Lord Savart, Lord over the Cruceni stronghold of Ellipe, sat on a straight-back golden armchair emblazoned with velvet furnishings, at a velvet laid table.
The table seemed laid for breakfast, all dishes befitting of a royal family. Simply too numerous to mention.
Only for a family of five.
Presently, Savart conversed with Nymphadora, the sorceress who'd partook in the Prince-hunting. And his twin sister too.
She gave her feedback on the hunt with mixed feelings.
Her heavy cloak now lay on an empty seat in the room.
Savart's demeanor seemed more lively. A dark contrast to theperson who'd murdered his Head General hours ago.
"So…no trace of him?"
Nymphadora's eyes replied. She seemed too tired to speak, but she'd to explain.
"He dropped something, but it seemed too dangerous to search at that time. After breaking that blade – the Shadow Blade – and closing the Muthal portal, I could only stop myself from falling off my horse."
"How sure are you that it was the Shadow Blade that you broke?" Savart's voice bore a tint of pride in it.
Nymphadora flushed with pleasure. Savart rarely gave compliments even to her.
Nevertheless, she didn't hesitate to correct a false impression.
"It couldn't have being the real one, actually."
Savart's face fell, his eyebrows rising.
"It's a legend among sorcerers that the only spell that can break any blade crafted by a god, is soul-consuming. I'm not up to the rank required to break it yet", she explained.
Savart nodded understandingly. But skeptical gaze lingered.
"The sword may be a heirloom of the legendary Szen Incarnas bloodline, and that portal is also widely attributed to that same dynasty. So the blade has to have Incarnaian roots.
Also, I knew that boy isn't a force to be taken lightly. He seemed desperate, but his eyes…", her voice trailed away, laced with mild fear.
"Incarnaian heirloom?", Savart's brow furrowed in thought. "Isn't it something originating from the Shadow Realm? Then why's it called the Shadow Blade?"
Nymphadora shrugged nonchalantly, "Don't know…maybe slight confusions along the way…War and all that power tussles. "
"Were there any demonic techniques that he used?"
"Only a few, but we successfully evaded a few and deflected the rest. And I also realized something too."
"What?"
Nymphadora looked into her brother's eyes, gathering up courage to spill the unfortunate truth.
Savart noticed her hesitation and became more desperate. His fingers trembled subconsciously.
Nymphadora didn't notice. But fear flickered in her eyes, alongside tears.
"The Prince cursed me", Nymphadora finally let out a deep breath. "With the curse of the Inferi."
Savart's face fell, but some of the fear clouding his features vanished.
Nymphadora realized that he didn't quite comprehend the full gist.
"The curse of the Inferi is a curse that enhances your powers. It's something most people would long for, and can only be cast by the most powerful of Incarnian sorcerers.
Before I broke his sword, we had a flitting eye contact, and that's when he inadvertently did it.
Undoubtedly, his acclaimed legendary powers make such a feat unbelievably easy. This curse makes you more powerful magically."
Savart fell into a state of turmoil.
"Why call that a curse? It's a blessing!"
His voice sliced through the turmoil. Savart turned back to his sister in time to see a tear roll down her cheek.
"Are there any costs?"
"It drains one's life force, at a very astronomical rate", Nymphadora picked a goblet and surveyed it's content, to hide her face from Savart.
Her calm voice bore a polar opposite with her face.
Ignoring her brother's rapidly changing mood, she went on. "The more you use the enhanced powers, the faster your vital essence drains too."
"So this means –"
"That I have to stop using sorcery forever."
"Unless?"
"I will be dead in weeks", Nymphadora said morose. "Regardless of whether I use them or not, but abandoning them envisages the prospect of a slightly longer lifespan."
Savart stared at his twin's stricken face, trying to mask his emotions. As he should do. As a man and a king.
But he couldn't.
Ever since he lost his queen, Maris, to a hunting accident when their twins were four, he had decided not to remarry.
Sequel to that, Nymphadora became the closest person to him.
After that, Nymphadora had replaced the queen in the aspect of raising the girls.
But now, it seemed like he was about to lose her too.
"I will kill that brute", he swore fitfully, and slammed his hands on the table, rattling everything on it.
Trying hard to conceal his sorrow beneath a mask of fury, he added in a low growl, "Just let me get my hands on him."
"Don't throw yourself into a suicide attempt. Even enhanced with the Ace crystal, you'd almost be no match for him.
