“This is a lot to handle. I need some time to think, to consult my memory,” Daniel said. If there was one person who could help, it was Xaviar.

“You may think as long as you wish while standing here, but I won’t let you wander the castle unattended,” she responded, eyeing him with suspicion. He mirrored the look, gazing at the blood-red room.

“If I may ask, what’s with the room behind you?”

“None of your business. Then again, you’ve seen it, and it doesn’t take a genius to piece two and two together. One of the many methods to deal with the curse is to periodically replace all the blood in your body.” She said it so nonchalantly that Daniel momentarily nodded along. Then, he realised it was still something so morbid that it wouldn’t even show up in his darkest nightmares. Well, now it would.

Daniel hated the idea of leaving his body unattended in this situation, but, considering she had graced him with the story, it was unlikely she would kill him now. After all, she was sufficiently high-level to have killed him regularly.

Thus, he dropped to his knees, putting on a charade of being a devout priest and praying to Morvina. In reality, Daniel’s consciousness shifted, now high above the ground of his domain. Everything was calm, if not a bit lonely. The place was desolate without any souls walking along the river.

This time, it was him seeking out Xaviar. He knocked on the ancient stone door to be polite, entering just a moment later. The room was the same as when he had seen it first, except for a small detail. Half-empty bottles of whiskey littered the floor, seemingly thrown around at random.

“Didn’t know spirits could get drunk,” Daniel said, looking at the old man sitting down at the chess table.

“I can’t, but old habits are hard to replace. All I have is the memory of the taste and how it felt to get drunk,” he sighed, taking another swig of alcohol. “Damn boring in here.”

They both stayed silent.

“I’ve got news of your family. I wouldn’t call them good, but at least they live on,” Daniel spoke, seeing a glimmer of hope ignite in the spirit’s eyes.

“Yes? Stop stalling and spit it out already!” Xaviar shouted, tossing his drink aside.

And so, Daniel began the tale from the beginning, not skipping a single detail. He vividly saw how the spirit’s rage took on a physical appearance the more he said. Flames spun around in a whirlwind, melting practically everything in the room. Even Daniel had to shield himself with his river to avoid any harm.

“The worthless piece of trash! The bloody sorceress was born from the wedlock of a mangy mutt and a sewer rat. Tell them to start a witch-hunt and hunt down every single mage they see. Damn them all. May they get dragged down to the void and never see the light of day again,” he cursed, spitting all over the place.

Daniel had half the mind to tell Xaviar he was being too extreme, but one look at the fiery projection of a dragon prompted him to be silent. It was enlightening to hear as many curses as Daniel did in these past ten minutes.

“Do you know anything else about the curse? Perhaps a miracle cure that was invented in your time?”

“Pah! Traitor’s Blood is what we called it back in the day. It must be that scheming witch! Only she could use such foul magic. Then again, she should be long dead,” he said, conjuring a fiery image of a woman. Unfortunately, Xaviar was no great artist, and thus the details were unclear.

“What did she look like?” Daniel asked, gazing into the fire.

“She had long, blonde hair and a kindly face. It was like someone had taken sunshine and sculpted it into a woman. Marabella was all but perfect, but her eyes... They scared me at times. Uncaring, cold, all-knowing,” Xaviar said, letting out a bitter sigh.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“We didn’t part on the best of terms, but how could she do this to my own blood!?” he roared in anger, picking up his halberd and plunging it into the wall.

“Is there any way to cure the curse?”

“Killing her is the only way I know. If only I was a better mage, but no. My mastery over magic is limited to fire,” he chased away the wave of sadness, stoking further his flame. “You could try looking for her in Hythore. She would often visit the city, and she even had a mansion to the east of it. But, of course, that was hundreds of years ago.”

Was it a coincidence that Xaviar knew someone who could cast the curse? Although their appearances were different, there was no way to know if it was the same person. Perhaps the sorceress had inherited the witch’s legacy. There was no way to know.

“Well... There might be one other way to cure it, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Xaviar said, looking sullen. Daniel looked him in the eyes and saw a sea of concern.

“Ah, but the curse is too deadly. Fine. Tell her she can also seek out the tomb of Kavelier. He was a necromancer who was rumoured to be buried with a panacea capable of curing anything. A single drop should get rid of the curse. The tomb is located by the small town of Jevi, right next to the northern edge.”

“The edge?” Confusion spilt over from Daniel, and soon enough, Xaviar continued.

“They don’t teach youth about the continent’s edges anymore? Gah! What has this world come to!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Northern Frost, Eastern Ocean, Southern Dream, Western Void. Those are the four borders of the continent. Reasonably, you should only cross them when you’re above level 100, but fools exist everywhere. It’s safer near the edges, but not by much. That’s why I’m so reluctant to share this.”

Daniel nodded along. Unfortunately, there was no way to know if Xaviar’s sources were reliable. After all, his information was several hundred years old.

“I’ll relay that information, but there’s not much more I can do to help. Once in the city, I’ll look for clues about the witch. It might take me some time though,” Daniel said.

“Fine. If they’ve survived for five years, they can survive a few more days. Also, find a way for me to look outside this damn place! I wish to see those unfilial descendants of mine. They must have become weak.”

Although the anger was still there, evident by the flames around him, Daniel also noticed a trace of relief in his eyes. He put himself in Xaviar’s shoes for a second - finally getting freed and not knowing whether your family was still alive must’ve been extremely worrying.

Daniel bid the spirit farewell and nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Savira leaning next to his face, a blood-red halberd in hand. “Deep trance,” she said, laughing at his startled face.

“Was using a skill. I’ve learned some information that might be helpful,” Daniel said, trying to regain his cool.

“Enlighten me.”

And so he did. Of course, he kept silent from where he gained this information, but he stuck to telling nothing but the truth. Wouldn’t want to get impaled at this point.

“We’ve uncovered rumours about Traitor’s Blood, so you could be telling the truth. I haven’t heard of Hythore or Jevi, or about any necromancer’s tomb. The family’s historians shall dig through the records,” she pondered for a while before continuing.

“I thought long about whether to execute you, but you’ve bought yourself a week. If your information is true, the family will make sure to properly reward you. If not, then you need not worry about anything else. After all, I wouldn't want you to turn into a spirit when you die.” Savira smiled, revealing her razor-sharp teeth. The aura of bloodlust made him want to drop to his knees.

In response, he managed a single, vague nod.

“You’re dismissed. Gwynn, escort him out. Your punishment will depend on how much we find out.”

Daniel whirled around and looked at the young warrior, who had at some point crept up on him. Unlike the previous cheerfulness, his face was nothing but stoic now. He bowed, motioning for Daniel to move along.

“Surprised to see you alive,” he said, his expression relaxing after they passed through the nausea-inducing hallways. “But I knew you had something important to say! Just looked like the type, you know?” Gwynn jabbed at his side, almost causing Daniel to vomit.

“Right, before you leave. Take a look at this.” Gwynn said, thrusting a piece of parchment into Daniel’s hands.

In front of him was a moving picture, captured in such detail that he could see even the pores on her body. She looked to be thirty, with raven-black hair, arched eyebrows, and a high-pointed nose. There were two things that immediately captured his attention. She had orange eyeshadow in the shape of tears, and she had strikingly blue eyes, filled with frenzied fervour and belief. To Daniel, it looked more like madness.