Unnamed Memory - Volume 4 - Chapter 6

6. Black Sighs

While the fortress of Ynureid to the north of Farsas was in a state of high alert, in the palace at Druza, King Rodion sat far back on his throne as he listened to a mage’s report.

The elderly magic user knelt before his king with an eerie grin on his wizened face. “Work on the forbidden curse is proceeding smoothly. We believe it will be ready for use in battle within two to three days.”

“Can it really defeat Farsas?” asked King Rodion.

“Undoubtedly. It would be next to impossible to guard against it, even for a witch. Should they use Akashia against it, the weapon’s swordsman will die,” responded the old mage confidently.

Rodion nodded, asking nothing more.

A forbidden curse was the name given to the type of magic that was considered far too dangerous, crafted through unpleasant means. Some forbidden curses were large-scale spells that could be used in battle. These required considerable amounts of time and effort to assemble, to speak nothing of sacrifices. No ordinary country would ever employ such gruesome things.

Some spread rumors that knowledge of forbidden curses lay buried deep within Tuldarr or were kept secret among the three witches. However, no one could be sure of the truth. Even Molcado, who escaped Tuldarr four centuries ago and passed on the technique to summon wyverns, was an exception among exceptions. Up until now, his descendants had lurked underground, spending long years devising forbidden curses.

And now the hour to display the fruits of that labor was upon them. Their target was Farsas, which had long been an eyesore to them.

Rodion chuckled to himself.

Let these forbidden curse mages head out first. If they failed, he was content to count them among the acceptable losses.

Should they succeed, it would be the beginning of a new history.

On the twelfth day after Oscar’s coronation, a clear afternoon, disturbances were felt northwest of the fortress of Ynureid along the magical barrier separating Farsas from Druza.

The stronghold notified the castle of this immediately, and the leaders of Farsas teleported to Ynureid as soon as they heard. Everything was unfolding as planned, but no one could hide their nervousness.

As Oscar and Kumu observed the flurry of well-organized activity in the fortress courtyard, the former asked, “How long until they’re here?”

“Judging by the enemy’s movement speed and the curse’s range, about an hour. I think we’ll make it well in time,” answered Kumu.

“Got it.”

“It’s only a small group who’s crossed the border—seven among them appear to be the spell’s users. Additionally, approximately twenty thousand troops are on standby in Druza just on the other side of the border,” he added.

“That’s not many. Either Druza’s leaders are confident in the curse, or they don’t want to get too mixed up in this,” remarked Oscar.

“A battle centered around use of magic of this scale has never happened before… They may also be taking a wait-and-see approach,” Kumu mused.

“Maybe they think that if it doesn’t work, they’ll just get rid of the forbidden curse users and blame it on them,” said Oscar.

Sounds like something that crafty old fox would do, he thought darkly, referring to Rodion. The young king brought a hand to his waist, where Akashia—the key to everything in this clash—hung securely.

“Five shots, huh…? Well, I’m sure we’ll manage one way or another,” he muttered.

He didn’t sigh. War was upon them.

The fourteen intruders who had crossed into Farsas stopped in a forest. Ynureid was visible in the distance.

Between the Druzan border and the fortress lay wide, open plains with no cover of any kind, save a few infrequent wooded areas. The group watched the bastion from one such spot.

There were no towns or cities nearby. Ynureid was the cornerstone of Farsas’s defense in the north. In other words, breaching this stronghold would make it possible to march unhindered to the capital.

A scout returned, and a mage asked, “How does the fortress look?”

“I can’t tell. Seems the same as ever, but…,” the scout answered.

“Oh? Do they not know? I thought that rumors would have leaked out,” remarked another mage.

“Even if our plan was leaked, they’re helpless to stop it,” declared the old mage, clad in a robe. He glanced at the cloth-wrapped bundle the woman next to him was holding.

She noticed his gaze and nodded gracefully. That was when a man reached over to take the covered object from her.

