SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 44: Drace’s Story

Chapter 44: Drace’s Story

The journey back to the kingdom was quiet, the tension palpable in the air. Morvane, Crimson, and Medas were deeply engrossed in thought as they tried to process the weight of what Drace had just revealed to them. But for Drace, the past few days—filled with fear, pain, and running—seemed like nothing compared to the turmoil of his past, the events that led him to where he was now.

Later that night, after they made camp, Morvane sat by the fire, watching Drace as he stared into the flames. It was clear that the young man was holding something back. His body seemed weary, both physically and emotionally, as though every movement was an effort.

"Drace," Morvane called gently, his voice not demanding but inviting. "Tell us what happened. We want to understand—your past, the awakening ceremony... everything."

Drace hesitated, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, as though afraid of reliving the memories. But after a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and tinged with bitterness.

"I didn’t know... not at first."

He paused, then exhaled sharply. "At the awakening ceremony, when I was marked... something they called a power. But it wasn’t a power. Not like the others. I didn’t know how to control it, how to wield it. It wasn’t like flying, or manipulating fire, or healing. I couldn’t do anything at first, so I just... tried. I tried everything."

Drace’s eyes glazed over as the memories of the ceremony replayed in his mind.

"I remember raising my hand, trying to summon something. I thought I could do it like everyone else—like they told me I would. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. And then, suddenly, I felt a rush of... energy, like something inside me was burning. But it wasn’t power, it was something wrong. A presence I couldn’t control. I knew something was off, but I didn’t understand it. Not until later."

Morvane and Medas exchanged uneasy glances, trying to grasp the significance of what Drace was saying. Crimson remained silent, his expression hard but his eyes troubled.

"After the ceremony, I went home," Drace continued, his voice quieter now. "My parents were there. They welcomed me, asked what I’d awakened. I didn’t know what to say, so I just... told them I didn’t know yet."

Drace’s hands trembled slightly, and he closed his eyes, clearly reliving the moment.

"They didn’t press me for details. They were happy, hopeful. My father told me that it didn’t matter what power I had, as long as I could control it. They didn’t know, not yet, that I had no idea what I had awakened... or how dangerous it could be."

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows over Drace’s face. He seemed lost in the past, his gaze distant.

"Days passed, and I tried... I tried to do what they said. I practiced, thinking maybe I could figure it out. But every time I tried, it only got worse. One day, when I was in the kitchen with my mother, I accidentally dropped a cup. And then it happened."

Drace’s voice cracked slightly as he looked up, his expression strained.

"Bad luck. It was like a wave hit her. She slipped on the wet floor and fell. She wasn’t hurt badly, but it scared her. And then my father... He came in and yelled at me. He blamed me. He said I’d been careless, that I had no control. I tried to apologize, but my words—my voice—seemed to make everything worse. He just got angrier, said I was irresponsible. He didn’t understand. No one did."

Drace’s breathing grew heavier, and he clenched his fists tighter.

"I tried to explain, but every time I spoke, I feel like it’s making things worse. It wasn’t just accidents. It was like... everything I did, everything I touched, started going wrong. It got to the point where my father couldn’t even look at me without being frustrated. My mother... she stopped coming near me. She said it was like I brought misfortune. And I didn’t know how to stop it."

Morvane leaned forward, his voice gentle but insistent. "What did you do then?"

Drace’s eyes welled with emotion as he wiped his face with his sleeve. "I ran. After one argument, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like everything around me was falling apart, and it was all because of this... curse. I left without a word, just... disappeared."

Medas sighed, his heart heavy. "Your family..."

"They didn’t deserve it," Drace whispered, his voice barely audible. "I ruined everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it."

For a long time, the group sat in silence, each of them processing what Drace had just revealed. The young man, though once full of anger and defiance, now seemed fragile—his past filled with pain and regret.

Drace finally stood up, shaking his head as though trying to banish the memories from his mind.

"I don’t want your pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just want this curse to end. I want to be free of it."

Morvane stood up as well, his voice steady but firm. "We’re not here to pity you, Drace. We’re here because we want to help. We’ll find a way to lift this curse. Together."

Drace looked at him, unsure.

"How?" he asked quietly.

Morvane stepped closer, his eyes locking with Drace’s. "We’ll find out. But you’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to run."

Drace stared at him for a long time before giving a small nod, as though the weight of his words hadn’t fully settled in yet.

