone hall. The sprawling oval-shaped chamber contained a ring of eleven statues. Doan looked around at the sculptures, which resembled neither human nor beast, and then gasped in awe. “It can’t be… Are these the mystical spirits of Tuldarr?” “Indeed. The spirits who are not under the employ of the king exist here in statue form. I’m ashamed to admit that for the past hundred years, no ruler has been able to use the spirits, including myself. Once, the strongest mage in Tuldarr ruled the country, but now the throne is inherited through royal bloodlines, and the king’s magic is no longer quite that exceptional,” explained Calste with a self-deprecating smile. He spoke of it so modestly for a ruler. Perhaps he had an inferiority complex about his own abilities. Feeling somewhat awkward, Doan nodded as he counted the number of statues. “…Isn’t one missing?” he whispered. Since Tuldarr’s founding, there had always been twelve mystical spirits for its royalty to call upon. Yet there were only eleven statues in the chamber. If the king wasn’t using any, then where had the twelfth one gone? Doan puzzled over this silently but thought he really couldn’t pry deeper. Meanwhile, Calste continued farther in. He passed the center of the room and went over to a door in the far rear. It was exactly opposite the one they entered from. Small and wrought of white stone, intricate magical markings were carved onto its face. The king of Tuldarr turned back to address the trio from Farsas. “This is as far as I can show you. No one has gone beyond this point in a very long time now.” “Ah… Why is that?” asked Oscar. “I’m not sure. I can only say it’s because no one has been invited. Therefore, the solution to your curse may also exist beyond this point,” Calste stated vaguely, which puzzled the prince from Farsas. He checked to make sure Akashia was belted at his waist. Because the king had showed them to this door after seeing Akashia, it was possible that dangerous magical traps lay ahead. The bearer of the royal sword, the only weapon in the entire land that could neutralize all magic, glanced at Calste with some faint misgivings. “I apologize, but why are you going so far for us? While my curse is serious, this is a foreign country’s affair.” Calste gave a weak smile in response to the prince’s very direct question. Moving a step to the side of the door, he gazed at its intricate markings. “That’s a good question. If you’re able to proceed past this point, our country may reap the benefits, too. In short, what comes next may benefit us both.” What the king said seemed plausible enough, but there were some holes in his reasoning. While the prince maintained his suspicions, he nodded and went right up to the door. Ultimately, the only way to know if this was worth the trouble was to try. Curiosity piqued, the prince pressed on the white door. A light shock ran through his palm. But it soon vanished, like snow melting. The door opened the rest of the way on its own, and he stepped in without any hesitation. Lazar and Doan hurried to follow after their lord. However, an invisible wall repelled them. “What?!” “Ugh…” Lazar fell on his behind, while Doan faltered but remained standing. Their prince turned back to look at them with wide eyes. “What are you two doing?” “What are we doing? Didn’t you feel anything, Your Highness?” retorted Lazar. The prince had passed without incident. Doan reached out cautiously to touch the barrier between him and his prince. Sure enough, there was an invisible force there preventing anyone from trespassing. “I don’t see any sort of spell here… It must be a magical barrier,” Doan concluded. “…I thought so,” murmured Calste, his unease showing on his face a little. He eyed the man on the other side of the door. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but be careful.” “I will bear that in mind,” said the prince, before starting down the long corridor. The farther he got from the door, the darker it became. After a while, he finally sighted a pinprick of light far in the distance and arrived at a new door. Just like the other, it was made of an alabaster material and engraved with markings. Keeping his hand on Akashia, the prince pushed open the door. Bright light spilled into the hallway. Narrowing his eyes against the blinding luminance, he eventually made out that he was in a space even larger and more cavernous than the chamber of statues. The ceiling was very tall, and there was no furniture in the vast square room. In the middle of it, a giant red dragon lay curled up asleep on the gray flagstones. “What the…?” said the prince, naturally shocked to see a dragon occupying at least half the room. As if that wasn’t incredible enough, a girl with red hair was sitting on top of the creature, reading a book. The whole spectacle was far beyond what the prince had anticipated, and the man stood rooted to the spot in astonishment. The girl popped her head up, noticing the visitor. Her eyes were the same shade as her hair. Her beautiful face didn’t match her age, and her expression betrayed no emotion. Something about her was certainly strange, and the prince wondered what it was. “Hmm, you’re a year early. Still, I guess if you’re here, that means it’s time,” she declared, closing