"One rotten apple is all it takes.."

  Words from the past in Bela’s head. Words from her mother, who was a Witch like her.

  True.

  You did abandon me, after all.

  She still remembered that day.

  A day much like this, but much more fierce.

  Wandering in the snow with no magic, battling for life, but struggling to find why.

  Coming out of the forest and seeing no end in sight—all she could do was lay down, and accept her fate.

  I understood why you abandoned me.

  Magic is an art, so obviously… When I said I wanted to aid the Moduran Sorcerers, you couldn’t stand it.

  I’m still sorry for that.

  But… you weren’t the one who made me hate them.

  It was…

  The day—where she stood so close to death’s scythe. Motionless with dead eyes, chilly to the bone.

  As she began to fade away, a whooshing sound shook her back into reality.

  It was a miracle. A sudden increase in heat.

  Before her eyes, there it was. A flame—a flame in a palm.

  “Woah there!”

  “Gee, she looks terrible.”

  Longinus!

  Ignorant to the cold, for he wore his classic clothing. That trait passed over to his son, Spriggan, who wore a mini version of the same thing. He’d been so nice enough to allow that.

  “...” Bela stood up, not bothering to wipe away the snow. “..Who are you?”

  “We’re dragons!” Longinus answered, patting her on the head, “We’re here to steal Miracle Day!”

  “Miracle… Day?” Bela worded it out slowly, “You mean… what the Moduran Sorcerers are protecting?”

  “Of course!”

  “But.. why?”

  “Hm?”

  “Why would you hate them?” Bela asked, “I mean—they took the magic we have and turned it into an entire system. Isn’t that insane—the way they can control magic?”

  “It’s not about crap like that, really!” Longinus said, scratching his head, “It’s just about my Origin. My whole life and everyone before me has been about fighting against the Moduran Sorcerers… and yet, my own sons turned against me.”

  Bela’s eyes widened.

  A connection.

  “Except this little one!” Longinus chuckled, hand running through Spriggan’s hair before being slapped away. “My point is—I can’t become a Moduran! So I just gotta fight ‘em with the magic I got! So, what about you? Why’re ya out here? You should be good if you’re a Witch, right?”

  “Yes.”

  The origin of all Witches come from Curses.

  The embodiments of evil.

  “I should be.”

  The Moduran Sorcerers… took this man’s family from him!

  “Say, do you… mind if I help you?”

  “Help? What do you mean?”

  “I…” Her eyes were lost, but were still determined! Clenching her fist, she made a declaration!

  “...I want revenge… on those Moduran Sorcerers, too!”

  All she could do was look down from above. Sitting on her broom, gaze astray.

  He’s gone.

  But… Nothing has changed.

  Tears.

  Tears to be frozen very, very soon.

  As a Witch, this is what the world has been waiting for.

  And now, I’ve cursed your legacy, my king.

  Because he’s nothing like you.

  Snow falling, now holding a pink hue due to the color of the street lights. They shone upon a park burdened by immense snow—still rising. Done for. Isolated. Yet, Spriggan and Cyromin were on the swings.

  Forward. Back.

  Forward. Back.

  A cycle. One that Spriggan caught onto quite quickly.

  “I just… don’t understand.” Spriggan said, “How can someone just… quit? Even if you’re about to die, why don’t you spend your last moments doing what you love?”

  “Happiness is a fragile thing—and rare for most of the year.” Cyromin answered. Back, forward. “When it’s broken away, even for a second, it’s like the end of the world.”

  “..Guess that makes sense.” Spriggan sighed. So even my old man… was like that near the end."

  That thought made him clench the chains tighter. “So that’s why this month’s gotta exist.”

  “You just gotta enjoy it while it lasts. Otherwise, you’ll end up sick and die before you see it again.”

  “So be happy until the end?”

  “As much as you can.”

  Fire and ice, finally synchronizing.

  Words of truth being exchanged.

  Spriggan’s gaze softened, and now, he was no different than the snow.

  “That Witch girl, she guided you, right?” Cyromin hopped off the swing, hair swaying to the tune of the snow. “Don’t curse her, or she’ll be left in the dust.”

  Cyromin turned his back, growing further and further away

  But Spriggan didn’t want to let him go just yet.

