When the news reached Alistair, he paused, the knife in his hand hovering over the bowl meant to collect his heart’s blood. He merely muttered, “Stupid,” before continuing the ritual.
His former carefree nature had always been a calculated illusion in the eyes of outsiders.
Two dogs fight over a bone, and a third runs away with it.
Had he revealed his ambitions too early, he would have become everyone’s target.
The late king’s favor had never mattered to him.
His mother’s fate remained a vivid warnin
Though she had been a queen, he was merely the sixth son.
His mother, daughter of a senior general, had helped the late king ascend the throne. Yet in the end, she was met with suspicion and scorn. Even his birth had been an accident.
–
She gave her life to ensure his survival. He was then raised by current Queen Mother. To avoid suspicion, he had no choice but to pretend to live without ambition, losing himself in nature.
But Isabeau had always been short–sighted, only chasing immediate gain, ever the opportunist.
Even without her, he would still have become king.
The blade slid smoothly into his flesh. Blood dripped from its tip into a ceremonial bowl.
The sorcerer took the blood, lit a piece of Elvira’s intimate garment, and dropped it into the bowl.
In an instant, the flame blazed higher.
The summoning circle in the courtyard was already prepared. The sorcerer formed a complex hand seal and chanted:
P
“By the Frost bloodline, by Elvira’s name, By the balance of shadow and flame, Hear the whispers of earth and sky, Spirits awaken, bones reply! I summon thee, forgotten king, By rune and ash, by venom’s sting. With this mark, thy chains unbind, Rise from dust, O ghostly mind! No tomb shall hold, no ward deny. Come forth! Come forth! By the crow’s cry!”
R
The incantation had never failed before. Now it had been repeated countless times. Dark clouds rolled in over the courtyard, and a fierce wind howled, but no familiar soul appeared.
The sorcerer grew increasingly anxious, his chanting faster and more frantic.
“Pfft-!”
He suddenly spat a mouthful of blood and collapsed to the ground.
A growing sense of dread settled in Alistair’s heart. His earlier nervous anticipation gave way
to
a
chilling certainty.
“How is it?” he asked, his voice tight with urgency.
The sorcerer coughed blood, shaking his head repeatedly.
Only after a long moment did he manage to speak, his voice strained. “Your Majesty, the summoning has failed. There are only two explanations–either the soul refuses to return to you, or… the summoning target is not yet dead. If she lives, her soul cannot be summoned.”
“Your Majesty, what’s your…”
Hearing this, Alistair was overcome with conflicting emotions.
Was there any real difference between the two possibilities?
Either way, it meant she no longer wished to come back to him,
She no longer wanted to see him, no longer wanted any part of his world, no longer wanted to start over.
But why?
Alistair couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Silas, why won’t Elvira come back to me? In these five years, did she truly not feel even a shred of affection for me? Was it really that painful to stay by my side?”
He clutched his freshly bandaged chest, but blood, driven by his surging emotions, continued to seep through, staining his hands red.
Chapter 16
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Silas lowered his head in silence. He had no answer to give.
No matter what he said, it wouldn’t please Alistair.
Silas chose to remain silent. But deep down, Alistair already knew the answer.
After a long while, Alistair’s eyes turned bloodshot. With a furious sweep, he knocked everything off the table.
“Out! You useless trash, get out of my sight!”
The moment the words left his mouth, the sorcerer and all the servants scrambled to flee the courtyard, terrified to linger even a second longer.
Silence fell. The courtyard was eerily still.
Inside the ice coffin, the charred remains of a corpse lay motionless. Alistair, however, didn’t mind at all. His fingers gently traced the icy surface, caressing it with a rare tenderness.
Chapter 16