I could literally see his powersseeping out. He has not yet learnt to control his emotions, and his locket isn't doing much of a good job.
The cursing was surely not of his intentions; just out of demonic essence overflow."
"Don't be deceived by his innocent looks", Savart's face remained contorted, his eyes heavy. "They're all the same."
Nymphadora nodded in agreement. "They may all be the same, but a few tried to change their evil nature, and he's one of them."
"He may be a radical-thinking Prince", Savart shook his head angrily. His eyes bulged, his mouth trembling. "But if we are to ever meet, fair fortune be his."
He shook violently all over. From sorrow or anger, Nymphadora couldn't tell which.
She chuckled at his empty threat. "It might end up being yours", she corrected, finally taking a sip from the goblet.
"You're rooting up for him?", Savart couldn't believe his ears. "Has he bewitched you too?"
"I'm only trying to be realistic here, dear", Nymphadora dabbed at her cheek wiping the tear trail away. "What's done has been done. We can't reverse it."
Ignoring the sharp look of disdain her twin flashed at her, she reached out for a plate.
Savart's eyes flashed wildly, his hands balling into fists.
However, whatever he had wanted to say was interrupted by the arrival of his daughters.
Beth and Ilyana walked in, Ilyana narrating animatedly to a bored Beth.
Beth stopped for a while, to smile gracefully at the guard next to her and survey the breakfast table.
"Merry Morning, Father", she greeted, cutting off whatever Ilyana had been telling her.
The two sat, and began a very picky breakfast.
"Is that you, Aunt Dora?", Ilyana asked.
Mysteriously, they'd just only noticed her.
Nymphadora turned, and smiled at her nieces.
Savart's angry countenance had not faded. Infact, he'd completely ignored Beth's greeting.
"Where's Elsa?"
"Still dreaming, probably", Ilyana replied distastefully, playing with her food.
She clicked her tongue distastefully at the fact that their father didn't answer their greetings, but asked about Elsa first.
It was common knowledge to the royal family that Ilyana had always been jealous of her twin, Elsa.
An almost polar opposite of everything Ilyana loved or hated.
Also, they didn't even look alike.
Elsa, the most beautiful and most loved princess in the whole kingdom.
Even Beth's blond white hair and magenta eyes (same with Ilyana's) couldn't add up to beat Elsa's stunning features.
Beth and Bella looked like exact identical twins. Elsa was just a phenotype of her late mother.
"Aunty Dora", Beth continued, pouring a liberal amount of wine into her goblet, taking a sip with the gait appropriate for a young lady of the court.
"How did the hunt yesterday go?"
"A tad bit successful, I think", Nymphadora maintained her smile, betraying no emotion.
"Perhaps, you girls would like to escort your father and I, when we go to retrieve our spoil."
Beth and Ilyana exchanged excited looks. Bella began to rise, but Beth restrained her.
"Wait!", she hissed, then turned back to their watching aunt. "Now?"
Savart glared at her sharply. Forcing her to quail under his wrathful yet controlled expression.
"Of course, not. After breakfast", he returned his gaze to the ceiling, eyes still stormy.
Although he had no son, Savart had learnt to find solace in his daughters. Especially his twins, who would be turning nineteen in two months.
Beth was twenty-one, and already engaged to the Crown Prince of Vandel Marakin.
It'd annoyed him that Simma had challenged him to fight Ravenheart, king of the Cruceni stronghold.
That clearly depicted that he knew of Savart's old fear of the Cruceni overlord.
At this point, the door opened, its smooth swinging sound encroaching into his thoughts.
He glanced up to behold the breathtaking sight before him, which he was supposed to be, but for some reason, couldn't get familiar with.
Elsa stepped in, lingering at the threshold. She wore a simple sea green gown that stopped just above her knees.
She wore no makeup, because it seemed clearly pointless to do so.
Beauty bathed her in an ethereal glow, highlighting all her tender figures.
Despite the absence of any form of artificial beautifiers.
Her lushy long black hair, cascading down to her waist, gleamed in the morning sunlight.
Her modest gown couldn't even hide the luscious curves extending from her narrow waist downwards.
Her breasts were cuppingly seductive, and her ice blue eyes twinkled brightly in its pure innocence as she surveyed the scene before her.
All these breath-taking features added up to make a figure that could arouse uncontrollable lust at sight.
"Merry Morning Father…and Aunt Dora."
