I scoured the library, but there was no information on alchemy. Everything related to it had been burned and erased from the library altogether. This meant that if I wished to study it, I would have to develop my own theories and conduct my own research, and that's exactly what I did. I began treating the drawings I made of the magical circles not merely as doodles but as serious research.
My goal was to decipher their meanings and gain a better understanding of alchemy. Typically, at my age, children began learning how to use magic, but since I had no magical abilities, I was mostly left to my own devices.
I spent my days on my balcony observing the courtyard with a notebook and quill in hand. I observed the mages down below as they cast spells. I took notes on their incantations and made several observations. The first thing I noticed was the different shapes and patterns based on the attributes of the spells they casted. The symbols took the form of a large circle, but the runes and shapes inside the circle changed depending on the specific attribute being used.
For healing magic, like that used by the priests, the symbol inside the magical circle was shaped like a cross. For fire magic, it took the form of a triangle, while for water magic, there was no specific shape; the only indication was the wavy lines used to create the magic circle.
For earth magic, the symbols inside the magic circle were square-shaped, and for wind magic, the symbols took the shape of a spiral. I made sure to memorize the differences between each attribute. These were the only types of magic I observed from the mages in the courtyard.
My train of thought was that by recreating these magic circles, I could cast the spells myself. To my surprise, however, it never worked. No matter how accurately I drew the symbols, nothing happened. Still, I continued my research until someone unusual showed up.
It was a wrinkled old man who walked across the courtyard with the assistance of a mage. What made me wary of him was the way the others looked at him. Some with fear while others with pure admiration. He stood in front of them and cast a spell toward a training dummy.
A purple magical circle floated in front of him, and the symbols inside the circle were shaped like X's. Straight lines overlapped to form intricate patterns resembling X's. The pattern looked complicated to draw, and I knew right then and there that I wouldn't be able to replicate it perfectly.
Having read enough about magic, I recognized that he was using dark magic. The moment he casted his spell, a wave of dark energy erupted from the old man's hand. The spell seemed to change the air itself as I felt a hot burning inside my lungs. It rippled through the air, incinerating everything in its path until it got to the dummy. The mages watching were left speechless, and so was I.
Even from my balcony, I could feel the power radiating from him in waves. My eyes glowed with a brilliant golden light as a warmth emanated from them.
KNOCK KNOCK
Just then, there was a knock on my door. It was time. I promptly opened the door to see my father, the king, along with my twin brother, Alaric, and my mother. All dressed nicely for the special event.
Apparently, today was a special day. That was all they told me, but I noticed my mother had a grim look on her face, even though she tried to mask it with a smile.
We entered the royal carriage and the guards lowered the draw bridge for us to enter the city.
…
The four of us sat on a rather large platform overlooking a crowd of commoners. The city was alive with people. The king seemed to have their favor as they were looking at him with reverence. Some bowed their heads, while others shouted cheers and threw flower petals at him.
The king stood up, approached the edge of the platform, and silenced them with a wave of his hand.
"People of Palasia," his voice echoed so all could hear, "Today is a day of reckoning. The day we rid ourselves of those who would dare bring us harm. Today is a day of punishment, where the Lord of Light will look down on all the sinners and smite them with his justice!"
The king spoke with conviction, his determination evident in the way he carried himself and the way his voice shook. From their behavior, one might assume they were preparing for a celebration, but my jaw dropped when I realized what it truly was.
A man wearing tattered clothes walked through the crowd, enduring curses and blows from the people. Some even went so far as to spit on him. The man covered his head, desperately trying to shield himself from the incoming blows.
The king looked at the man with pure disgust, while my mother, the queen, seemed mostly concerned about me and my brother witnessing such a barbaric act. Alaric regarded the man with the same disgust as our father. This was typical for him; I had noticed he often mimicked our father's actions, perhaps in an attempt to earn his approval.
However, our father never noticed or even acknowledged him. He only paid attention to me, as I was the heir. I knew deep down that Alaric must have felt jealous, but he never showed it. He always treated me like his beloved brother. When he is not being trained by the church that is.
The man continued to move through the crowd until he reached a knight waiting for him with a broadsword in hand. This knight was as big as a mountain, dressed in chain mail from head to toe. He had a broad nose and a face only a mother could love.
