The Stilled Prince: A Game Of Blood

Failed Ritual

Inside the royal palace's inner chamber, a high altar bed was at the center of the chamber. On top of the altar bed was a young man who seems to be eighteen, his eyes were closed, and he was dressed only in short trousers. Candles encircled him on the bed's surface, their flames flickering softly.

Surrounding the altar were five level 3 healers, their faces were filled with focus.

At the altar's heart was the master healer, a man in a white robe, also a level 3 healer.

A closer look at the young man's chest, one could see a circular mark over his heart, it was the Stillness Seal, embedded in his chest like a parasite.

By the window was a man in his late forties, dressed in a royal robe. His hands clasped behind his back, and a faint worry was visible on his face.

Beside him was a woman in her early forties, her right hand was pressed to her lips. Her eyes were fixed on the altar where the young man was on. Her skin was pale and grayish, as if she might collapse at any moment.

Noticing her deepening look, the man stepped closer, gently drawing her head to rest on his shoulder.

Back at the altar, the master healer spoke firmly. "We begin the weaving."

The five healers extended their hands and from their fingertips was a green light threads emerging . It was the essence of vitality magic. They started weaving them deftly, the threads spinning in the air like glowing silk, and crisscrossing over the young man's chest. The glowing threads formed a lifelike loom like a complex net of energy designed to hook into his frozen blood vessels and force life force through them.

As the threads tightened, the healers chanted in unison: "By the pulse of the earth and the breath of the sky, we mend what is broken and heal what was meant to die. Through the ice of the soul, let the life river spill, as we un-still what was broken and wake what has been Stilled."

The green threads glowed more brighte and turned to to white glow as they poured into the young man. His body arched off the altar, as if five hooks snagged his very soul.

The glowing light hovered over the seal on his chest.

"Push it in," the master healer's voice commanded.

The healers pushed the woven light forward. For an instant, the seal cracked and flushing pink. Then it reacted, absorbing the light entirely. It turned black, and a shockwave of energy erupted from the young man's chest, throwing the healers backward across the floor. Their weaving dissolved into useless sparks that disappeared.

The woman gasped, her eyes widening in frustration and sorrow. She rushed to the altar, tears streaming down her face.

The healers staggered to their feet, recovering from the impact.

The master healer turned to the man by the window, his expression showing a silent apology that says something like sorry, we failed again.

The other healers dusted themselves off, bowed respectfully to the man, and left, leaving only the master healer, the man, the woman, and the young man on the altar.

The man's face darkened as he muttered, "Eighteen years, and we still can not un-still him." Pain was laced in his voice as he spoke the words.

The master healer nodded in disappointment too. He paused and then decided to say it. "I know this is absurd, Your Majesty, but perhaps take him to the Rim. Master Magnus there might know how we can un-still him."

The man let out a "hmmm" thoughtfully as he was lost in consideration.

The young man on the altar was Rhaegar, Prince of the Elyria Kingdom. The man and woman were his parents: King Sigismund, ruler of Elyria, and Queen Hestia. Being Stilled meant Rhaegar was severed from the Source and can not channel. He was a weakling that is unable to channel magic. Without that connection, he was nothing and even a level 1 mage was far more superior than him in power.

Seeing the king's grim face, the master healer sighed. The agony of watching their only child Stilled, forever barred from the Source, was definitely weighing heavily on them.

The queen, hearing this, began to sob, her coughs racking her body and getting worse.

The master healer glanced at her, then back to the king. "The queen is broken inside, but that does not mean she can not be mended. We need three level 4 or two level 5 healer for it." He paused, regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't help more."

As the master healer bowed and turned to leave, the queen's voice broke through. "There has to be another way."

He shook his head gently. "I'm afraid there is no other way for now."

Just then, a dry, quiet male voice cut in. "Does that mean I will not be able to connect to the Source and channel, ever?"

The three people in the room turned quickly. The queen, already close, reached out, her hand brushing his face.

"Rhaegar...," the king murmured softly.

Seeing their expressions, Rhaegar's face fell. He slowly sat up, squeezed his mother's hand, then climbed down and walked to the chamber's mirror.

The Stilled Seal was just there and etched on his chest. He raised a hand, tracing it slowly.

As his fingers ran over the seal, he gritted his teeth as anger flashed in his eyes.

The master healer wore a sad look, while the king clenched his fists tightly, frustration and anger mingling in them.

Before Rhaegar was born, the continent of Oros was very peaceful. But everything shattered on the day of his birth. The day he was born, something appeared in the sky. It was a symbol blending three powers from different kingdoms; the mark of healing from Elyria, wind from Zephyr, and fire from Solis. Rhaegar was born wielding all three. An impossibility that had never happened in this world before.

Joy spread among some while fear spread among the others, especially the rulers and elders of the other kingdoms. They feared what they could not control, and were uncertain of what he might become. As a result, panic swept around them, with calls for his execution.

The Kingdom of Terran was the first to attacks. They ignited war against Elyria and Elyria was unprepared and never expected the war as a result, Elyria fell, their great level 4 healers and the only two level 5 healers ever produced were captured and dragged to Terran. Now, Elyria clung to their king as the only level 4 healer, with only level 3 healers remaining. If power level up were quick or easy, they would have risen by now.

Worse, Rhaegar was Stilled by Terran's King Hadrian and his allies.

Staring into the mirror, Rhaegar's eyes burned with deep hatred.

Unable to bear her son's pain, the queen sobbed harder. Her coughs got worse, and she spat blood.

The master healer and king rushed to her side. Rhaegar turn around quickly. "Mother, are you okay?"

The king acted swiftly. White threads emerged from his fingertips, channeling into her heart.

For a moment, her coughing ceased, her pulse steadied. He was Elyria's last level 4 healer and he was using the last of it to keep his wife alive.

The queen, once a healer herself, was now broken and shattered from her secret attempts to un-still Rhaegar, the efforts were feeding off her essence and it left her broken inside.

****

Note from the Archives of Oros:

​"In Elyria, we were taught that life is a thread to be woven, but threads can also be pulled until they're snap, and blood can be frozen until it shatters too. They did not only Still a Prince but they also broke the loom of a kingdom. And a broken weaver has nothing left to do but pick up the shears."

— Recovered scrolls from the Fall of Elyria