“You must be close to your limit. I’ll take that,” he said.

Ominous magic emanated from the bundle, which contained a spherical magic crystal the size of a child’s head that encased the forbidden curse. It was an incredibly dangerous object that could not be destroyed or placed anywhere.

Were it carelessly set down on the ground, waves of magic and noxious miasma would immediately corrode away all around it, contaminating everything as the curse spread. As this crystal was terribly powerful, it had an adverse effect on those who carried it. No one person could bear it for long.

“Just a little farther, and it’ll be in range. Let’s hurry.”

The guards nodded. The party crept forward on foot cautiously, so as not to arouse suspicion.

After some time, the group reached a small copse of trees about ten minutes from Ynureid. Visible through gaps in the trees, the fortress looked no different than it did in peacetime. There were no troops stationed in the vicinity, either.

“Looks like we can proceed unobstructed.”

“It’s too quiet…”

“Don’t worry about that. Focus on what we’re here to do.”

The man unwrapped the cloth, revealing a dark, murky globe. A frisson of anxiety ran through the group.

“Don’t set up a shield. You’ll get sprayed.”

“Got it.”

Crystal in hand, the man moved to a position outside the forest where the fortress was in his direct line of sight. The old mage faced the stronghold, the cursed sphere before him, and placed a withered, spindly hand on its cold surface. Two other mages stood on either side and also touched the crystal. Everyone exchanged looks, taking nervous breaths.

With a sonorous, resonant voice, the old mage intoned the incantation.

“Negate it, ravage it, corrode it, O imprisoned souls! By this power, O loathing, rend it apart!”

For an instant, the crystal glowed with a dazzling light.

Then, screams of resentment tore out of the globe, along with a giant, violent ebony torrent.

Swallowing up all the nearby air, it took off directly for the fortress.

The party watched in stiff silence as the huge mass of magic made contact with the fortress at a frightening speed, then enveloped it all until the structure was a gigantic dark orb.

A beat later, a deafening explosion rocked the entire region. Instinctively, the woman behind the old mage covered her ears. As they watched, the dark orb slowly lightened in color.

The fortress was gone, not even leaving rubble or debris behind. There was only a swath of land polluted by the curse.

“I-it worked! Report back to His Majesty!” shouted the soldiers excitedly.

The woman used a spell to inform the royal forces of their success. Once she was done, she broke into a grin and nodded. “The troops will begin their march and should reach us in half an hour.”

“I suppose we’ll wait here,” stated a young man, unable to conceal his glee. He took a moment to catch his breath. The past four hundred years his order had spent laboring over the forbidden curses passed on from Molcado were finally paying off. Their deeds would go down in history. Everyone broke into grins of relief and irrepressible excitement.

Five minutes later, they suddenly heard something sharp whizzing through the air.

The mage standing next to the woman gave a little twitch and slowly slumped to the ground.

She peered down at him, frowning, and saw an arrow lodged deeply in his skull.

“I killed one mage.”

“Great shot,” praised Oscar with a little smirk upon hearing that.

Next to him, Als stared blanky in the direction where the fortress had been. “There’s no trace of it…”

“It’s been rebuilt many times over the years,” Oscar stated.

Ettard, who stood across from them, sounded saddened as he said, “It had so much history… But I suppose considering the circumstances, we had to.”

“Just four shots left,” Oscar observed.

The enemy mages crossing the border into Farsas was the cue for everyone in the fortress to vacate the structure. The empty stronghold then became a decoy as the soldiers hid in the surrounding woods, watching things play out from there.

One of the northeast forests got sucked up by the curse. That was where the archer who shot at the mages had hidden. Fortunately, he was no longer there, having used a transportation portal to withdraw.

Oscar nodded, unaffected. “Three shots left. I wonder if we can draw them a bit closer.”

No sooner had he said as much than a report came in that one of the arrows had failed to find its mark. The enemy had equipped themselves with bows and put up a barrier. Instead of loosing their remaining charges of the curse, they had evidently worked out another method of attack.

