The midday sun cast long shadows over the academy courtyard as a gleaming silver carriage arrived at the gates.
Its polished surface reflected the light like a mirror, and the crest of the Holy Knights—a radiant golden starburst surrounded by intricate runes—was emblazoned on the doors.
The gates swung open with a low groan, and all eyes turned to the carriage. From within emerged a tall figure clad in shining plate armor.
His cape, embroidered with golden thread, flowed gently in the breeze, and his helm bore the mark of the Empire's divine order. This was Sir Cedric, one of the Holy Knights, famed for his ability to dispel the most insidious of curses.
As he stepped forward, another figure emerged from the carriage. His stride was confident, his dark cloak billowing slightly as his sharp silver-streaked hair caught the sunlight. His presence exuded authority and composure—Lord Draymir, Mikel's grandfather.
The crowd of students gathered at a distance, their hushed whispers carrying curiosity and awe.
Lord Draymir's gaze scanned the courtyard until it fell on Mikel. His sharp features softened, and he approached his grandson with deliberate steps.
"Mikel," he said, his voice deep and warm. "It's been far too long."
"Grandfather," Mikel murmured, his voice barely audible. He hesitated, unsure of what to say, before Draymir pulled him into a brief but firm embrace.
"You've faced more than any child should," Draymir said as he stepped back, his piercing eyes studying Mikel. "But you are a Draymir. Resilience is in your blood."
Mikel nodded mutely, his throat tightening as his grandfather turned to address the others.
"You have my gratitude," Draymir said, his gaze sweeping over Lyra, Fiona, Rurik, and Talin. "For standing by my grandson when he needed you most."
The group murmured polite responses, though Fiona kept her arms crossed, her expression wary.
The headmaster stepped forward to greet the newcomers. "Sir Cedric, Lord Draymir, we are grateful for your presence. The matter we face is dire."
Cedric inclined his head. "The message I received was clear. Show me these cursed artifacts."
Eldric led the group into the academy's main hall, where the dagger and amulet rested on a pedestal surrounded by protective wards. Despite the barriers, the oppressive aura emanating from the objects was palpable, making the air feel heavy and cold.
Cedric approached the artifacts, his gauntleted hand hovering above the dagger. The runes etched into his armor flared faintly as he examined the items.
"This is no ordinary curse," he said, his tone grim. "These artifacts bear the taint of the Whisperer—a remnant of the evil factions we thought long vanquished. Its energy is dark, insidious, and tied to despair."
He turned to the group. "Did anyone come into direct contact with these?"
Lyra stepped forward. "Mikel and I carried them briefly before handing them to the professors."
Cedric's eyes narrowed slightly, and he nodded. "Then the taint may have touched you as well. We must purify both the artifacts and those who bore their weight."
Sir Cedric removed his helm and placed it on a nearby table. His chiseled features and calm eyes betrayed no hint of hesitation as he raised his hands, golden light pooling around his gauntlets.
He began chanting in a deep, resonant voice, his words flowing in an ancient tongue:
"Lux sacra, lumen caelorum, expelle tenebras iniquitatis.
Purga hoc malum; refove animas afflictas."
(The sacred light, the light of the heavens, expel the darkness of wickedness. Purge this evil; restore the afflicted souls.)
The air around him shimmered as a radiant glow enveloped the artifacts. The oppressive hum of the dagger and amulet grew louder, resisting the purification with dark tendrils of mist that lashed out against the golden light.
Cedric raised his voice, his chant growing more forceful:
"Auris divina, vincula solveris; in lumine tuo libertatem invenimus!"
(The divine ear hears, the chains are broken; in your light, we find freedom!)
The golden light intensified, wrapping around the artifacts like vines. The dark tendrils hissed and writhed as they were pulled from the objects, dissipating into the air with a final, piercing wail.
As Cedric's chanting continued, the light expanded, washing over Mikel and Lyra. Both staggered as a sudden, sharp pressure built in their chests.
Mikel clutched his heart, his knees buckling as faint whispers echoed in his mind: You thought you could escape me? You thought you could be free?
Lyra winced, her golden eyes narrowing as she fought off the nauseating wave of darkness surging through her body.
"Steady yourselves," Cedric commanded, his voice firm.
Draymir stepped closer, placing a supportive hand on Mikel's shoulder. "Breathe, boy," he said quietly. "You are stronger than this."
Cedric raised his hands higher, his chant reaching a crescendo:
"Umbrae devoratae, lux triumpha! Fiat purgatio sempiterna!"
(The shadows are devoured, light triumphs! Let eternal cleansing be done!)
The golden light erupted in a final burst, consuming the lingering darkness around Mikel and Lyra. The oppressive whispers fell silent, and the weight pressing down on them lifted abruptly.
Mikel gasped, his chest heaving as he collapsed to his knees. Lyra staggered but remained standing, her body trembling with the release of the curse.
"It is done," Cedric said, lowering his hands. The light faded, leaving the room quiet once more.
Cedric stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the group. "The taint is removed, but its scars may linger. Be vigilant. Evil like this does not fade so easily."
Mikel looked up at him, his expression filled with relief and exhaustion. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse.
Draymir helped Mikel to his feet, his grip steady and reassuring. "You've endured more than most ever will," he said. "But you are still here. That is what matters."
Cedric placed a hand on the pedestal where the artifacts now rested, their energy completely inert. "These items will be sent to the Empire's vaults for safekeeping. They must never be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."
Eldric nodded solemnly. "We are grateful for your assistance, Sir Cedric. Your efforts have spared us a great deal of danger."
As the group prepared to leave, Draymir turned to Mikel, his gaze steady.
"You carry the weight of what happened, but that weight does not define you," he said. "Strength lies not in avoiding failure, but in rising from it. Leon would want you to honor his memory by moving forward."
Mikel nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill but remaining unshed.
Draymir then addressed the group as a whole. "You have faced something few could endure. Let this experience forge you into something greater. Together, you are stronger than you realize."
The group exchanged hesitant glances, some comforted by his words, others still struggling to process the events.