Her sharp eyes had already noticed the tension in the room.
She stopped dead, glancing at her father again.
He seemed unnaturally angry today, she couldn't think of any reason why.
After a while, she came in and sat opposite Ilyana.
"Did you dream today?"
Elsa shrugged, pulling a empty plate, and examining the different stew varieties before her.
"Do you dream at all?"
"Sometimes," Elsa cast an friendly but warning glance at her sister, something Nymphadora noticed right away.
Elsa, being naturally reserved, disliked being pushed to speak.
Which, by the way, happened to be Ilyana's intention.
"Pass the nearest unused goblet, please", Elsa looked expectantly at her now quiet twin.
No positive response. She'd already expected that anyways.
"Here you go," Nymphadora pushed a goblet, which drifted towards Elsa.
It came a little bit fast, but Elsa caught it just in time.
"I'm sorry", Nymphadora inspected her hand, surprised. "Perhaps something might be wrong with my magic."
Elsa glanced up sharply at this words. Something even a disinterested Savart noticed.
Nymphadora inhaled deeply, praying inwardly.
She'd always suspected Elsa of having slight prophetic abilities.
Right from childhood, Elsa often had displayed a disturbing habit of passing judgement on certain debatable matters.
No matter how crucial it might seem, no matter how absurd it would sound, she didn't care.
She'd stick to that one prediction.
She didn't do it often, but whenever she did, it always went the way she dictated.
Most times, her offhand statements and guesses turned out to be near accurate.
Elsa had always denied doing such on purpose. However, Nymphadora didn't always believe her.
That reason made her seriously tensed now.
Savart exchanged glances with her, reaching a silent resolution.
They'd schedule that discussion for later.
"Is anything wrong?", Beth asked.
Elsa ignored her, and looked straight at Nymphadora. Her blue eyes latched onto Nymphadora's purple.
"You've never complained about your magic before", she said casually. So unfitting to her accusing stare.
"Seems like it's getting a bit too powerful for you to handle."
"It isn't unheard of, though. Happens when someone is suddenly exposed to a bit of power all at once," she continued. Oblivious of the fact that everyone was now staring at her.
"I dreamt of something really abstract", she stated hesitantly, then raised her blue eyes to meet her aunt's. "Has anyone ever heard of the Curse of the Inferi?"
Nymphadora almost gasped out. Savart simply sighed, shielding his face with his hands.
So accurate. Just as always. This couldn't be a coincidence this time.
Ilyana rolled her eyes. "Always dreaming of weird stuff."
"It really exists. I don't know why but I'm so sure, and it has something to do with this incoming war." Elsa insisted stubbornly. "I just have to seek it out."
At this point, even the guards glanced at her horrified.
Surely they'd noticed the stares Savart and Nymphadora threw at her now.
Savart couldn't endure Elsa's 'rantings' any longer.
"We can have this discussion later," Nymphadora sounded so authoritative that no one argued. "During training perhaps."
Ilyana nodded, but she had a reserved insult left, "For now, let's focus on the food. Then, I will get a chance to beat someone up during sword training."
"Ilyana!"
"Sorry, aunt."
Everyone present, including the guards, knew that she'd referred to Elsa.
Ilyana was easily the best sword fighter among the three.
"I might be horrible in swordfighting, but I do have a divine calling to archery", A sly smile lingered on her face.
Truly, her skills in archery were unrivalled even among all the generals.
She could aim with multiple notched arrows, at multiple targets, all at once.
Even repeating the feat within a constrained time limit.
"I just remembered", Elsa tapped her forehead lightly. "Father, there was trouble outside the gates when I left my room. Have you been alerted?"
"No", Savart still sounded distinctly angry. Nymphadora caressed his back soothingly, afraid of transferred aggression on Elsa.
It happened sometimes.
Just like last night. Although part of the fault belonged to Simma.
"I'm not blabbing…I saw soldiers running around –"
An urgent knock sounded on the door, and Savart grunted in affirmative.
A guard entered, rather hastily.
"My Lord, and ladies", he genuflected "we have forbidden visitors present in the city."
"Explain further!", Savart sat up, his eyes flaring up. Panic lingered in there now.
"Incarnian emissaries", the guard raised his head.
His face bore a look of pure terror. He even had difficulty steadying his voice to speak clearly.
His next words brought a chilling silence upon the room.
"They bring a message from Ragnar Itadora, lord of Nakamai."