Chapter 4

"You should listen to him," Nocturne intoned, climbing off the branch. "W-When did you get here?" I asked, pointing at him.

"I never left," He stretched his arms over his head, and his gaze made a slow journey from from head to toe, as if assessing my appearance. "What?" I scowled, and he let out a sigh.

"Someone contracted to a miracle should have some kind of signature on them," He pinched his chin, looking down at me as he thought. "Wait wait, I need to ask a few questions first," I said waving my hand dismissively.

"First of all, HOW DID I SUMMON YOU?!" I exclaimed closing the distance between us, then what followed was a groan and a grimace.

"Good question..." He replied walking left and right. With a frown, pondering, he stopped. Shooting me an impatient look, he tapped his foot frantically as he closed his eyes to remember. "Well?" With a lifted brow, and crossed arms, I asked.

"I simply cannot find the appropriate answer at the moment?" he answered, his fingers pressing his lips while he gave me an intent glare. "H-Huh? What do you mean you can't remember?" I inquired, eyes widened and mouth falling open.

"That is not what I said," He retorted, with furrowed brows, he cleared his throat. "So you can remember?" I asked, though obviously the answer was clear as day.

Even this miracle is not sure how he got here, and how unfortunate. However, he did mention that he's bound to me by some contract...

"What are you snickering about?" He asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows. Huh, I huess I was smiling the whole time I was thinking about it. "I was just thinking that...since I summoned you...technically, I own you? Correct?" I asked, although I should have used a better word. Owning a person doesn't sound morally correct even in this case.

"That's right," He answered. "As miracles, we are no more than mediums in which divine power is exhausted, and of course, fulfill our roles in the cycle," if that's the case, then I might be able to talk to the gods through him—I mean technically.

"Divine power...and fulfill your role in the cycle? Like quell the plague?" I asked, and his eyes averted from mine, and began to walk away. "Was...that not your purpose?" I continued, following him.

"Unfortunately, No...that is not my purpose. Supposedly, that concept is instantly brought to us the moment we materialize," He frowned, looking solemnly above. "And what is that purpose exactly?" I inquired.

"Peace," He replied. "You have to be more specific than that," I complained. "It is what was given to me the moment I was summoned, maybe that's also why I couldn't go back home for so long," Nocturne stopped, then he faced me, letting out a melancholic sigh.

Only when he did, had I noticed that we had walked amiably far from where we started. We were already in the outskirts of the inner bailey. We were in a trellis of rose vines, it was in a courtyard with several other roses, fortunately no one was here, not even a few knights. These were the same roses from Caden's tour. Just continuing straight would lead us to the view overlooking wistal lake.

"Peace is an impossible quest. With it, there's much destruction, and possiblity of the silence swallowing all things," Nocturne said tapping one of the roses, and oddly, it turned black, and fell like ash. It's remains disappearing before it reached the pathway.

"From years passed, I have tried calling for the heavens, but I was always received with silence," suddenly, a quick wave erupted from his body, and the marks on his arms began to glow in a daunting shade of purple. "It's curious...all of it, refusing to answer my questions," He let out a cooling sigh, before the glow on his hands began to fade, and his lips stretching to a small curve.

"Well, I guess I can't talk to the gods now," I groaned, shrugging my hands frustratedly in defeat. "You planned to? Whatever for?" He asked, smiling in mischief, he bent his body, until his face was a breath away from mine.

"Uhmm...Uh," I gulped. By the way his eyes were lacerating layers of my soul, I could tell he was greatly curious. "I...just...well I just have questions, only they can answer," his mischievous grin widened, but he receded. I don't know if he bought that lie or not, but I know I shouldn't let anyone know anything.

Given the trend of the supernatural in this world, I'm sure that even a visit from an otherworldly soul shouldn't be all that surprising—well I can tell him, and he'd believe me, but that kind of information shouldn't be just drawn out whenever, and plus! I still don't trust him.

