The legend of the Demonic monk

Curse

The darkness in the cell was banished by the many torches carried in the hands of the guards. At the front of the group facing the body hanging on one side limp on the cross were three men.

One of them, who was pacing back and forth in front of the cross, looking at the body like he was ready to cut it into pieces, put it back together only to cut into pieces once again. He was wearing a purple robe with gold trimmings where the buttons keeping it closed together were sparkling and shining in the torch light in a rainbow of colors. The belt keeping his robe closed at the hip was luxurious too, sparkling with gold. The sword's scabbard in his right hand was metallic also, making it look more like a ceremonial weapon than a weapon used in war.

The other two were dressed in the same way. They were priests of the Holy Sun church. Green long robes with a black cross surrounded by a flaming sun on the chest above their hearts. A silver dagger was at their waist and on top of their bald heads was a circular black hat with gold trimmings barely covering the top of their heads.

At the moment, they were holding a huge book together. By the looks of it, it was very heavy. The letters that formed the words were shining gold and at the moment were shimmering on the pages as they started reading them in a singing voice. Their baritone voice started to echo in the cell. The letters and words started glowing as they came out of the book and started floating. The golden light of the words started to dim as the music continued and started to turn darker by the moment. When they finally turned black and seemed to swallow all the light in the cell, making the torches flicker and extinguish them one by one.

Then the priests let go of the book which continued to float in the air in front of them. Continuing singing the words, they drew the daggers out and approached the dark words. At this point in time, the last torch flickered and got extinguished, leaving just a puff of smoke slowly rising in the darkness.

The other people in the cell couldn't stop themselves from shivering witnessing the scenes unfolding in front of their eyes. Even the agitated man furrowed his eyebrows. One of the priests turned his eyes to the man. His voice echoed in the man's mind.

"It's too late to stop now. Once the ceremony begins, it must be carried out no matter what. The price is too steep otherwise! If we stop we would all be dragged through the gates of hell. Or even worse, open the gates of hell into our own world! You wanted this, so stop doubting!"

The music grew in intensity as their daggers plunged into the darkness of the words. The darkness shimmered and then started to seep into the blades. When the darkness was done, the daggers turned black and glowed in the darkness around.

The priests inversed their grips on the daggers and approached the prone body hanging on the cross while continuing singing. But the song started to turn gloomy and everybody started to feel threatened as their hearts started to feel like it was being squeezed in their chests.

The priests put their free hands on the fallen body and it started to float in the air in front of them. The remaining ropes holding him tied to the cross snapped as the body righted itself horizontal, floating between the two priests, each on one side.

Then the priest on the left side of the body stabbed his own palm through. But no blood came out. The dagger seemed to have taken all of it for itself. He felt the dagger feeding itself on his essence, but he kept singing. The other priest gestured to the other man to step forward.

The man hesitated for a moment looking at the priest and the body floating in the air. The priest's voice echoed in his mind.

"Stop hesitating! You're a king! It's long past the time for you to be indecisive. Let me tell you that if we don't let the daggers drink yours and our blood, this person will be uncontrollable once awaken! This way we'll bind him and make him unable to cause us harm. Now stop dawdle and get over here already."

The king nodded and finally stepped forward, not seeing the priest's smirk. It was finally happening. All the machinations of the Holy Church were finally paying off. This i***t was cutting his own hand and giving it to them on a silver platter.

The other priest finally felt it was time. With the dagger gripped in his hand and through his other hand, raised them to the sky above his head. And then the dagger came down, sinking in the left forearm of the floating body, making a long cut as he dragged the dagger along the forearm. Darkness started to seep into the flesh wound. Letters of darkness started to form on the edges of the wound and started to glow, making the wound slowly start to close itself. Then he raised the dagger again and stabbed the left thigh, doing the same thing.

At this moment the wound on the forearm closed and black flames flickered into existence on top of it. Smell of burning flesh started to permeate through the air. Taking the dagger out, he turned his head toward his partner, who now was holding the king's hand in his. With a nod, his partner plunged the dagger into the united palms, through the back of his own hand and coming out through the palm of the king. Then, it sank in the right thigh.

Flames appeared on the left thigh wound and the smell of burning got more intense. Then, it was the turn of the right forearm. Another spark of flames appeared on the right thigh. When the dagger came out of the last wound, the book floating in the air came above the body and slowly started to disintegrate and some kind of ashes flowed down and entered the body. The flames came alive with a resounding whoosh of incandescent air and started to reach out to each other, engulfing the hands and feet in flames.

The left side priest stabbed the dagger into the forehead of the fallen body. It was almost the end of the cursing ceremony. He felt the dagger vibrate as it appeared to melt and enter the skull it penetrated. Flames came out of the skull too. One more dagger and the ceremony will be a success! He felt his heart turn giddy.