Twenty wyverns appeared in the sky overhead.

The creatures circled the area for a while before several of them sensed something and whirled back toward a forest that held Farsasian soldiers.

“That’s not good,” Oscar remarked, though his tone remained dry and unconcerned as he issued orders to his troops.

Things were still going according to plan.

Far in the distance, he saw the utterly unaware royal forces of Druza come into view.

The mages fell into a panic at the sudden loss of one of their own.

However, a roar from the old mage put an end to it. “Where did that come from?!”

“I—I think from that forest over there…,” a soldier replied, cowed by the elderly magic user’s thunderous expression, pointing at a cluster of trees in the distance.

The old mage shot a venomous look, then sucked in a deep breath and straightened up. He turned and chanted the curse incantation, after which another black vortex erupted forth.

Stifling, noxious gas flowed through the air, and several people covered their mouths. The temperature dropped—a lingering aftereffect.

Just like with the fortress, a dark sphere absorbed the forest. In its place, an ebony fog materialized in the stagnant air.

“Did that do it?”

“Put up a barrier!”

Just as a mage finished the incantation, an arrow hit the barrier. Everyone’s faces fell at the sound of another uninhibited shot. The forbidden curse they wielded had a limited number of uses. They couldn’t waste any.

“Damn them…,” grumbled the old man, gritting his teeth before starting up a different incantation. In response to his words, wyverns began to pop into the sky. He calmed his frantic breathing and yelled orders to the creatures. “Burn the hiding soldiers to a crisp!”

As ordered, the wyverns circled slowly in the sky before swooping toward a patch of woods in the northwest. Grinning, the elderly mage placed his hand on the crystal again.

However, a soldier interrupted with a shout. “His Majesty is here! We can’t fire now!”

Well-organized Druzan troops had marched up just behind the forest that the old mage was about to target.

It was then that everyone realized what this meant—all of this was Farsas’s plan.

“Get word to the king! It’s an ambush!” cried a soldier, and the woman rushed to cast a transmission spell.

However, that was when Farsasian forces appeared from deeper in the trees and opened fire on the Druzan troops’ flank.

Stupefied for a moment, the woman let the spell vanish. The others in her party were similarly stupefied and caught unawares.

As though on cue, Als and a group of mages teleported in behind them.

Seizing the element of surprise, Als cut down the Druzan guards before him and then pressed in. “Neutralize any spell casters.”

Their mission was to obtain the crystal, the core of the forbidden curse.

Tinasha had informed them ahead of time about the curse’s range, that core, and its danger.

Oscar’s plan was three-pronged. The first objective was to get the enemy to waste as many shots of the curse as possible. The second was to lure in the Druzan army and leave them with no excuse while at the same time using them as a shield from the curse. The third was to steal the core.

“There’s no need for us to just take all the curse’s hits,” the new king had said wearily before sacrificing the empty fortress of Ynureid.

Then there was Tinasha, who sent a covert message to say, “I can’t do anything about a core with a full five charges, but there’s a way to disarm it if a few of its shots have been expended. Once you’ve stolen the core, get it to me.”

Even after leaving, she had offered her assistance. To Als, that was a kindness Farsas could never repay; he felt both guilty about it as well as incredibly touched. Tinasha kept her involvement a secret from Oscar, but it was possible that the perceptive king was already aware and simply not mentioning it outright.

Trapped by an ambush, the Druzan soldiers fell one after another, unable to put up even a token amount of resistance.

From behind, the old man’s face twisted in rage as balls of fire manifested in both his hands. The other curse users started incantations, too.

“Begone, Farsas scum!” cried the old mage as he launched his spells. Yet before they could strike Als, they hit a barrier and dissipated. Immediately, Kav set to the task of erecting another magical shield.

Als kept gaining ground, swinging his sword in a deadly arc. Two Druzan mages fell to Farsas warriors and crumpled to the ground, their blood soaking the plains.

