Arlo's palms were slick with sweat. The Duke's son writhed on the marble floor, cursed shadows crawling across his veins like living tar. Nobles whispered behind jeweled fans and golden monocles, voices sharp as knives.
The Duke's cane slammed the ground.
"Perform the miracle."
The words echoed through the hall like a death sentence.
Arlo thought,
"Perform the miracle, he says. Sure, let me just flip open my Holy Miracles for Dummies manual. Page one: Don't trip. Page two: Don't mess it up. Page three: If all else fails, fake my death."
"But hey, big choice, big consequences. This is where Herald of Disaster and Fortune shines—or buries me six feet under. Fifty-fifty odds. Coin toss of destiny. ...Why do I always bet against the house?"
Arlo swallowed hard and stepped forward. Tessa shot him a look of pure horror, mouthing, what the hell are you doing?!
He knelt beside the boy. The cursed noble thrashed, eyes glowing red, his mouth spitting guttural sounds that didn't belong in a human throat. Black tendrils lashed out like snakes, leaving scorch marks on the marble.
"Okay," Arlo muttered, raising his hand. "Don't screw me on this, Deos. I know you're watching, you petty bastard."
Light flared.
Golden radiance exploded from his palm, colliding with the writhing black curse. The impact was immediate, violent. A shockwave blasted outward, toppling goblets, shattering fine porcelain. Nobles screamed as the very air split with pressure.
The curse fought back.
The boy convulsed, shadows shrieking as they clawed against the golden light. The two forces tangled like rabid animals, light and dark gnashing teeth at each other.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the marble. Stained glass windows rattled in their frames.
"The curse—look!" a noble shouted.
"It's breaking!" another gasped.
And it was. The shadows peeled away in layers, burning and screaming like damned souls. With one final shriek, the curse shattered, dissolving into ash that rained across the hall.
The boy collapsed, his chest heaving. His eyes cleared. His breathing steadied.
A miracle.
Arlo blinked. "Wait. Did I just... win?"
Two glorious seconds of silence followed.
Then the floor exploded.
The marble beneath the boy split open, a jagged rift tearing across the hall. With a deafening roar, black fire erupted upward, engulfing tables, tapestries, priceless statues. A chandelier crashed down, narrowly missing a group of shrieking nobles.
From the chasm rose a figure—taller than any man, cloaked in shadow and flame, skeletal yet armored, its eyes twin furnaces of hate. Every step it took cracked the ground further.
Its roar was no mere sound—it was a quake that rattled bones.
The eastern wing of the estate collapsed like paper. Walls crumbled outward, crushing gardens and fountains. Entire towers split in half, raining stone into the courtyard.
Wine barrels burst, flooding the floor with rivers of crimson. Nobles slipped and skidded as servants screamed.
Arlo dove behind a table as fire whooshed overhead. "I WAS TRYING TO REMOVE A CURSE, NOT SUMMON SATAN'S BIG BROTHER!"
Tessa clung to a cracked pillar, shrieking, "WHAT DID YOU DO!?, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!"
The shadow creature raised its clawed hand, pulling darkness into a sphere of annihilation that blotted out the torches. Heat and pressure pressed down on the room, suffocating. Nobles fell to their knees, praying, crying, fainting.
Arlo's inner voice screamed. "Yup. This is it. This is where the coin toss lands on nuclear apocalypse."
The sphere pulsed—then suddenly, without warning, the creature dissolved. It evaporated into smoke, vanishing as though it had never been there.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The estate was ruined.
Half the hall was rubble. A tower lay in smoldering ruin. Priceless heirlooms—gone. Flames licked shattered tapestries. And yet... no one was dead. The nobles were bruised, battered, but alive.
The Duke's son stirred weakly, alive and free of the curse.
The nobles gawked, torn between awe and terror.
Arlo peeked out from behind the table, hair singed. "Sooo... miracle achieved?"
Tessa kicked him in the shin. "You nearly killed us all!"
The Duke rose slowly from the rubble, his cane trembling, his robes dusted in ash. He looked at his son. His face softened with relief. "My son... lives."
Gasps rippled through the room.
But then the Duke's gaze swept the destruction. His jaw hardened, his voice cold. "...And my estate lies in ruin."
The nobles murmured.
"Was that healing?"
"Or calamity?"
"Saint... or cursebringer?"
Arlo raised his hands defensively. "Okay, yes, property damage—but look at the positives! No curse, no casualties, and technically—this place needed redecorating!"
Tessa groaned. "Stop talking before you get us executed."
The Duke's glare could have killed lesser men. "You two... have performed a miracle. For that, I should give thanks."
Arlo grinned nervously. "That's all I wanted to hear."
The Duke slammed his cane into the fractured floor. "Yet your 'miracle' destroyed half my legacy. Generations of wealth, my family's standing—it may all be gone!"
Arlo froze. "...Sooo, that's a no on the 'thank you'?"
"Mockery will not save you, boy," the Duke growled.
Tessa plastered on a sugary smile. "Your Grace, surely... surely this is a matter for calm discussion?"
The Duke studied them for a long, burning moment. His son coughed, tugging at his sleeve, alive and breathing. Relief warred with fury across his face.
Finally, he exhaled. "...Very well. Tomorrow morning. You will sit with me. And we will negotiate the terms of this 'miracle.'"
Arlo sagged with relief. "Oh, thank god. I mean—thank you, Your Grace. Definitely not mocking."
The Duke's glare sharpened. "Do not mistake this for mercy. Pray that your tongues tomorrow are sharper than your curses."
The chandelier above them creaked, swaying on its broken chain.
Arlo gulped. "Yeah... totally... how bad could negotiations be?"
The chandelier crashed behind him, missing him by inches.