  “You feel the same toward… the King of the Boiling Rocks?”

  He stopped.

  “Family is family. I don’t know why it means so much to you, but sure, they matter, too. If we all had the same Origins, no one would be happy.”

  And so, he was off.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, probably, yeah?”

  Spriggan smiled, “Sure thing.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  But that smile soon faded.

  If being a Moduran Sorcerer is a curse, then…

  A fist formed.

  …Why did my brothers become Moduran Sorcerers?

  A train to the west side of Kamerlot, where Helios’ lone house resided. A lone house built in stone—stone that could withstand his fire. Tainted windows on each of the three floors.

  Creak-!

  Stepping into the living room, the lantern above swaying. The blue fire under the chimney crackled to his presence. Tired, he lumped himself onto the couch, eyes catching the pictures of his early years at Moduran High on the walls.

  His graduation, where he finally abided the dress code.

  Freshmen Prom, where he danced with Flowera. He didn’t expect his proposal would work.

  Him and the other three. His party, known as “The Four Magic Kings”. The famous Moduran Sorcerers.

  And all of it without his younger brother.

  Fwp! Fwp!

  The sound of fluttering wings from above His girlfriend, Flowera came down the stairs, immediately hovering over to him. “Baby!”

  Magic was the only way to describe the feeling of happiness in his heart upon seeing her. As he was smothered in kisses, he smiled—and for a second, his sadness faded. “My bad for bein’ late.”

  “Don’t sweat it, dear.” Flowera settled herself on his lap, cupping his chin. “I heard from Ganji that your day was… quite rough.”

  “Yeah.” Helios sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I think most of it’s just the cold, though.”

  “Hey,” Flowera’s eyes, filled with sincerity. It cooled him down at just the right temperature. “I’m here to adjust your temperature, remember? If there’s something on your mind, then please, share it with me.”

  Complicated feelings. Unusual for dragons.

  “I…”

  Hesitation.

  Oh, the life that could’ve been.

  “When we all became Moduran Sorcerers, I thought we were finally free from my old man, but…”

  Cultivating of a fist, one stemming from a silent rage.

  “The truth was… we left our little brother behind, and now… the best we can do is stop him.” …. “It’s strange. It’s impossible for any school to accept him. It’s dumb to spend time on what could’ve been. Even so, I’m certain he was supposed to be fighting alongside us.”

  “Do you… remember his face?” Flowera asked.

  It was faint.

  “Barely.” Helios chuckled.

  “You don’t have to do this alone.” Flowera urged, taking his hand. Cold against heat. “Even if it’s impossible, I can still—”

  “Thank you, but I won’t allow it.” Helios assured.

  Through the shadow covering his face, his hardened gaze was able to be seen.

  The face of someone without hope.

  “All I can do… is take responsibility as an older brother.”

  “It’s okay.” Flowera planted his head into her bosom, overlaying her own on top of his, rubbing his head. “..You should keep holding out, no matter what. There’s always a miracle, after all.”

  “Yeah.” Helios eased into the embrace. Finally, his tears fell. “A miracle.”

  In a metaphysical realm, a pattern of one-thousand doors. Doors that all led to where one started—the material world.

  In order to arrive at the true destination, a chant known only to Moduran Sorcerers must be uttered.

  Abacadabra.

  The world’s first chant.

  Ganji stood behind closed doors.

  After that chant, it opened.

  In the center of a realm of white—Contessa.

  “Ganji.” She called out without looking. “Shouldn’t you be checking on your students?”

  Tmp. Tmp. Tmp.

  Entering with purpose, the door disappearing behind him.

  “I’ve been assured they’re fine.” Ganji answered, “Besides, this is a Moduran matter.”

  “Helios?”

  “No.” Ganji stopped, putting on a callous gaze. “It’s about a former member of my party.”

  “Cybra.”

  “Yes.” Ganji answered, “A few years back, you told me about a theory. The theory states that the truth of Origins lies in an invisible binding that connects all Magic. The Fate Chain. If those with certain Origins are fated to meet one another or subjected to a certain event, then that explains why the Moduran System allows those with strong Origins to enter freely.”

  Plunging into the depths.

  The depths of light, where miracle’s hand reached out!

  “And if this theory is true… then is Cyromin fated to be cursed like his sister?”

