The Red Candle

Chapter Seven

I felt something prickling in my chest. There was a cold, painful sensation crawling on my throat. I felt the anguish of the queen, the prince, and all the innocent lives that were taken by the hands of death. If that was really my uncle, well I wasn't even sure so I have to ask Dolora herself. No dead souls lie about the acts of the living. My vision shifted back where I sat before a table along with Dolora. I looked at her and all the life and beauty faded on her face. Her eyes were no longer brown but were pure milky white, like her gaze at my direction was still and blank. Her face was withered and bruised, wounds traced across her cheeks. Her hair was frizzy, her mantle was worn. The crown was no longer on her head. I saw a wound, a slash of blade across her chest. I already knew who did that.
Dolora smiled coldly and spoke. "Now, you know everything..."
"That man," I interrupted her words. "The one who killed you and the one who has that ring..."
Dolora nodded. "Yes, he is. I'm certain that he's familiar to you-"
"Uncle Henry." I said. "How did you know each other?"
Dolora's smile faded. "It was a long time ago when I was still a princess and he was a knight, fighting for the honor of New Mandriom. One time, when my father was ambushed by bandits, Henrick was one of the brave souls who protected my father, the king. After that, when they arrived at the palace, I was the one who helped him heal his wounds. It was the time when Henrick and I got to know each other. I became his friend, for he had no one else in his life. No other friends, no family. I was also helping him with his needs. Money, gold, food, and I even gave good words to my father about him. Soon enough, my father proclaimed Henrick as one of the chieftains, because I knew he deserved it. His combat skills were terrific, one of the greatest swordsmen among our army. From time-to-time, we were seeing each other. Every after their combat training, every after gatherings and feasts. Eventually, we became intimate with one another. I treated him like a brother.
"We often exchanged stories. His ventures and combats across our kingdom, and my life as a princess, listening all-day to the law firms of the royal council. Everything was well, but not until I was arranged to have a marriage with Antos. I had no other choice but to follow our tradition. After all, Antos was a good and courageous man. I loved him wholly with my heart. Every moment with him was memorable. He made my days in the palace colorful and joyous. At the same time, it was also when Henrick confessed his love for me. I was confused and, reluctantly, I knew I had to tell him the truth. The truth that he needed to hear. The truth that Antos is the love of my life. From that time, Henrick  and I barely talked. We avoided interacting with one another, for we knew that it was the best thing for both of us. Although that reluctant act pinched pain in my heart.
"There was a time when half of the palace was on fire. I was genuinely grateful to him, for he was the one who saved my son from fire, back when he was still an infant. I reached my arms to him to express my gratitude, but he didn't even dare to look me in the eyes. It was the time when our friendship became distant to one another and cold like the glaciers in the northern lands. But I never imagined that his feelings for me had turned into hatred. Once he discovered the ring of immortality, he sneaked into our personal bedroom and it was too late for us to know that it was him who stole it.
"And what about the ring?" I asked.
"The ring of immortality. A cursed artifact and treasure from the royalties of the Old Mandriom. It is a ring that grants its bearer immortality. His or her body will heal from any physical torment and will never get old, and will be free from any sickness."
Now, I understand why it was possible for my uncle to live long enough. No wonder why he was knowledgeable about the past of the Mandriom.
"One time, when my husband found it, he kept the ring from anyone, from all people who may be blinded by its curse." The queen continued. "Antos hid it to save everyone from the blessing of the ring's misfortune. Until, one day, Henrick heard about the power of the ring, and deep inside my thoughts, I suspected that it was him who stole it, once it went missing from our room."
I crouched my eyebrows. "What about the curse of the ring? You said that it gives immortality but at what cost?"
Her milky eyes stared at me. "It has many consequences. First among all, the wearer has to kill someone for every year he wears it. Otherwise, the ring won't grant them the immortality they wished."
My senses froze. I realized that if my uncle was living for more than a century, then he already killed countless souls...
"Yet all the souls he killed would never attain the peace of afterlife." Dolora said. Her face looked paler and paler for every second that has passed. "Their souls will flourish in evil and will turn vengeful. None among the spirits of the slain may harm the ring's bearer, yet they will all haunt his or her descendants. From his children, to grandchildren, and so on..."
My mind was baffled once more. So if grandma and my mom and myself are the ones that were being plagued by these spirits, and if uncle has the ring... It meant only one thing. He was not my uncle, but was my great-grandfather. It was only the four of us who lived in Mandriom. Henry told me that our other relatives lived in other countries, and it was his choice to move away and live separately from them. However, I never hear anything from them. Neither Henry nor my grandma did. Perhaps he lied about it. And it was only then when I wondered why my grandpa and my dad died consecutively, year after year. I remembered that I was seven when grandpa died in sickness, and I was eight when dad died in a car accident. Even when I was young and little, I knew that Henry and my father were not on good terms due to a dispute with a land property. From then, from the moment that I've been talking with the ghost of Dolora Windister, from the moment that I've discovered the truth about uncle Henry, I started to be skeptical about my family's lineage.