her book before artlessly slapping the dragon’s head. “Nark! Wake up! I can’t identify him!” she cried. In response to her pats, the dragon slowly lifted its head. The girl leaped off its back in a way that suggested she was weightless. The dragon’s huge eyelids opened to reveal eyes like a pair of flames that gazed at the prince. “…Ah!” cried the prince, drawing Akashia reflexively. He never expected a dragon to be sleeping underneath the castle. Even though he possessed the royal sword, his whole body tensed up as he nervously wondered if he could fight there without an escape route. After gazing at him for a time, the dragon suddenly contorted itself. In a flash, it shrank to the size of a hawk and flew to him with a spirited cry. The prince had thought he would have to cut the dragon down, but it didn’t appear hostile in the least. Hesitantly, the prince held out his left hand, and the dragon used it to land on his shoulder. It rubbed against his head just like a cat, and the girl burst out laughing. “Oh, so it really is you? That’s fine, then. Go ahead.” As though in response to her voice, a door appeared in the wall on the far side of the chamber. The prince gasped to see a third white door. “What are you?” he asked the strange young woman. “What are you doing here?” Her looks and behavior made it clear she was more than a regular human. That she was present in this sealed-off place was already strange, and the prince still felt very much on guard. The girl gave a light shrug. “I’m just a sentry. It doesn’t matter who I am, does it?” She moved over to the door, then knelt down in a theatrical fashion. “Go on in. You are, after all, the one and only greatest treasure in the world.” “…Greatest treasure?” the prince repeated. None of this was adding up. The prince felt as if each twist and turn was more mystifying than the last. But like the dragon, the girl didn’t seem hostile toward him at all. Though still suspicious, he continued to the next door as the young woman had instructed. The entrance opened all on its own, without so much as a touch. Beyond it, he could see a lush green garden. “What…?” The soft light pouring in looked exactly the same as the light aboveground. A carpet of luxuriant grass coated the wide room as far as the eye could see; it was dotted here and there with trees laden with bright-green leaves. Unable to believe his eyes, the man stepped forward. A white wall extended from the doorway, but it quickly disappeared into the verdant flora. It looked like a garden one could find on the surface, captured inside a white box. The prince could hear a stream babbling from somewhere unseen. A gentle breeze whooshed past, and he muttered in shock, “What is this place…?” He would have taken it for a magic illusion, but the feel of the grass underfoot was undeniably real. The wind rustled a gauzelike canopy beyond the trees. That was clearly something fabricated by human hands. Is that a bed? the prince thought doubtfully, cautiously venturing farther into the garden. As he approached it, he could see enough to identify that it really was a bed. Akashia in hand, he came up to stand before the white thing. Nervously, he parted the gauzelike curtains and then gasped. A young woman slept upon the sheets. She looked to be about eighteen. Her silky, glossy long black hair fanned out across the linens. Long eyelashes cast faint shadows on her porcelain skin. Her nose was high and elegant, her lips red and dainty. The woman’s features were as delicate as a sculptor’s finest masterpiece. She was utterly beautiful. It was the prince’s first time seeing a woman who left such an impression on him. He felt disappointed that her eyes were closed; he wished to know what color they were. The woman’s cheeks were ivory, but they weren’t bloodless and pale. He scrutinized her form, curious to know if she was alive, and noticed that beneath her white dress, her chest was rising and falling. Staring at her, the prince sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know if he should rouse her, or if she would wake on her own. Yet he understood that this place existed solely for her. In that case, perhaps she held the key to breaking the curse. She might even be the woman with the power to bear his child who Calste had mentioned. The prince reached out a hand and touched her cheek. Warmth from her skin leaped into his fingertips. He gave the woman a light pat but withdrew his hand when he noticed her eyelashes stirring. Very slowly, she opened her eyes. Over and over, her eyelashes fluttered up and down, revealing deep-black eyes, a color darker than night. The ebony there was like an abyss. After those orbs darted around, they landed on the prince. These are the eyes of one with a strong will. He was a little surprised by that. The woman stretched out her lithe frame, as absentmindedly as if she were still dreaming, then used her arms to lever herself upright on the bed. Her gaze had never left the prince. He didn’t know what to say. The mere sight of the darkness in her eyes had trapped him. She sat up, then extended her supple alabaster arms out toward him. The prince hesitated over whether to shake her off, but he was distracted by how excited the dragon on his shoulder was.