"It's sad miracles, although contracted to their summoner, have no capacity to read into their master's minds," He said, crossing his arms.

I'm just curious, however, if miracles do not fulfill their duties, do they just stay here in mortal realm permanently? From what I've read so far, Cantus's miracles universally fight the plague, and achieve "Purpose," so...what happens...if they don't—

"You've gone awfully quiet, still curious why I can't talk to Gods?" He asked, snapping my thought back to reality.

"No...I was just thinking about why you haven't explained the contract clearly to me? If that's what you call them, works," I inquired.

He is my greatest ticket out of here, and whatever it takes, I will get back to the world where I belong.

"Alright, first things first," he then turned to face me. "This contract is a union between your soul and mine. You will be able to cast a fraction of my ariaflux, and I will be able to fight under your command," ok, that makes sense.

"Unfortunately for me, I don't have any power to refuse anything what you say so please be kind with your orders," He added.

"You mean this is kind of like a blood pact?" I asked. "Ehhh...close enough," He answered shrugging his shoulders. "Each human soul is made of music, and this contract is an avenue for a divine being to add their song, including their purpose to the soul of another being,"

"Music, the flow of life, with it's complexity, there's instances where certain parts of people's songs, their souls, are removed and added, like an orchestra per say," he explained. "Bluntly speaking, I fill in what you lack, amplify what you have, and remove whatever anomalies you possess," beaming, he bent down until our heads are close.

"So don't let the thought of my divinity get over your head, remember, you're just borrowing." He receded, his lips still curved to a smile.

If that's the case, since I was not able to make use of my bodily functions because of the curse, then that would mean...I'm now cured?

"So that one responsible for this body's natural state is...you?" I inquired. "Uhuh, that's right..." He looked to the side, crossing his arms, and closing his eyes as if to think deeply again.

"Since our souls have intertwined, it dodnt take me long to access everything," He then held out his hand, and conjured two small flames. "As my master, you can access mine too, however miracles are often summoned as a blank slate with their souls nothing to offer more than their astonishing ariaflux." The embers began to dance around each other with a small faint sound of music guiding them.

"Maybe that's why you can't remember how you were summoned" I said, and the flames disappeared. "No...that can't be the reason, miracles instantly gain consciousness after they materialized, and usually they would explain themselves, their purpose, their homeland, the plague among others," He answered.

"So why can't you remember?" I asked again. "..." He didnt reply, instead, he yawned and walked to the fountain in the center of the courtyard. "And how come you remember things from years prior to your summoning?" I added, but all I received was a cold shoulder.

I let out a sigh, one that meant to sound exhausted, but it sounded nothing more than disappointment. I guess it's no use pressing him for answers now if he's just going to ignore them anyway.

"I felt that your soul was an absolute mess, great poisons, Tacitus's remnants, linger around your music, replacing notes with silence," He said sitting down on the edge of the fountain.

"I'm surprised you managed to live by with remnants of the plague still plaguing in your system..." He said, smiling, he chuckled at his own joke. I groaned as a response, but putting that aside, does this mean my curse is gone?

"So the curse, remnants from the plague is it? Does this mean it's gone for good?" Eyes narrowing, I inched closer and gulped. It would surely benefit me if the curse is gone, and chances are it could be, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be that easy.

Remnants of the plague could also mean the leftovers of Tacitus's maledictions. Someone like Nocturne, even if he is a miracle, I would assume, could not overpower Tacitus's spells.

"Fragments of silence are almost irrevocable, these are like poison stripping away parts of your soul, essentially creating dissonance..." He intoned, and his countenance, warm and earnest. "...The best I could do is temporarily replace notes, fragments of your soul to prevent you from turning into a wild rhapsody," he explained.

Yeah figures. Clarion said that I—I mean Orpheus, narrowly escaped from plague, so that would mean he was in there enough time for his soul to catch some quarter of corruption.

"And what of the cure?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes as I pinched my chin.