I briefly asked Dunken, who was standing beside me, who the knight was. He replied that the giant knight was the king's personal executioner. A man they referred to as Ogar the barbaric.
"Elias," the king said sternly, holding a piece of parchment while addressing the man, "For the crime of conning and stealing from the citizens of this kingdom, I sentence you to death. May the Lord of Light vaporize your evil soul so that this world never knows evil like yours again."
Strangely, the man didn't refute this; instead, he only cried silently.
"Why is he accepting his execution without any resistance?" I asked Dunken.
"He is magically bound, Your Grace. He is forced to act according to the king's rule."
A warm sensation enveloped my eyes as I activated my demonic vision. Indeed, Dunken seemed to be correct. There was a strange incantation on the man's chest. The symbols looked smoky, constantly floating around him.
Spirit Magic? That was my guess based on how it was being used. But who could've possessed such a gift. A feeling of excitement bubbled in my chest. The two sets of magic that I needed for my research came to me on the same day.Butwho could have used such a spell?
Instinctively, my eyes drifted to the high priest. He stood beside my brother Alaric like always. His eyes were locked onto the man in front of the executioner but something told me he saw my gaze.
The man quietly got on his knees and rested his stomach on a block of stone, with his head sticking out. In one fluid swing of his sword, the executioner relieved the man of his head. More executions followed, continuing in the same manner.
Soon, the cobblestones were stained with blood, and small chunks of human flesh littered the ground. The scent filled the air, overpowering everything. There was even a man that was executed for alchemy. A professor they said he was.
I watched him willingly lay himself on the chopping block without even the option of resisting. The only thing he could do was cry silently as his life was taken. If I was caught, that would be my faith but still, I had no plan of stopping.
Time passed, and soon it was time for the final execution. This time, however, there seemed to be a change in the air. Firstly, stakes were planted in the ground along with ropes.
The executioner had changed too. To my surprise, it was the old man I had seen earlier in the courtyard, the one who wielded dark magic. He was the was who was going to execute the last criminal. Suddenly, the crowd grew quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the clanking of shackles being dragged against the cobblestone.
A woman wearing nothing but rags walked through the crowd. Her hands and feet were shackled, and I noticed incantations floating around the shackles. She was also flanked by guards on both sides.
The woman in question was strikingly beautiful. She had a well-proportioned figure that was barely held together by the rags she called clothing. Her crimson hair was in pristine condition, cascading down to her waist. Her skin was as pale as snow but still in perfect condition.
She appeared to be in her late thirties. I wouldn't have been surprised if she were the wife of some nobleman who had committed adultery, but from the looks the crowd was giving her, it was obvious that wasn't the case.
"Who is she?"
Dunken hesitated before answering. His hands instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword as he stared at her with burning hatred.
"Count Isabella… a vampire. One of the worst vampires in recent history."
"What did she do?"
"She lost her mind. It's not uncommon for vampires, but still… she's too far gone. Broken beyond repair."
"What did she do exactly?"
"Around fifty years ago, she went on a killing spree here in this very kingdom. Hundreds were murdered, families were lost during her rampage. Most of them were men. There was a rumor at one point saying she had a grudge against men, but there was no way to confirm it."
"If her killing spree happened fifty years ago, why wait until now to execute her?"
"That's the thing, Your Grace. We can't execute her, no matter what spells we try. This whole thing is just an act of remembrance for the men we lost fifty years ago. When she isn't being tortured, she spends her time as a dried-out husk without any drop of blood. She is given the bare minimum. She spends her days in agonizing suffering and that's how it will be till the end of time."
I stared at the vampire and couldn't help but notice how lifeless her eyes were. She looked dead already; the whole thing seemed pointless. For a split second, I thought she stared at me, but I wasn't completely sure.
Without the slightest resistance, she allowed herself to be tied to the stake. I checked but it didn't seem she had the same spell on her that the other prisoners had. She seemed more than willing to allow whatever punishment they had instore for her. .
The old mage took aim and cast the same spell he had used before. Everyone held their breaths as the dark magic took hold of her. It melted the skin from her bones, but she didn't utter a word. Dunken was right; she wasn't all there in the head. She was like broken toy with no purpose.
She seemed to be in a daze as if she was deep in thought.
But what was there to think about when your body is being burned to dust?