Amid the death and pandemonium, a hoarse cry rang out. “Run!”

No one knew whose voice it was, but Als watched as the man holding the crystal and the woman next to him vanished into thin air.

The general swore angrily that he hadn’t fully carried out his mission. “Contact Master Kumu.”

Kav nodded. Als shook his sword clean of blood. Ahead, he watched the two armies clash violently.

In the sky, the wyverns were breathing fire indiscriminately, which the mages of Farsas staved off with defensive barriers. The king’s red dragon, enchanted with magical protection, was engaged in an aerial battle with several wyverns. The black wyverns’ fire blasts had such an extensive range that even the Druzans were suffering casualties from them. Coupled with the shock of the surprise attack, they were barely standing their ground.

It was probably only a matter of time before the enemy fled.

Having delivered the message, Kav nodded, and Als surveyed the battlefield.

Tiny figures had appeared in the distance.

Als squinted to try to make out who it was, then felt his blood run cold with fright.

The two people who had teleported away to the south side of the plain were left speechless. The Druzan defeat was obvious even this far away.

From the very start, they’d been dancing atop Farsas’s hand.

They had destroyed a fortress, but it appeared that, too, had been part of their enemy’s strategy.

“Let’s get out of here. We’ll wait for another chance and attack again.”

“When?! Our master is dead, and we can’t make another forbidden curse! Do you realize how many years it took to make this one?” the woman cried in outrage, wresting the crystal away from the man.

Four centuries ago, Molcado had arrived in Druza. It had taken hundreds of years to complete this forbidden curse, and the woman didn’t want it to all be for naught.

No cost was too steep if it meant results.

Hatred bled from the crystal, melding together with the woman’s own.

Her eyes, blazing with fury, scanned over the battlefield until they landed on where the two armies had met. With her gaze transfixed, she brought herself up straight. She raised the crystal in one hand, then placed her other palm atop it.

The man next to her blanched. “What are you…? You’ll kill the king, too! Stop!”

“Shut up! We can always get another ruler! I am going to burn Farsas to the ground!”

Madness had long since claimed the woman’s mind, yet she smiled, unaware how far into the pit she had descended. Magic gathered in her grip.

The man threw her an aghast look. Then, after a beat, he let out a long exhale. Unsure if he felt determined or just resigned, he reached out to touch the crystal. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

A smile worked its way across the woman’s face. Those lost to their own power would become that power.

She had already ceased to be a person and was now only a deadly weapon.

“Two mages got away with the core,” Kumu reported.

“Damn that Als, I’ll have to give him a lecture,” muttered Oscar. He was on the front lines in Als’s place, and Kumu was right behind him, providing him protection.

Every so often, flames from the wyverns blazed across the area, but it never reached them. Oscar glanced at the sky, checking to see that Nark was still pulverizing the wyverns.

The Druzan army continued its desperate resistance, but even in a head-on fight, Farsas had more soldiers. It was obvious that once the tension holding them together broke, they would fall apart.

Rodion was in the center of the army, and Oscar wanted to kill him or take him prisoner if at all possible. That would clinch Druza’s defeat.

Unlike Oscar, Rodion was unlikely to risk an appearance on the front line. He was somewhere deep inside his army, protected by a contingent of guards. As Oscar stabbed and slashed with his sword, he scoured all around.

Then he saw it.

At the same time, Kumu began an incantation. The furious roar of the king of Farsas echoed across the plain, so loud it rang in one’s ears.

“Fall back!”

A dozen or so mages in the rear hurriedly began to form spells. Doan, who was among them, turned pale as he realized what was happening. In the distance stood two small silhouettes. Some manner of huge, black, sinister magical power formed around them.

Though the soldiers were confused by their king’s order, they started to retreat. That was when a dark, violent rush of power streamed out from the two faraway figures. The maelstrom that was a forbidden curse emitted an ear-piercing shriek as it whirled toward the battlefield. Aware of some sort of change, a Druzan general on horseback turned around to look and said wonderingly, “What in the world?”

