Chapter 1
"Good morning, young master," I looked at the duke while the man, carrying a lot of books, beside him, smiled at me.
"This is Jack Felton, He will be everything you'll need until you're able to recover," The duke said.
"It is an honor to meet you, young master,"
"You've been asleep for such a long time, it would be wise to refresh your mind about the kingdom and Ariaflux," The duke then shooted Jack a focused, threathening stare. "Take care of him will you?" He said gripping Jack's shoulders tightly, which made him gulp and awkwardly smile.
"I-I'll be patient with him, your grace. You have my word." Jack replied.
"Good," The duke said, then he looked at me, shifting instantly in mood. "Have fun, son!" He continued, before leaving the two of us alone.
"Phew...I thought he was going to kill me. Right! So shall we get started?" Jack, with a smile, expectantly swung a chair, humming a playful melody as he moved.
•••
Oddly, I was able to understand everything that was written in the book. It wasn't written in the language I was familiar with, nor with english or french, but it was purely in oddly shaped symbols. It looked relatively close to a music sheet more than anything else.
So far from Jack's lecture, this is what I've learned.
This country, the kingdom of Lyranth, have four major ducals which have their own realms to aid under the Kingdom's authority: The Harpers, assist over the trading industry, The Calliope Family works with medicine, The Swan Family with education, and Orpheus's family, the Nightingale Family, with the country's line of defense.
Essentially, these ducals have their own court and council which answers to the Queen. Jack told me, apparently the king had died years ago trying to quell a rebellion led by the former head of the Calliope family, which wow...that's something.
Aside from the ducals, from what Jack had explained, the magic of this world is called Ariaflux.
He explained that everything that exists in this world is governed by music and song. However, Ariaflux only follows a few known genres: Chants, Epics, Bardic, Instrumentals, and Ballads. It makes sense why Pop wasn't here, it wasn't invented yet.
"Can you follow, young master?" He asked, and I nodded.
Jack was kind enough to give me papers and pen to take down everything significant, but he was more so judgemental when he was trying to decipher what I was writing. Despite understanding what the symbols mean, I didn't exactly felt comfortable writing in their language.
So he kept teasing me about how cute it was that an adult such as I were fond of doodling. Haa...I would have smacked him then and there if it weren't for my—Orpheus's condition.
"Moving on, Chants! Chants are sacred melodies. Believe it or not, the church can actually talk to the deities with these songs. Sometimes, if we are lucky, the gods may even grant us blessings, like a good harvest or a peaceful year!" Jack continued.
So gods and goddesses exist here... If I could sing chant songs, will I be given an audience with the gods? It seems a bit of a stretch to say I'd be able to cast a chant successfully for the first time, but talking to the gods of this world may answer why I'm here.
Curiously, after the page, I could see angel-like drawings, one in black and one in gold. Intertwined, painfully as if they were trying to suffocate one another.
"Mmhpphh!" I grunted pointing at the picture. As if to ask who they were, which Jack immediately caught on.
"These are the children of pure melody and malice. I am surprised you even forgot this young master." I just nodded excessively then gestured for him to continue.
"Every decade, brother gods, Tacitus, god of silence, and Cantus, god of sound, feud over the state of the world," listening closely, I found myself interested in Orpheus's world. It was a different in a way that was fascinating.
"Tacitus believed silence was the order of all things, while Cantus believed sound to be the life of everything. In those feuds, Tacitus places a plague in the heart of the world, our kingdom, then casting a miracle, a knight that would help it grow," Jack cotinued.
A miracle?
"Ah...you don't remember what miracles are do you?" Jack asked, and I shook my head.
"Well, Miracles are champions blessed exclusively by the two god brothers. Cantus's miracles, The child of pure melody fights the plague, while Tacitus's miracles, The child of malice, do the opposite," Jack explained.
"The church, on the side of Cantus, have always been granted the authority to name the child of pure melody to fight the calamity. It's always a big event..." Jack looked down at the book, his brows furrowed as he pointed at the description of Tacitus's miracle.
"...however, Tacitus's miracles do not appear right away. In fact, they appear silently. Sometimes, they are the people whom you least expect would be the child of malice," He continued.
"So be careful who you trust, young master. If I recall correctly, this is the year before the next plague would arrive," Jack said.
While Jack was explaining the two characters, I was reading the part where the book described the plague. Apparently, the plague takes the form of a traumatizing silence. People may take some time before realizing they're in the plague, and by the time they do, it would be too late.
The plague destroys someone's mind. Generally, it makes someone go insane to the point where they turn into—what the books call—wild rhapsodies. Bodiless shambles of musical pieces, mostly flat notes, they find fragments of their song in an attempt to go back to their normal selves. However, they disappear almost instantly, the moment they find the very last piece to their song.
That's so scary...and it just had to arrive soon as I woke up. Just how greaaatttt is that.
"I think that's enough for today, we will talk about, the rest of the genres tomorrow as well as spells and enchantments," Jack said, with a smile, stood up and stretched.
"You're a good listener! This has been a delightful time," He said, giving me a thumbs up.
Well, I dont really have a choice now do I?
Before he left, he casted me a soft gentle smile. I don't know if it was pity or something else, but it looked like he was, in earnest, happy.
"I'll see you tomorrow, young master." He intoned warmly, and I smiled back at him perplexed, waving farewell.