Suddenly, I remembered another thing that grandma said to me. "Is it true that they always appear to us whenever we turn nineteen?"
The queen nodded with a faint smile.
"But why at age nineteen?" I asked. "I don't understand."
Dolora said nothing. I waited for her to answer yet a figure of a young man appeared beside her. The young prince's face was also withered and dead, like her mother's.
I bowed to the prince. "Young King Bardon."
Bardon's face remained still.
"From the day that he died..." Dolora continued. "The supper that commemorates not only his coronation but also his nineteenth birthday."
Now, it clearly made sense to me. I recalled that it was his nineteenth birthday. A day that was supposed to be a joyous one. A day that turned out to be one of the bloodiest history of the New Mandriom. All this sacrilege was done by my uncle, or by my great-grandfather.My heart was flushed by guilt. My throat was constricted by remorse for their family. I found myself shedding tears as I knelt before them.
"My highnesses," I said with a shivering voice. "I am deeply sorry for all the blasphemy that my blood has committed against you and against the entire kingdom." Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the blank stares of Dolora and Bardon at me.
"I am ready to take any consequences, in order to end this madness." I pleaded. "I am willing to do anything to put an end to this curse, and I cannot bear to see any souls turning restless due to a greedy act of my kin."
Dolora and Bardon gave each other a glance, as if the two had a conversation through their eyes. The silence was broken until the queen said. "There is a way to break the curse of the immortality ring."
I opened my eyes and looked at her. "What is it, Dolora?"
"Are you willing to do anything?" She asked.
I nodded, my eyes sparkled with eagerness and hope.
"Get up and take a seat." Dolora said. "The curse of the ring can only be broken once the ring is destroyed, or when it is casted into flames. From then, all the vengeful spirits of the cursed ring will be free, even the chained ones."
"What do you mean by the chained ones?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention? Henrick may cage a soul he has slain by chaining the hands of their corpse, so that they won't be able to scatter throughout the world of the living, and won't be able to follow his descendants. Once their chains have been broken, their soul may linger once more behind their victim's back."
Another thought came to mind. "So does it mean that my uncle has done it several times?"
Dolora nodded. That was why something was strange about him. He always said that he has a schedule of a trip to their church, and sometimes with the bishops. Even during this last christmas season, uncle Henry did not visit us in our home. Perhaps during those times, he was busy taking some of his victims' bodies on chains. Perhaps he was somewhere else to search for the blood and flesh that he will offer in exchange for the power of the immortality ring. Soon, more figures of dead men emerged beside Dolora. I knew who they were. My eyes were familiar to their pale and withered face, bruised and wounded arms and legs that were covered by black cloak. Each of them held a dagger, with their bloody red eyes staring at me. They were the ones who I saw in my dream.
"Henrick Al'Dor was one of the kingdom's toughest warriors." Dolora said. "As he had the ring, he has slain numbers and numbers of souls in the battlefield." She cleared her throat. "All of them, along with me and my son, have seen how sincere you are for redemption. All these souls before you await the justice and peace which we yearn for ages."
I bowed my head. I felt sorry for these souls, as they must be in peace, swimming through the oceans of freedom in the afterlife. While there was my great-grandfather, who took hundreds of lives just to sustain his immortal state. He did this all for his love that has been rejected by a woman whom he loved the most. His anger led to a carnage that released swarming vengeful souls in the world of the living. Even up to today, probably he was people for the sake of power. Perhaps it was time for him to stop. Even grandma, my mom, and I were suffering a punishment which we did never deserve. I will do everything for the sake of these spirits, no matter what it takes. I set my eyes on the queen, the prince, and all the dead souls. "I will do it. I will do everything to destroy the ring of immortality. I will do everything to free you all."
All of them made no expressions. Dolora smiled, and all the spirits behind her had vanished in darkness, as well as the prince.
"A righteous choice. No one must ever cheat death. Otherwise, death itself tends to torment the living." Dolora stood. "We wish you luck, Sandra Al'Dor. By the way, you must not waste any moment and go away. I, my son, and the others may have forgiven you, yet don't think my sister is as forgiving as I am. "
"Your sister?" I wondered.
Dolora's face was brushed by confusion. "Oh, I thought you already knew. Be quick before Simoune takes your life..." With that, her body dispersed in the air. I was left in the middle of darkness, with a table, meals and candles standing before me. I stared at the red candles where crimson blood trickled down from its fire, down to the table. Everything I heard wasn't just about the curse of the ring, but also about the blasphemy of an ancient ritual of the New Mandriom, particularly the prayers of the red candles. These candles stood for many meanings; good health, love, peace, and prosperity for a soul, whether for the living or for the dead. However, this was a ritual that was blasphemed, rooting from a hatred of a single soul. A candle that was supposed to hear prayers and devotion, which instead witnessed carnage and desecration. The curse of the immortality that drove my great-grandfather into this madness, and the curse of the red candles that plagues our lives with vengeful souls.