Before he could answer, the general and his troops were swallowed up by the curse.

The black torrent raced forward, massacring a third of the Druzan troops and several wyverns. Just before it could pounce upon the Farsasian troops, however, it stopped.

There stood Oscar, a disgusted look on his face, wielding Akashia against the mass of wicked energy.

The curse, which struck the magic-neutralizing sword just before it could turn into a black orb, disintegrated little by little with loud screeching, grinding sounds. A huge barrier thrown up by the mages working together held back the ebony force that pressed in on the king from either side, trying to consume him without touching the sword.

From the point where it was touching Akashia, the curse turned to black mist and scattered.

Oscar suppressed a pained moan, eyes focused ahead all the while. His whole body was under so much pressure it threatened to crush him to death. It took all his strength merely to hold out against the curse.

He didn’t know how long the mages at his back could keep the barrier up.

With great effort, Oscar placed his left hand on the middle part of the sword. While pushing Akashia outward, he rotated it slightly. Sharp pain lanced through his arms, and he thought he heard the snap of bone.

But just then, the landscape finally cleared, and Oscar could see the horizon again. The curse had been dispelled.

The king inspected his broken left arm. Cold sweat ran down his forehead, but he felt too euphoric from battle to notice much pain. Pressing against his damaged limb, he turned around. “Can you heal it?”

“In a makeshift way,” answered Kumu.

“Do it, then.”

Kumu looked pallid, but he placed a hand on Oscar’s arm and chanted. The chief mage was still trembling after experiencing the overwhelming power of the forbidden curse.

In the end, their barrier hadn’t held out against the attack.

Right at the end, a silver-threaded spell configuration had shone on Oscar’s body, supporting the barrier from the inside.

This was not something any of them had applied to the king. He must have been enchanted beforehand. Kumu felt endlessly thankful for the aid rendered by a certain someone not present.

“I’ve secured it and applied a painkiller. Don’t do anything to aggravate it…”

“Got it. Ettard, lead a third of the troops to pursue the Druzan army. Take down all remaining soldiers.”

In truth, Oscar wanted to get his forces out, but that might invite those with the forbidden curse to fire again. Ettard, looking much the same as Kumu, bowed.

Doan shouted, “Another one is coming!”

A jolt ran through the gathered forces. Those capable began to work protective magic.

“Two left…,” Oscar muttered, grimacing as he turned back to face the curse.

The inky, swirling vortex barreled straight for him. Oscar’s horse balked in fear. He soothed it by using one hand to stroke its mane even as he held Akashia aloft once more.

Dark magic blotted out his vision. A choking, cloying pressure assailed his whole form.

Can I endure this?

Doubts ran through his mind, but he couldn’t allow himself to entertain them.

Never before in history had a forbidden curse determined the outcome of a war. Moreover, this was Farsas, one of the most prominent nations in all the land, as well as the home of Akashia. If they couldn’t hold their ground here, a number of countries might start working on their own forbidden curses.

Such a development could influence the future. It wasn’t a question of whether Oscar could do it. He had to.

“…”

An audible crack sounded from his body.

Oscar could barely move his left arm. Backlash from dismantling the magic shocked through his right hand.

The hilt of the sword finally slipped from his tight grasp.

Uh-oh.

The king hurried to grab ahold of it by the blade.

Unfortunately, his fingers hardly obeyed him anymore. Blood ran down the sword.

Sinister magical power reached for him.

The end was nigh.

Yet from behind, Oscar felt someone appear without warning.

The debilitating pressure vanished. Whoever it was leaned against his back; they were most likely sitting on the saddle behind him. Warmth flooded in, healing Oscar’s flesh and bones in the blink of an eye.