I wonder what was that about?
•••
In the evening, the kingdom fell silent just as Orpheus did, but unbeknownst to everyone, a flame of a long imprisoned spirit was gone. The church who kept that phantasm, began to panic. It was not an ordinary specter, but a miracle that they thought manifested as the harbinger of the apocalypse.
"No...Noooo! How could this happen?!" The bishop exclaimed, tormented by the sight of a lightless cradle, where a spirit should've been.
A spirit, a flame that once belonged to a child, a child who laid waste on cities, who poisoned lakes, who brought upon a storm of ash that lasted months, nearly wiping the kingdom clean from it's people.
Upon capture, with understandable hesitation, the royal family entrusted them with it. Their heads, although blessed with great holiness, would fall victim to the guillotine, the moment the court hears word about this.
"You! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GUARD THE FLAME!" The bishop snapped, gripping the young knight by his collar, choking him against the wall.
"There was no break-in your excellency," he wheezed, struggling against the chokehold, "it fled silently, I swear!" Before the bishop could take his life, his grip loosened and the knight fell down, immediately gasping for air.
"Ridiculous! we have kept that miracle for years...if it were to escape that easily it would've done so years ago!" The bishop grimaced.
"Forgive me for interrupting, your excellency, but perhaps I could explain," an acolyte from behind him said holding a book, weathered and worn, bore by the scars of countless readings.
The bishop gestured the knight to leave, and he ran candidly out of their sight, leaving the bishop and the acolyte alone in the temple.
"There had been countless prophetic cycles. It had always involved one miracle which we are to bless to whoever it is we name as the child of pure melody..." The acolyte, with a concentrated gaze, flipped through the book.
"Tacitus's miracle have always been in the shadows, and we, the worshippers of the great holy Cantus, have always made a spectacle of it," the acolyte added.
"Do not tell me things I already know, you fool," The bishop snarked. He let out a long sigh before facing the acolyte, raising an eyebrow. "Get to the point," he said.
"Cantus and Tacitus aren't the only being who can call on miracles, isn't that right your holiness?" The acolyte replied.
"What are you trying to say?" The bishop sneered. "Our archives recorded that a being known as Discantus, also have the power to call on miracles," He thought of it and it registered in his mind almost instantly.
"Another demi-god? Ha! My boy, stop feeding me with such nonsense, a Discantus would only spawn under impossible conditions! What makes you so sure that this is the work of one?" The bishop snarked, shooting the acolyte a challenging smile, prepared to mock whatever answer the acolyte would give.
"Well, how would you explain it then, your excellency?" The acolyte retorted, catching the bishop off-guard.
"A Discantus, like Tacitus's miracles, are given powers in secret, but to do that, they need a miracle to anchor themselves into this world. A Discantus, is delicate without one, so if our flame happened to be called on by a Discantus—"
"I know! I know..." The bishop interrupted, with frown, he groaned and looked at the lightless cradle. "A Discantus is a neutral deity. They do not sing with one over the other unless they are persuaded," The bishop added.
"The kingdom has not witnessed a Discantus for years, the odds of it are astronomical."
"That miracle was from a bygone age, and we will be welcoming two more after a few months," the acolyte said, looking at the cold, lightless cradle, his face exuding faint fear.
"Your excellency, we need to find the Discantus before the next plague. Each year, miracles of the holy Cantus grows weaker, and we need that deity to fight by our side," the acolyte continued.
Silence followed. The bishop looked down thinking intently about their church's next move. There were three major churches in the kingdom. Theirs were, however, belong in the highest order. Such incident would eventually find it's way to court, but in the mean time, the Bishop had to inform the other two temples what had happened.
"Write to the others immediately." The bishop said, with a frown, he took one last glance at the cradle before letting out one painful sigh.
"We must find that fire before the court—before anyone else does..."
•••
That heavenly song, a forgotten tune my heart begs to listen, how has it returned?
As I flew through the inky night sky, my heart was racing, and I was as an ember—mimicking the countless shooting stars that have graced this world. I could hear someone calling for me, it was a plea, a divine plea. They wanted to be found, desperately. This was not merely a call, but a scream, taking the form of such a hypnotizing orchestra.
I found myself in a palace. One far off from the margins of the church, and one that I instantly recognized—it was a Nightingale bedroom. I was in a bedchamber, and the song grew extremely loud as I approached the bed. There I saw a beauty, slumbering ever so peacefully with an aching curse strangling him to death.
A few more years of it will surely kill him, but how was it able to call me? This man, what connection does he have to the divine? I can't hear any song from his soul, it was utterly silent, but the plethora of instruments that echoed in my mind came from him.
And the choirs...poor things...they asked for help. They didn't want to be consumed by silence, by what seems to be remnants of a long forgotten plague. How sad it is, this mortal, and how fortunate it was that I have grown weary of cruelty.
Once I shall become one with this mortal, I will relinquish many things, and I'll become someone new, but I know I will offer my loyalty to him...should he betray me like my previous champion had, I myself will ravage the world's music, until the only sweet sound of quiet is left as the universal whole.
As my ember fell, the blood dripping on the mortal's body, his curse slowly vanished—burnt away like it never existed. Parts of me I loved would be the only thing my new self would remember, so I implore you, my beauty, do not break it into pieces.