Chapter 17: Chapter 16: Cursed Pestilence

“Birgitta mentioned that I overexerted my Soul’s Core… meaning I kept using it to channel abilities even after I’d run out of Arkhaios energy,” Deimos muttered to himself.

But that doesn’t make sense. I can’t use my abilities once I’m out of energy. Could Eirene have caused it when she took over my body?

No. She needs Arkhaic energy for her abilities too—probably more than I do. And she’s not the type to be reckless like that. She wouldn’t risk my Soul’s stability just to finish off Remus… right?

So… what if it was the curse?

Deimos walked across the grand hall, moving toward the group of nurses tending to the prince. Fatima noticed and followed at a slower pace, while Amelia and Elvira carried on a quieter conversation.

That would mean the curse took control of my body, using my abilities while draining my soul.

He stopped beside Remus’ unconscious form, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“A curse that can override my Soul Core and use abilities without Arkhaios energy…” he murmured. “That doesn’t sound like a curse at all.”

What if my body is being prepared… turned into a vessel for someone else?

“So you know,” Fatima said beside him, making him jump slightly.

“A-ah… know what?”

“About Prince Remus’ curse,” she said. “Isn’t that what you were just talking about?”

“Uh, no—I…” Deimos started. Fatima sighed.

“Ah, right. I forgot to introduce myself. I was too busy keeping an eye on Amelia and Eamon.”

She held out her hand. “I am Commander Fatima Castellane, of the Dol Marne army.”

Deimos took her hand. “So I’ve heard. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Tarot of the Sun.”

“You can just call me Deimos.”

“Noted.”

A brief silence passed between them before Deimos spoke again. “What’s the deal with Eamon? He just arrived and already seems to have taken over Amelia’s position.”

“They’ve been like that for years,” Fatima said. “Ever since our third general was killed, Eamon’s had no trust in her.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you all supposed to rely on each other as commanders?”

“He’s never given a clear reason, but if I had to guess… he believes Amelia let Lancelot die back in Calveth. That she didn’t go all out against the dragon and saved herself instead.”

“That’s… a serious accusation,” Deimos said, glancing over at Amelia. For the first time since he’d seen her today, she was smiling while speaking with Elvira.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not, but… sometimes he has visions. And he tells me about them.” A solemn look spread across Fatima’s face.

“Because of the Undine he has a contract with, when he sleeps, he very rarely sees visions of the future. And one time…”

Goosebumps rose on her skin as she spoke.

“One time, he came to me with a look I’d never seen in his eyes before—pure distress. He told me he had a vision that night. A day when the sky was pure red, filled with smoke. The entire country of Dol Marne… was lit ablaze.”

She closed her eyes, remembering. “In the center of it all stood the dragon, framed by the flames. Everyone—including the royal family—was dead. Amelia was nowhere to be seen. The only ones facing the dragon were Eamon, a short girl wielding an unnaturally large battle axe, and…”

Fatima raised a finger, pointing at Deimos. “A man with unnaturally white hair. I’m guessing that was you, Deimos.”

A sudden feeling of dread washed over him. “Maybe he just had a bad nightmare? Sounds… a bit anxious.”

“I thought that too,” Fatima murmured, “when he told me his vision about Lancelot’s death. Me, and even Lancelot himself, laughed in his face… but then that day came, and it all felt so surreal.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Just… please don’t hate him. He seems like an asshole, but he’s concerned, worried about everyone, even if it may not seem like it.”

“Of course, it’s impossible for me to hate anyone,” Deimos said with a calm smile. “The only thing I hate is that future he envisioned. If it ever comes close to happening, do remember: I am the Sun in Tarot form.”

“I was created to bring light to humanity, even in its darkest hours. No matter the peril, the danger, the despair, I will not falter. I will continue to protect the people of Enmida with my life.”

Even if I must return a million times…

Fatima’s eyes brightened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You know, that speech could’ve been given to everyone in this room, not just me. They could have needed it…”

Their conversation was interrupted by a groggling sound. Remus stirred, struggling to sit up.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“W—what happened?” he muttered, his vision still hazy.

“Prince Remus!” Fatima exclaimed, rushing over with a smile.

“F-Fatima?” His eyes snapped open. Shadows coalesced from his body, prompting the surrounding nurses to step back.

The shadows then took shape into Midnight, the dog. Panting with excitement, Midnight lunged into Fatima’s arms, licking her face.

“Thank god you’re okay…” She said, holding Midnight in her arms. Remus blinked twice, disbelief washing over him.

“…Sorry, I’m just not sure if my life is flashing before my eyes or something,” Remus said, his gaze darting around the room.

“First I was in a cell, then on a roof, and now I’m in the grand hall and… you’re here, I—”

His eyes met Deimos’. They froze, staring at each other for a long, tense moment.

Here we go… Deimos exhaled slowly, bracing himself as Remus opened his mouth.

“Prince Remus, what happened to you?” Fatima asked, concern etching her face. “You have dozens of wounds over your body…”

“Huh, I guess I do…” Remus muttered, scanning his battered form before glancing back at Deimos.

“Any idea why that is, Tarot of the Sun? Because the last thing I remember is fighting you… or something that looked like you.”