His eyes widened in shock, but right away he broke into a rueful grin. The curse was still right there before his eyes, but a mysterious sense of relief was sweeping through him. He used his restored left hand to hold Akashia back up.

Still gazing straight ahead, Oscar spoke to the familiar presence behind him, “I thought you hated me now.”

“I do. And I don’t want to see your face, either, so don’t turn around,” came the prickly reply in a clear, beautiful voice. He had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing.

Oscar’s body felt light and free. He cleared away the curse, cleaving through the black vortex and reducing it to dust.

There were murmurs behind him. After checking that his right hand was free of injury, he wrapped it around Akashia once more. “How come you’re here?”

In a peevish tone, Tinasha answered, “I’ve grown used to that personality of yours.”

She fell silent for a little while.

When she spoke next, her tone was different, as though she was making a proclamation or perhaps saying a prayer. “Even if you forget, even if I forget, even if history changes, and we redo things time and time again—I am your protector. That will never change.”

The words sank deep into Oscar’s heart, like pure water. His chest ached a little at how straightforward it was. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut in smoothly. “The next round is almost here.”

Oscar nodded. He could see a black mass forming in the distance.

“By the way, can you see magic spells?” she asked.

“I can’t.”

“Hmm… Well then, I’ll lend you my eyesight this time,” she replied. Instantaneously, Oscar’s vision changed, startling him.

The scene before him looked the same at first, yet here and there, he saw strange lines and glowing lights. He let out a heavy sigh upon spotting the five black rings comprising the forbidden curse, as well as the brightness of the white light enveloping him.

Softly, she questioned, “Can you see the rings?”

“Yes.”

“And the lines connected to it?”

“Yeah. I have to cut those?”

Tinasha giggled, which Oscar interpreted as assent and drew Akashia in. He took aim at the forbidden curse as it winged its way over to him.

The king didn’t falter in the slightest. With a harsh exhale, he cut the black spell apart.

The intricately intertwined configuration dispersed in a flash.

Without its spell framework, the curse faded away like some sort of apparition.

Compared to the previous two times, it felt almost anticlimactic. Oscar wanted to groan over how much he had suffered before using different methods.

Oscar was about to say something to the woman behind him, but he realized she had disappeared. He whirled around only to see Kumu staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Where’s Tinasha?” Oscar asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She was just here, wasn’t she?”

“N-no, no one was there,” Kumu answered.

Oscar’s eyes grew wide. He played back what had just happened, wondering if he had only imagined it.

However, there was no way. He wouldn’t have been able to break down the forbidden curse so easily without her.

Looking down at his entirely uninjured body, Oscar laughed out loud.

Clutching the orb, its dark miasma now thinned, the woman stood rooted in place.

Never had she expected that someone could defend against three shots from the curse. The power in her hands should have been absolute, and now that it was gone, she could do nothing but stare into the distance in a daze.

All of the sudden, the man tapped her shoulder. “We need to go. They’re coming.”

Als and his soldiers, the same ones who had slain the old mage, were galloping toward them on horseback.

Gritting her teeth, the woman stared at the enemy. She held the orb aloft, touching a hand to its cold surface.

Guessing her intent, the man’s face went white as a sheet. He reached out to stop her. “Don’t! Releasing unshaped magic will lead to danger!”

“Shut up!” she yelled, shaking him off.

“Come forth… Devour them!”

A black smear sputtered out of the crystal, responding to the magic she poured into it. Unlike the previous times, it had no clear shape and oozed out all over. Where the stain touched, grass withered, and some incomparable stench wafted forth.

The man went still. If they didn’t flee, they would be in danger, too.

He tried to call up a teleportation spell but then noticed the smear drifting toward a single point in the air. That place sucked in the thick miasma of resentment and diverted it away.

As the two watched, stunned by the incomprehensible sight, nearly the entire stain vanished. In its place appeared a woman.

She had long hair as black as night—and skin like porcelain. Floating in the air as she was, her mere existence seemed a beauteous thing.