"There have already been countless spells that mimicks what I'm doing, all of which vary in stabilization," Right...the duke did mention there was a way, but unfortunately I don't think my body could handle it for now. "They're not cures, just inhibitors, so even if you did finish under gone the process, remnants would still resurface and weaken your soul and body," He added gesturing me to sit beside him.

Inhibitors? Different levels of stabilization? I could only assume that since this is a curse of the divine, the church would have the most efficient spell to tame it. But I'm sure the duke already resorted to such merhods, given that it would be unwise for him not to do so, and still—

"Symptoms of the remnants takes on a myriad of forms. Sometimes people goes mad, others become extremely sick, and some have even killed themselves because of it," Nocturne's gaze, which happened to be so effortlessly intimidating, began to tread across my skin, analyzing my frame as kf he looked passed my garments.

"W-What are you looking at?!" I exclaimed, and almost instinctively, covered his eyes with my hands. "Can you calm down?" Nocturne replied, moving them.

"Look, Miracles often leave their mark somewhere around your body," I pulled back my hands, inching a bit further, and eyes scowling from skepticism. "Haa...you'll know it when you'll find it. Just touch the mark, and I'll appear no problem, got it?" I nodded.

"What are you walking away for?" He inquired. "Ahem! j-just continue," I retorted nervously. "You're an odd creature," he chuckled.

•••

Far from the house of the Nightingales, at the grand round rable in the haven of holiness—the venerated temple of the deities—were the Bishops of Elmas, Platina, and Zinariya, waiting patiently, but in times of impending chaos, patience is sacrce, and kindness even less. These three, although they loathe each other, they honorably serve the purpose to quell silence, three admirable soldiers headed by—

Oh...of course, who else could it be? The hierarchy of the divine churches pale in comparison to the temple of the seraphic Keeper—a legendary demi-god whose only purpose is to swell the influence of the deities. He has no other power than to convince all that there are no other Gods other than the those who command music and harmony.

As a being that watches the state of religion, the plea of the Elmas church—the highest church order—to find a Discantus, was certainly quite unexpected. The kingdom's years of not witnessing one had made the Discantus title almost mythical, but there was one—one that curved the tides of a bygone plague, even the keeper bears in mind till present.

"Please bow your heads in the presence of the supreme, the holy, the wise and virtuous, Keeper," A thunderous voice that came from nowhere struck the Bishops' ears with agony though it was one they were used to so they did not falter.

The robins that sleep and sang in the temple, adorable creatures, flew to swirld around in infront Cantus's statue. It was a statue that never stopped singing the holy names of the Gods.

As the myriad of birds gather in the center, blinding lights along with a powerful melodic scream stirred, and from the beautiful feathers and music fading away into oblivion, an angel—a man with six wings, white hair and pale skin—which looked extraordinary began to cast his ariaflux. Denouncing all his sins, he gave Cantus's image a pleasant look before turning to the Bishops.

"Gaston of Elmas, Sawyer of Platina, Sylvester of Zinariya, my friends, welcome again to the venerated temple. May the holy music praise you all," The Keeper said, as he walked towards the table.

"Greetings your holiness," said Gaston, bowing before the others. "Your Holiness," said the others, greeting the keeper, before bowing in unison.

"Oh how delightful this is! All of my friends, gather to worship our lord. My what joy it is to finally have you all here once again," the keeper sat, smiling, the bishops' expressions softened by the sight of their friend.

They were here to talk about the possibility of another demi-god. Bishops, and Gaston, who wrote to the Keeper about his theory, and urging him to invite the other two, was abhorrent and crass, but the Keeper overlooked Gaston's rashness and treated it as a friendly way of making him laugh.

"Gaston of Elmas," said the keeper, "Tell those who are here, what is the matter of urgency," his soft gaze, breathtaking gold eyes, subsided for a sharp, almost terrifying glare.

"!"

"Kindly enlighten the gods what is it that you have done,"