“H—huh?” Fatima asked, her eyes flicking toward Deimos, conflicted. Midnight snarled at the Tarot.

Deimos let out a long sigh. “When the castle was attacked, you lost control and… turned,” he whispered, watching as Remus stared at the stitches covering his arms.

“I spent the entire night trying to stop your rampage. I managed to burn the curse in your Soul Core entirely… though I’m not sure if that's gotten rid of it.”

Remus stared blankly, Deimos’ words from that night echoing in his mind:

I’m here to rescue you.

The faint hope behind the words made Remus laugh, and Midnight instantly calmed. Deimos and Fatima exchanged confused glances.

“Ah, of course. I guess I had been dreaming. Your eyes had turned pink, and you attacked me without any Arkhaios energy in your Soul Core,” Remus laughed, wiping his eyes.

“It was such bullshit—I should’ve realized sooner.”

“But now I can see… whatever I dreamed about wasn’t you. That’s reassuring.”

He peered at Deimos’ Soul Core, which was brimming with Arkhaios energy, surrounded by white flames, affirming his words.

“But it seems you did rescue me, Sun Tarot. Thank you.” The prince smiled. Fatima sighed, her expression soft.

“I’m glad you’re okay, my prince.” Midnight licked her face.

Remus stood fully. “And I’m glad you’re back. Wait—why are you here?”

Before Fatima could answer, Elvira rushed forward, wrapping him in a crushing embrace.

“Brother! Thank the goddess you’re alive!” she exclaimed, her black steel gauntlets pressing unrelentingly against his chest.

“U-uh—Princess, maybe not so rough,” Fatima said anxiously. “His stitching could come loose.”

Deimos stepped aside, observing the reunion, but Remus’ words tugged at him:

Your eyes had turned pink, and you attacked me without any Arkhaios energy in your Soul Core!

“So… I was right,” Deimos muttered, Amelia’s voice echoed in his head as he remembered what she said.

Passed out? No. You went psycho and tried to attack the Prince of Dol Marne.

Birgitta’s voice followed behind.

Whatever cursed you… it’s alive. It’s living inside your Soul Core, growing like a plant. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Growing like a plant…” he muttered, voice low, brittle. “But there’s something I don’t understand…”

Why had Eirene stayed calm? Did she not see what was happening?

Deimos’ mind reeled as memories assaulted him, his vision was fractured and unreliable.

Only one eye functioned, and even through it, most of what he saw was swallowed by darkness. His thoughts scrambled, grasping at the edge of understanding.

What is this…

Before he could complete the thought, a wave of rose-golden hair swept across his field of vision, accompanied by a visceral memory: his body being pulled, inexorably, toward someone.

“Eirene… is that you? Why are you here?” he asked aloud, the recognition striking him with clarity. His goddess was the force drawing him upward.

He glanced around, noticing faint, distant glimmers of light from the upper layers of Enmida, far beyond their current position, for they were below the world itself, at the very bottom—the pit.

Pain flared in his skull, radiating from the eye that could not see from. But there was no eye there, only a gaping void where his flesh and sight had been torn away.

Deimos… my sister has imprisoned me here… Eirene’s voice resonated inside him, her tone steady but tinged with urgency.

She seeks my core, to enslave humanity through it. Her words circled in his mind, direct and undeniable. With the last of my strength, I will give you my power. You will carry what I can no longer hold. As my heir, your abilities will awaken. Your lance of divinity will reform to house this power.

Her presence surged, lifting his body toward the sky. Deimos began to float upward, the air around him shifting with her power.

Then, a voice cut through the space before him, unmistakable in its weight and accusation.

Oh, sister… What have you done?

Deimos stumbled as he heard the voice, panic overtaking him. The sound drew the attention of Remus, Elvira, and Fatima, who all exchanged glances with one another.

Elvira approached cautiously. “Deimos… are you okay?”

But he did not answer. His eyes glowed dim white as the realization of what had happened crystallized.

No… Eirene wasn’t being calm, she tried to warn me, she was the first to notice because she… she

And now, a hollow, sinking certainty formed in his chest, one that he was even afraid to think about.

Eirene had been killed by her sister.

“I should have known…” he muttered, voice low, prompting a confused frown from Elvira.

“Known what?” she asked, but he remained silent.

When I first got here, I was ambushed by those Macabre, one of them did something to me— didn’t they?

Memories returned of him fighting the last Macabre, before it implanted something within his soul.

He remembered hearing the chaotic laugh of a mad woman before he was slowly overtaken by the effects of the spell.

The seed has been planted. Now go and fulfill your purpose, little fawn.

Deimos gritted his teeth as the memories surged, unbidden and sharp.

Elvira stumbled back, confusion etched across her face, while Remus and Fatima closed in slowly, their expressions taut with concern.

“I swear, this guy always has some shit going on…” Remus muttered under his breath, eyes fixed warily on Deimos.

The disorientation from Lirael’s resets only compounded the fog that crept through his mind each time she took control over him.

Until now, he had been blind to the pattern, but the truth stung in his chest with painful clarity.

The goddess of discord—Eris—was trying to use his body as her vessel.