The pale crescent moon shone like a silver claw in the infinite night sky, casting its shadow upon the river canal. It was a serene time when the soft breezes played with a wind-chime nearby.
"We shouldn't be here,"
Jeremiah yawned as he leaned over the garden bridge, his heavy eyes watching the river gently flow.
"It's been a long time since Saint Azure told us about the cure, yet instead of looking for it...we are focusing on this senseless war," he murmured.
Izekiel glanced at him.
"Senseless?"
"With the cure, his majesty can simply prove to the council and the world that there he has no dark magic," Jeremiah closed his sleepy eyes.
There were still many accusations against Izekiel, he didn't bother about them but when he thought about curing his curse...a dangerous thought invaded his mind.
What if it was not a curse?