  His mouth hung open after that explanation. So close to the light, but hesitant to take it. If there was one tint of darkness, he’d have to refrain.

  “The process of assimilation for me has informed me of everything I need to know about this world.” Contessa said, “I created this system to provide stability to Magic so that the world can finally know order and honor. When I made the chant, every possible intricacy of the world before was erased, for my soul deemed them as meaningless. In other words, I cannot confirm any superstitions of the system.”

  A disappointing answer. Darkness reached out again.

  “My two Royal Guards. Harusame Yami-o, who wields the Katana of Light. Nyxia Kali, who wields the Spear of Darkness. Both of them are connected by fate, the only ones. They’re the ones who maintain the dual sides of Magic at bay.”

  But the light wasn’t gone.

  “But if I don’t know, then you can interpret it however you want, right?”

  The question is, when the master presents it, will you avert?

  “Ganji.”

  The name of the Shigeru’s Moduran High Principle. The Sorcerer who plunged into the most terrifying territories of monsters and came out on top. Those words to your students earlier—they’re going to weave together soon.

  “Do you believe… in this theory?”

  Clenching his fists, scratching his head internally. The yearning for a brighter future.

  The safeguard of darkness, keeping one in a comfortable position.

  The duality of both brought forth conflict.

  And answer was…

  “I’m not sure.”

  Sorry, my students...

  MODRA-EL-RABAH!

  The main city of Kamerlot. Here it lies, Moduran Sorcerers walking amongst the workers in suits. The streets were busier than any other. The majestic stone buildings sprawling out like art.

  The center of the city. A roundabout central, and at the center of it all, the Katana and Spear of darkness built in stone. People reunited, Magic shows held great audiences, myriads of gifts being brought forth.

  Joyful.

  The pinnacle of it all was the construction basked in gold and steel. Hustling through the great bridge above the shimmering water, the benevolent gates, guarded by Moduran Sorcerers in armor, here it was. The castle that stood in solitude, bypassing the boundaries of heaven and earth. A colossal whirlwind of royalty.

  The Castle of Kamerlot.

  An assortment of famous pictures, relics, and weapons lie here. The Moduran Sorcerers assigned to protect the queen and princess walk here, their gazes appropriately sharp.

  A purple theme extended all throughout. If not on the smooth carpets, then on the doors. If not on the doors, then the keys. And if not that, then the picture frames, but never the walls.

  All roads of purple led to the throne room.

  A massive expanse, the stained glass windows alive, telling a story from long ago. The greatest story of the century.

  The story of the queen.

  It was all fate.

  Born from nothing.

  A Sorcerer with capabilities beyond everyone else.

  A special Magic that binded everything together.

  The pinnacle of an adventurer, where land was found.

  The story of Kamerlot’s queen!

  Calomfina Lightwaver!

  A woman of cosmic stature, wearing a crown that wrapped around her lucious, shimmering hair of purple. All seeing eyes, always uninterested and intimidating. A dress of a hard fabric that looked more like a uniform, showing her mighty body.

  And before her now, Didaden.

  “What brings you away from your post, soldier?” Calomfina asked, cheek resting against fist. “Better not be another one of Helios’ bribes.”

  “It is from Helios, but he gave me a choice to back out. This is of my own volition.” Didaden answered, “I’m sure you already know what it is.”

  “His younger brother.” Calomfina smirked, “I expect better from you, Didaden. My daughter holds so much respect for you, and yet, here you are, asking for something that you know the answer to.”

  “But what about a trial by combat?”

  "And if he wins, how would that reform him? He’ll just be another scoundrel in a Moduran school—and end of the year applications are nigh impossible.”

  “Conditioning, your highness.” Didaden argued, “If he hangs with his brothers, and fights alongside him, maybe he can be reformed. It’ll be slow, but we can make it work.”

  “Relying on emotion? Please, Didaden. Think this through.” Disappointment ridden in the queen’s scowl. “Some Origins just aren’t meant to co-exist with others. Someone like Spriggan Sunreaper will never break the chains his father placed on him. The others are different… because they didn’t stick true to their Origins.”

  A truth struck without mercy.

  “It’s best for both parties… if we can continue this cycle.”

  “Are you that afraid of change?” Didaden asked, an unforgiving glare striking back.

