Chapter 25: chapter 25

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the towering stone walls of King Magnus’s castle. The evening air grew colder as the king's men returned, escorting the enigmatic Oracle Ingrid. Her figure was frail, her movements deliberate, guided by instinct rather than sight. She walked with an eerie grace, her milky-white eyes staring into nothingness yet carrying the weight of unseen truths.Ingrid was an oddity in the kingdom—a recluse who lived in a crumbling hut on the outskirts of a distant village. Her shabby robes hung loosely around her frame, the fabric frayed from years of wear. Though she lived a life devoid of luxury, her presence commanded respect and fear in equal measure. Villagers often sought her cryptic visions in exchange for goods, but few dared to linger long in her company.By the time Ingrid arrived at the castle, the great hall was aglow with the flicker of torches. Servants hurried to tend to her, offering her warm water to cleanse her hands, a feast of roasted meat and spiced wine, and fresh clothes far finer than anything she had worn before. Ingrid accepted these gestures without comment, her pale eyes unblinking as though seeing visions in the flickering flames.After her modest dinner, she was led to a private chamber lit by a single candelabra. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting heroic conquests, but Ingrid’s sightless gaze remained fixed on the floor. She sat patiently, hands folded in her lap, waiting.The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and King Magnus entered, his imposing figure casting a shadow across the room. His armor gleamed even in the dim light, and his sharp eyes betrayed both determination and unease. Ingrid’s lips curled into a faint smile as she turned her head slightly toward him.“My king,” she said, her voice soft yet resonant. “It is my pleasure to meet you again.”Magnus paused for a moment, studying the blind woman before him. Despite her worn appearance, there was something unshakably regal about her demeanor.“Ingrid,” he said, his tone formal yet familiar, “how have you been faring?”She tilted her head as if contemplating his question. “I am as I have always been, my lord—guided by the whispers of the unseen and unburdened by the affairs of men. But you… you carry a heavy weight tonight.”The king’s brow furrowed. He had summoned her for counsel, yet her words already pierced through his guarded composure. He pulled a chair and sat across from her, his armor clinking softly.“Ingrid,” he began, his voice steady but edged with impatience, “I summoned you because I have decided to step into that cursed forest. You told me before that the Blood Stone lies within the northern mountains. Now, I need specifics. Where exactly is it? I must send my men to retrieve it.”Ingrid sat motionless, her sightless eyes gazing past the king. A faint, mysterious smile played on her lips, as though she saw a truth beyond his grasp. “My King,” she said, her tone calm yet laced with a cryptic warning, “the Blood Stone is not something you will find easily. It demands a high price from those who seek it. It lies in a place where heaven and hell meet, guarded by creatures of both realms. Yes, it is in the northern mountains, as I told you before. But not all who journey there will see it. Only those with a pure heart, a soul free from earthly sins, can perceive its location.”Magnus’s jaw tightened, his temper barely contained. “Are you suggesting that I, King Magnus, will never find the Blood Stone? That my men and I are unworthy?” His voice rose, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. “You are here to assist me, Ingrid, not to toy with riddles. You will help me find the stone, and I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”Ingrid remained unshaken, her serene smile unwavering. “You are my king, and I will do as you command. But know this—I can only guide you. The Blood Stone’s secrets are not mine to reveal fully.”Magnus straightened, his eyes narrowing. “Then guide me. Will I succeed this time?”Her expression grew grave, the smile fading. “Yes, my King,” she replied, her voice tinged with melancholy. “You will achieve more than ever before. But the cost will be great.”Magnus’s brow furrowed. “How great a cost?”Ingrid hesitated, the weight of her words evident. “I cannot say precisely. But I can sense that the guardian who protects the Blood Stone will reveal himself to you. He has a weakness now.”The king’s interest sharpened, his frustration momentarily replaced by hope. “A weakness? What is it, Ingrid? Tell me.”She paused, her unseeing eyes seeming to pierce through the veil of the present. “A pure soul,” she finally said.Magnus recoiled slightly, confusion flashing across his face. “A pure soul? What does that even mean?”“It is a possibility,” Ingrid explained, her tone deliberate, “that a human girl with a pure soul could be the guardian’s undoing. Or…” Her voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “It could be your end, my King.”Magnus’s face hardened. “Then I will find this girl and use her against him. If she is the key, she will serve my cause. Now,  tell me Ingrid, where can I find her?”Ingrid’s pale, sightless eyes seemed to gaze through him, as though peering into realms far beyond the mortal plane. She smiled faintly, enigmatic as ever. “You do not need to search for her, my King,” she said, her voice calm but laced with an otherworldly certainty. “When the time is right, she will appear before you.”Magnus’s brow furrowed, frustration flickering in his sharp gaze. “That is not an answer, Oracle,” he said, his voice rising. “I cannot leave such matters to chance. I must know where to find her, or how to bring her to me.”Ingrid shook her head slowly, the motion deliberate, almost mournful. “Some truths, my King, cannot be rushed or forced. The girl’s path is intertwined with your own, and she will cross it when fate deems it so. Until then, you must tread carefully, for her arrival will mark the beginning of a trial unlike any you have faced.” “You speak in riddles, Ingrid,” he said, his tone clipped. “Yet your words leave me no choice but to trust in this."Ingrid inclined her head slightly. “I understand, my King. But rest assured, the threads of fate are already weaving. Be careful, Power obtained through sacrifice often leaves scars unseen.”Satisfied with her answer but unwilling to linger on her veiled warnings, Magnus rose from his chair. “I will leave you now, Ingrid. You must be tired from your journey. I will have the maids prepare a cozy room for you to rest.”But Ingrid shook her head, her expression suddenly distant and troubled. “My King,” she said, her voice low, “I cannot stay here. I smell death within these walls. It clings to the air like a shadow. Please, grant me my wish—I must leave tonight. That is the price for my guidance.”Magnus’s eyes darkened at her words. For a moment, his pride bristled, his authority feeling challenged. Yet, he masked his offense with a curt nod. “Very well,” he said, his tone clipped. “You may leave. Guards, escort her back to her village.”Ingrid rose slowly, bowing her head. “Thank you, my King. I must return all that you have offered me, with my deepest apologies.”As the guards led her away, Magnus watched her retreating figure, his mind a storm of questions and doubts. Her cryptic warnings lingered in the air long after she had gone, haunting him like a whisper in the dark. For the first time in years, King Magnus felt the faint stirrings of unease, as if the path ahead was more treacherous than he dared to admit.