Her eyes were closed, and they slowly opened to reveal dark irises.

She smiled down bewitchingly at the pair on the ground. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance… I am the twelfth ruler of Tuldarr, Tinasha As Meyer Ur Aeterna Tuldarr. Am I correct in my assumption that you have inherited the spell craft and crimes of the convict Molcado?”

Her gaze felt arresting—it bored into the two mages, drawing them close to the depths of the abyss.

They were terrified to hear her name.

“Th-the Witch Killer Queen…”

“…Here in the flesh…?”

The queen outstretched a hand toward them. As they watched magic congeal within her beguiling figure, any doubt the two had about the woman’s identity faded.

Her voice echoed in the air, not unlike the sound of a slender flute. “If you have no objections to that fact, then prepare for your punishment. This is the end.”

The mage woman had lost everything, and she closed her eyes in the face of her bitter defeat. A white light seared her eyelids.

And then she ceased to exist.

King Rodion of Druza, who managed to escape the free-for-all battle, rode with a handful of soldiers back toward the border.

The result of his experimental foray was an extraordinarily crushing defeat. He cursed the mages. “Damn them! All talk! Couldn’t live up to what they claimed! Not only did Farsas come out unscathed, our own army got dragged in, too!”

Pondering his revenge, Rodion ground his teeth. His horse suddenly came to a stop, and he pitched forward slightly. He managed to hold tight to the reins and not get thrown off.

His guards had halted, too.

“What’s going on?! Go!” he ordered, kicking at his steed’s flanks. Yet it wouldn’t budge. Checking behind him, Rodion saw that there was a Farsasian battalion chasing them down.

“Dammit! Move, damn you!” Rodion cried, drawing his sword. But a fierce burst of pain lanced through his arm. Instinctively, he dropped the sword.

As it fell to the ground, he heard a girl’s amused voice, though there was no one around. “The queen said she would have let you go, had you not used the forbidden curse.”

“Who’s there?!”

No one answered. The giggling had ceased.

Swords drawn, the group of Farsasian pursuers gained on him from behind.

“It looks like Farsas won. All that remains is for them to clean up,” the mystical spirit girl mocked idly.

“That’s because the Farsas army is much stronger. If not for the forbidden curse, it wouldn’t have even been a question,” responded the mage who was the crowning jewel of Tuldarr.

Both were hovering in the air above the battlefield, lazily watching things play out and offering their thoughts.

The woman eyed the areas enshrouded in black mist and sighed. “Let’s divert the fog away from those two spots before we return.”

“We could just leave it be, you know. You’re so conscientious, Lady Tinasha,” remarked the spirit girl.

“I can’t let it sit there…,” said Tinasha, raking her fingers up and back through her hair. First, she teleported above the former site of Ynureid. After a lengthy incantation of several minutes, she pushed away the magic stuck to that spot.

“One more left…,” Tinasha muttered, sounding hassled, and she warped to a position over where the land was still thick with ebony remnants.

The army reconvened, bringing reports from every corner. Mixed in among these was word that King Rodion of Druza had been killed. Oscar didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow upon hearing of the abrupt demise of an enemy ruler; he merely nodded.

Als came last to give his account, dismounting from his horse and bowing to Oscar. “The two mages wielding the forbidden curse died.”

“Did you kill them?” Oscar asked.

Als grimaced. Scratching at his head, he answered, “No, she…”

He trailed off vaguely, but Oscar understood. The king looked all around, then cocked his head thoughtfully.

“Your Majesty?” Als inquired.

“Nothing. Gather up the troops and have half make camp here. Send the others back to the castle,” Oscar ordered.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” responded Als.

In anticipation of the fortress’s destruction, an encampment had already been established a short distance away. Soldiers would be stationed there from now on as they awaited Ynureid’s rebuilding.

After giving other directions for post-battle cleanup, Oscar rode away on horseback. Nark flew back to his shoulder, like it had been waiting for him. Doan and several soldiers followed after the king, flustered by his sudden departure.

