Noah screamed in agony as he embraced himself on a cold marble floor. His eyes were dry of tears but were red with soreness. The boy let out howls of pain, digging his nails upon his arm. He felt a boiling heat in his blood and a throbbing ache on his chest. His body filled with tremors of excruciating pain.
"We're sorry, Prince. This is the only way to sustain your body." A familiar voice had said. Noah opened his eyelids slowly, and with the blur slowly fading away, he saw a worried face of a man.
Julian Ortfalcon. Sheila's father. He was standing a few meters away from him, with twelve magicians of the palace holding their staves. This is the point where Noah realized he was lying in the middle of a magic circle, located at the sacred ground of the palace. He felt dizzy, pained, and disoriented; but he noticed several things: the purple vines were growing, meaning that a malevolent force is trying to win against the good.
Hexagrams appeared on his skin. Different types of magical circles that varied from origin—Noah cannot see anything but he felt the lines being engraved on his skin like knives piercing the flesh. He felt no blood escaping the probable wounds the line had left, but they doubled the already severe pain Noah was experiencing.
An approximate of nine magical circles were engraved in Noah's body. The white noise became static, and then it slowly got clearer in his ears. The magicians were chanting unknown verses and somewhat sounded ancient. He could not discern any longer when the chanting grew louder.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Three thuds of staves in unison generated a powerful circle similar to a barrier enclosing Noah. And then it binds him. The child screamed in pain as it grew smaller and found its way into his chest, ripping his bloodied clothes apart. It revealed his chest with a hexagram and a pentagram with eight numbers—and as the magical circle bonded itself on the seal, another number was added.
𝖎𝖝. IX
The circle on Noah's chest was changing in appearance, akin to a gear shifting.
He could not hear the words that are being chanted any longer. The face of his mother and the smiling face of his father flashed before his eyes,
Along with a smile of a baby girl who was never given the chance to be given life.
**
"That's horrible." The duchess says, covering her quivering lips.
The entirety of the room was in a deafening silence. The duke remained in an observing manner, while the Feuerlon brothers seemed to be in complete shock. Orwell Lotheringwood felt a shiver run down her spine the moment Sheila finished telling the story about the king's past. This story has connected several dots that made no sense in previous studies regarding the origins of the Opus.
"Nine seals appeared on the king's chest," Orwell exclaims. "And that may be the indication that he must be the 9th of the kings bestowed with an ability to use the Opus."
"Is it because the Warlock had cast a spell to make the king use the Opus?"
"Maybe it's because the king is a reincarnation of the first king, as others had said?"
"Unfortunately, you are all incorrect," Sheila says, interrupting the murmurs. "First of all, the seals are different. They are not the indication that he is the ninth king who can use the Opus. Secondly, he is not the great Octavius' reincarnation."
"Then what is it? That is how far we could deduce." Orwell retorts.
Sheila sighed. "As you can see, my story went on like this: The king awakened the potential to use the Opus because of the murder of his family—a murder committed by an infamous Warlock whose name I will not speak of here. That Warlock saw the potential in the king already, meaning that he was destined to use the Opus sooner or later. But the Warlock casted a spell and made the king be cursed."
"Cursed?"
"What the magical circle in the king's chest are not signs of him being the ninth king," Sheila exclaims. "It is the symptom that he is cursed with Nightmare."
Silence.
"But Nightmare is subjected to only royal families, and we know nothing of it." Orwell retorts. The others seemed to approve, all looking at Sheila with ambiguity. "We do not understand you fully, priestess."
The corner of Sheila's lips curved to a smile.
"The curse of Nightmare is to bind the souls of predecessors to the body of the new one to possess a vast amount of prowess." Sheila answers. "Hence the eight seals… signifying souls of the previous kings who possessed the ability to use the Opus…"
"What?"
Orwell's eyes widened, staring in complete shock.
"Then…"
"Nightmare is a disease that lets the souls of previous generations to possess the body." Sheila slowly says, smiling as she speaks. "The curse of the ancestor of the Forsaken: Jonathan Unsterblich!"