Drace paused, his voice trembling as the memories resurfaced. His gaze fell to the ground, his hands shaking as he struggled to find the strength to speak.

"Actually... after two weeks, I came back to the house," he continued, his words now heavy with guilt. "I didn’t want to, but I felt like I had no choice. I thought maybe—just maybe—they would accept me again, or at least try to understand."

He inhaled sharply, and for a moment, it seemed like he was gathering his strength before continuing.

"My father saw me when I returned. But he wasn’t the same man. He was drunk—probably couldn’t even tell who I was. His eyes were bloodshot, his words slurred. And he... he yelled at me again. Called me useless, said I had no power. Told me that I was a failure. I... I wasn’t prepared for that."

Drace’s voice cracked, and he looked up, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "I couldn’t take it. The way he looked at me—like I was nothing. I felt so small, so worthless. But that rage inside me, it was like it had been building for days, weeks, months... all the anger I had buried deep inside finally came out."

His chest heaved as he tried to suppress his emotions, his voice now a whisper.

"I... I yelled at him. I wished—I told him I wished he wasn’t my father. I told him I wished both him and my mother would die. I didn’t think, I didn’t understand what I was saying. It was just words, fueled by pain and anger."

Drace closed his eyes tightly, the image of that night burning in his memory. "And... it happened. Right then and there. They... they both died. My mother, my father. They... they lost their lives because of me. The curse. It wasn’t just bad luck anymore—it was destruction. And it came from me. My words. My anger. My curse."

He choked on a sob, his hands covering his face as the tears finally fell. His body trembled as though the weight of that moment was crushing him.

"They didn’t deserve it," Drace whispered through the tears. "They didn’t deserve to die because of me. But I couldn’t stop it. My curse... it took them from me. And I’ve been running from it ever since."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Drace sat hunched over, his sobs barely audible, but the pain was evident in every word he had spoken. The group of them—Morvane, Medas, and Crimson—stood there, silent, each of them absorbing the sheer weight of what Drace had just revealed.

Crimson, usually the composed and unshakable one, was visibly affected. His brows were furrowed in sorrow, and there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Medas, always the leader, looked troubled, his face drawn with concern.

Morvane, however, was the first to step forward. He knelt down beside Drace, his hand gently resting on the young man’s shoulder.

"You were just a child," Morvane said softly, his voice steady despite the weight of the words. "You didn’t mean for any of this to happen. The curse, the words you said—they were born out of anger, but not out of malice. You didn’t choose this path. None of this was your fault."

Drace sat in the silence, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on his shoulders. His eyes, still red from the tears he had shed moments before, now hardened with a deep sense of resignation. His voice was barely audible, but it carried a weight that seemed to reverberate through the air.

"I... I was the one who caused the failed awakening ceremony," Drace confessed, his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. "I’m the reason it didn’t work."

Morvane, Medas, and Crimson all froze, the realization dawning upon them slowly. The air around them seemed to grow thick with disbelief.

"What?" Crimson’s voice broke the silence, his tone sharp with disbelief. "What do you mean, you were the one behind it?"

Drace swallowed hard, feeling the bitterness of his words as he spoke them aloud for the first time.

"I didn’t know what I was doing at first. But after everything that happened to me, I realized I had this power. This curse. I can manifest bad luck, and that bad luck can affect people in ways they can’t control."

He paused, his eyes flickering with a mixture of guilt and sorrow as he looked down at the ground.

"Every 15-year-old, like me, was supposed to be marked during the awakening ceremony. But I didn’t want anyone to suffer like I did. I didn’t want anyone to have to carry this curse."

Drace’s voice wavered as he continued, "So, I used my power. I used it to manifest the bad luck that would prevent anyone from being marked. I made sure the ceremony wouldn’t succeed. I made sure everyone would be left without their powers. And it worked."

The shock was evident on all their faces. Crimson, Medas, and Morvane stared at him in stunned silence, unable to fully comprehend what Drace was confessing.

"You... you did this?" Medas asked, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

"Yes," Drace said quietly, his gaze never leaving the floor. "I did it. I thought... I thought I could stop the curse from ruining anyone else’s life. But all I did was make things worse. I never wanted anyone else to feel the way I did. I didn’t want anyone to lose their family, to lose everything because of a curse they didn’t ask for."

Crimson’s expression grew grim, and his usual calm demeanor seemed to crack under the weight of Drace’s revelation.

"So, you intentionally sabotaged the ceremony? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

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