  “I fear meaningless change.” Calomfina said, “Do you really want to curse someone because of what someone else thinks is best for them? What if the boy becomes a walking calamity at the end? What if he gets too close to the sun and becomes an enemy of the system? A Strong Origin isn’t always the right Origin.”

  “But this system was created to bring everyone together!” Didaden preached, hand to heart. “It is the only thing connecting every nation of the world! The Moduran Sorcerers, and the enemies they face! If we want to preserve that, then we should keep an open heart!”

  “This isn’t about the kingdoms!”

  Stomp!

  A loud bang, and the room went silent.

  The queen had taken a stand.

  “This is about everyone.” Echoing words. All powerful. “This system wasn’t to bind political parties! How absurd! It was made with every race of Magic in mind—to give them a purpose in the modern era! Why do you think there’s an option to apply? Why do you think we underwent those trials with the rest of Helios’ brothers? Because we’re supposed to cultivate miracles! Not curses!”

  A good argument, but Didaden kept his callous gaze. Defiant!

  “But wouldn't it be a curse to Helios to have to fight his brother forever?!”

  “Which is exactly why we can’t allow anyone in the System.” Calomfina said, her expression dark. “To achieve something, you have to lose something, too.”

  Nothing else to talk about, now.

  But Didaden just knew.

  A longing in his heart to pierce through this logic, and find a better way.

  A clear path to justice!

  So, he spoke out mindlessly. “But—”

  “Enough.” Calomfina said, “My decision is final.”

  Silence.

  The glare of the guards nearby—far too direct. Didaden, for a split second, tried to conjure up words once more, but ultimately, he gave up, and exited.

  Hours later.

  The effect of Bela’s spell had worn off, and Spriggan was his normal self again. The two stayed in a cave—a cave within a forest of sharp trees, not too far from Candy Cane Lane.

  Fwoosh!

  A faint fire in his palm, fighting against the darkness. “So only four days, huh?”

  “Indeed, Little Lord.” Bela answered. She rested her back against the wall, holding her broom tightly. “Will you be prepared by then?”

  “Probably?”

  “Probably?” Bafflement. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s one thing bugging me.” Spriggan’s gaze fell aimless into his flame. “You joined me and my dad because you hated the Moduran Sorcerers, right?”

  “..Yes.”

  “I think I’m starting to understand… that Moduran Sorcerers are probably just as cursed as everyone else—even a Witch.” Spriggan said, “But, my father kept you around anyway. I’m nothing like that old man, so… are you happy?”

  “Happy?” Bela tilted her head.

  This feeling…

  “If I become a Moduran Sorcerer, and that’s the end of the story…” Witnessing Spriggan’s gaze, Bela never thought she could imagine anything softer—not even the snow. Such an unusual look. “...Where will you go?”

  To spend the rest of her life without the Sunreapers.

  Ah, that question. No answer in sight.

  Bela tried to maintain her stern gaze, but as it steered away, emotions took over. Like her days of survival, she clung tightly onto her broom with both hands, holding it as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

  The pride of a witch.

  “Don’t worry about me… Little Lord.”

  Drop.

  Drop.

  Spriggan froze.

  Those shining dots falling from her eyes.

  Tears?

  “I’m a witch, after all.”

  She feigned a smile—but the sight of a crying child was far too obvious. “..I was destined to be cursed and left behind.”

  “..What’re you—”

  Before the words could ensue, a surging wind blew out his father, forcing him to throw his arms up and brace himself.

  It ended in a second, and it was obvious.

  Bela had flown into the night with her broom.

  “Bela!!!”

  He called out to no avail. Within seconds, she was already gone.

  And now he had nothing.

  Cyromin returned to his home, and his sister was at the table.

  She raised her head, dead eyes acknowledging her brother. “Did you have fun?”

  “It was the same old, just like you described it, but,” During the journey to his room, he set the gift handed to him by Marion onto the table. “—Gotcha that.”

  Further elaboration disappeared after he went upstairs.

  Cybra felt the soft fabric of the plush, and for some reason, a faint feeling stirred within her heart, antediluvian in nature.

  I suppose... he's not that miserable.

  Now, it begins.

  The Miracle Day Countdown.

  Chapter End