Chapter 96 - The Essence of the Dead

"That's…" Orwell leaned his back to the sofa, still perplexed and surprised. He massaged his temples and then readjusted his spectacles. It was a gesture he had when he was confused—it developed when he was researching back at the academy; he could never imagine he would be so perplexed at things that aren't pertaining to research.

"It's what happened," Faustina says. "The marionette pretended to be Eula to lure me, and it also wanted me to step to the magic circle. It didn't want to hurt me—the puppet said He's waiting for me,"

"He?" Orwell scowled. "And it didn't hurt you? A creature made for inflicting damage did not hurt its captive?"

"It did hurt Owen, though."

"Well, he technically hurt himself. The hurt was from his attacks returned twofold, like me," Orwell says. "And you defeated the marionette with what? With you talking? How is that possible?"

Faustina sighed.

"I don't know."

"Marionettes can only be defeated by daybreak or by destroying their essence." Says Orwell. "Daybreak because it will be from the quote of Folkmanor, 'Now Day conquers Night'… and the essence because it is essentially their lifeblood, similar to our hearts. You know how this works, right? We had a lesson or two regarding this."

"I know…" Faustina says. "It's just… it felt right for me."

"Can you repeat that story again? Can you tell me how you defeated it again? I don't… I can't understand." Orwell mutters, still perplexed. "I need to get a pen and write it down. What happened can revolutionize defeating creatures of the dark, Faustina!"

Faustina stared intently at Orwell. "Please listen more carefully now… this is what happened."

. . .

"Marionette!" A voice calls. Owen's eyes widened as the marionette's attack seem to lessen, halting upon hearing the call. He pushed his shield and had the puppet stumbling backward, but it did not lose its balance.

"What are you doing, kid?!" Owen yells, "Get back! It's dangerous here!"

"You want me, right?" Faustina says, her eyes fixed to the marionette. "You want to take me, right? Then don't hurt him."

"Don't be an idiot! Puppets in a violent rampage wouldn't listen to anyone—not even their captive!"

"Listen to me," Faustina says, almost tentatively. She was raising her hands, gesturing the marionette to calm down. "You want me to go to the magic circle, right?"

The marionette howled, yet it did not attack.

"Did he treat you well?" Faustina asks. "He didn't hurt you, didn't he?"

The marionette tilted its head, confused with Faustina's words. It seemed to calm down, but its mouth was still stretched into a scream, the gap was all hollow and pitch-black inside.

"You must have been lonely."

"Kid…" Owen murmurs, seeing Faustina slowly walking towards the marionette, only a few steps away from the magic circle.

"I know you don't want to do this. I know you're lonely out there. I know it's painful to be alone. But believe me… I feel lonely too. I feel like that too. I… I felt alone too, just like you.

"When you were taken… I… I felt like I had something to do. I didn't know what exactly what I needed to do, so I obeyed people—I obeyed and thought that they knew better than me." Faustina says and then reached to hold the marionette's hand.

"I'm sorry, for everything you felt," Faustina squeezed and trapped both of the marionette's hand to her grasp. "Believe me… I was told things that let me down. They told me I was no one important… I was nothing. And I believe them. I believed their words. I was no one. I was given a task for their benefit and I didn't have any choice but to succ.u.mb blindly. I had to believe I am doing this for a purpose. I realized I had no choice but to move forward, even if I had many questions."

"Believe in me. I still don't know anything now... but believe me."

Faustina embraced the puppet, "believe in me, Eula."

The marionette's magic circle slowly dimmed and grew vaguer still until it glowed and glimmered—its screaming face gradually disappearing. Owen stared at the girl who was shedding tears with the puppet on her arms. As Owen blinked, he saw light—light in the shape of a hand—caressing the crying girl's back.

The warm light disappeared, as the marionette vanished to nothingness, leaving the girl kneeling holding something in entrapped in her hand, as she embraced the thin air.

. . .

"You… what were you embracing?" Orwell parted his lips. "Faustina… you didn't destroy the essence…"

Faustina bit her lips.

"I didn't," Faustina says. "It belonged to my master."

Orwell stared, silent as his eyes remained fixated at the girl who was glamoured and fashioned to be the duke's daughter. He remained to stare. He admired her, and at the same time, he pitied her. When she was engraved with memories that did not exist, Orwell was told of the whole story. She was a Heilen descendant who had her master, or the woman (who's also the prodigy, Eulalia Fortunatorum, and did not die sixteen years ago) supposedly adopted Faustina and trained her as an apprentice. He also knew her magic was sealed by Eulalia. And when Eulalia died, Jonathan Unsterblich took her body. It was also the same time that the king and the Court magicians and the Clairvoyants formulated a theory that a Heilen may be able to sustain the king's life. The king had his Opus power awakened at a young age which made his cells deteriorate at a rapid rate, and up until now, he survived due to countless medications. It is a theory that with a Heilen stabilizing the king's body (which is somehow unclear), the king shall survive and unleash his full potential. The current king's state makes him unable to use the Opus' full potential, and thus he relies upon the sword of Feuersturm.

"I found the pestle in the cabin inside the marionette," Faustina says. "It belonged to Eula and me."

Orwell eyed a wooden pestle laced with a moldy-green color, few dents to its bottom, and…

"What are those?" Orwell frowned. "May I?"

Faustina nodded and gave him the pestle.

"There are engravings…!" Orwell says as he examines the pestle. "And not just any engraving. It's something I've never seen before."

"And that means…"

"Objects are manipulated with you and your master's memory. A high level of magic. Someone with both skill and knew ancient dark magic." Orwell exclaims. "Essences of the dead cannot be used, Faustina. Objects used by the dead and the captive will automatically be null."

"Wh-what does that mean?" Faustina asks.

"Magic was used on the object," Orwell says. "The object of the dead. But even that would be futile because the dead should be in The Great Flow."

Orwell grinned nervously.

"Faustina, your master may be alive." He says. "And that meant the Warlock may have succeeded in his necromancy!"