Oscar stopped his horse close by the patch of woods annihilated by the curse and looked at the sky.

There was nothing there. Doan frowned, puzzled.

“Tinasha! I know you’re there. Come down,” Oscar shouted.

Before Doan understood what was happening, the lingering traces of ebony mist disappeared from the place. Looking again, he noticed that there was no longer any warping above the former site of the fortress, either.

A woman’s voice echoed from the sky. She sounded very displeased. “How could you tell? I was trying to be invisible.”

“Intuition,” Oscar replied.

“I really don’t like you…,” grumbled the formless voice before popping into view in the sky. She slowly descended, her silky black locks fluttering in the breeze.

Once she was eye level with Oscar, a sarcastic grin twisted her features as she cocked her head to one side. “Did I not tell you that I don’t want to see your face?”

“I do seem to recall hearing that,” Oscar teased, a wry smile on his lips at the confirmation that it had, in fact, been her back there and not some phantom.

Tinasha, on the other hand, had her arms crossed and was scowling. Oscar, who hadn’t really seen her look like this before, felt oddly charmed.

“Well, whatever… It’s not very likely that you’ll change your behavior because I tell you to. And I’m not holding out hope for some miraculous improvement, either. Do what you want.”

“I am doing what I want, come to think of it,” remarked Oscar, beckoning Tinasha close. A glower on her face, Tinasha still edged nearer. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her dark eyes. “You saved us. Thank you.”

Surprise flickered in her gaze. Evidently, she hadn’t expected him to say that. Embarrassed, Tinasha looked away and muttered, “It’s nothing you need to thank me for. I was only meddling.”

“I wanted to give my gratitude, so I did. And also…I’m sorry. About before,” he admitted.

“It’s fine. I was being clingy. Naturally, it turned you off,” mumbled Tinasha.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I said…”

“And just for the record, I never tried to press you into marrying me either!” she insisted.

“Do you want to marry me?” Oscar questioned.

“You don’t mean it, so don’t ask me something like that,” Tinasha huffed, jerking her head to one side in an obvious pout.

Grinning, Oscar pulled her into his arms and sat her down before him in the saddle. He gave a light poke to her sulky face. “Hmm… It’s not my style to have someone save me. Too one-sided. I’m going to save you, like you saved me. So feel free to act as you like. I’ve left your room in the castle as it was.”

Tinasha’s head popped up to boggle at the king. But right away, her cheeks puffed out and her brow knit. “Do you think I’ll just forgive you no matter what? Am I supposed to just happily run back to you?”

“I don’t think that at all. You don’t want to see my face, after all.” Oscar broke into laughter.

His mood had soared. It didn’t matter that Tinasha was going to leave in the end.

This didn’t mean he wanted to have her for his own. He had just come to like her.

Oscar found Tinasha entertaining and wished she would simply be herself. He wanted to see her flying freely.

That was all it was right now, and he expected he’d be fine with that.

Tinasha stared at him in disgust as he laughed. But then she let out a little sigh and broke into a smile. She leaned back against him, making sure he couldn’t see her face, and then dimpled happily. “Fine. I’m well aware that I’ll end up as your plaything. I’ll stay within your reach.”

“Hmm, but you’re the one who made me your toy long ago,” Oscar shot back nonchalantly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tinasha huffed, clicking her tongue in vexation.

Despite the relatively small scope of the battle, Druza’s use of a forbidden curse sent ripples through other countries. This would be an indelible mark on history.

Druza, left with no heirs, split into two. The western side, which shared a border with Tuldarr, became a dependent territory of the Magic Empire.

The major powers of the mainland signed a treaty agreeing to ban use of forbidden curses in battle.

No records mentioned a mage from Tuldarr standing behind the king of Farsas as he destroyed the forbidden curse.

There were few at the battle who knew of that truth, and it was quickly relegated to the shadows of history.