2 The Twins.

"A whirlwind of monstrosity."

Those were the words that slipped past the Priest's lips on the dawn of the Prince's birth as he held the newborn in his feeble arms and caressed his soft pink skin and cooed after his faint cries.

The Prince's parents stood before the Priest at the altar, clutching each other as the Queen wailed in dismay.

How could a man as learned as the Royal Priest dismiss their youngest neonate as a carbuncle, an unholy presence?

"He'll be a menace to the Kingdom, My Lord. A fortune as his comes once in a hundred years. I've not quite seen something as peculiar as this in my years of expertise. They say the death of our lawful ancestors nourish his living. 10 noblemen die in sacrifice of inhibiting the unleashing of such a peril, yet, this one finds his way into the world."

The Priest utters, staring at his thumb, clasped by the infant's palm.

In his eyes lay what one would read as misfortune, destruction and death.

How could someone with a soul as pure as a child cause such jeopardy?

What must the Prince go through in the future to have a soul as burdened as his?

"M-Must you be so harsh, Chaplain?" Crowned Head Min II roars.

"He's just a baby, father." The Queen cries.

Handing over the baby to The Queen, The Priest sits back in his seat, analysing the faces of the worried parents and a young boy, in his early childhood.

Of course, it was the Little Prince's brother, next in line to the throne.

"What has my brother done to receive such a brutal foresightedness, father?" He asks, concern dripping off of his voice as he finds his eyes scanning over his baby brother's faces, whilst seated in his Father's lap.

An unceremonious silence settles in the chamber.

"Take a look outside, Min.. dark and ominous clouds have shadowed your Palace. Lightening and the Thunderous sounds surround us. The wind has brought in a change in the Kingdom with the arrival of the Prince and it sure isn't gracious. Your Majesty, his eyes..they allow me to peer into his soul and do you know what I see inside?" The Priest asks.

"What is it, father?" The King implores of him, getting impatient.

"I see absolutely nothing, Min. There's darkness in the depths of his soul. There's alienation, pain, bitterness and the worst of all, vengeance. Believe me when I say this, he is away from the blessings of The Almighty and that my lord, is daunting. The Almighty blesses each and everyone who's found their way into existence with bounty but a soul that's gained life from the blood of his own, remains shut out from The Holy Spirit. He shall lead a desolate and barren life if he makes it beyond the age of 11." He exhales, sucking in air.

"W-Why 11, father?" The Queen asks, tears flowing down her face.

Feelings of celebration faded with agony.

She was a mother after all, wasn't she?

"He will be met with a near death experience as he turns 11, it's inevitable. If he escapes that, he can forfeit any hurdle that life throws in his way. With age, he'll develop distasteful habits, a temper that knows no bounds and will essentially pose threat to ones around him. Might I also add, he will be a master of disguise. He'll bear the skills of a Diplomat and will have the power to sway those around him, rather effortlessly. To cheat those around him will be his only handy quality. He'll live in complex and his soul will beseech true love till the moment he sees death. He's the cursed child."

The Cursed Child.

A baby, 6 hours into existence, had been tagged with a defeatist title.

He'd been portrayed to be a menace, a liability before his Parents who'd been awaiting his arrival.

"What do we do, Father? How can we avert this situation? There has to be a way." The King asks, consoling his eldest child who'd had his ears closed this entire time.

"There is no way we can avoid this as he will show little to none changes in his first few years. There is a way, perhaps… Don't under any circumstances, let him take over the throne. The minute the reigns of the Kingdom are passed in his hands, there is doom written in the Heavens. The Kingdom will collapse and remain a mere name in history. He is in no circumstances able to bear the responsibilities of The People of Baekmin, My Lord. Hell will break loose, there will be no peace. Everyone will die." The Priest says.

He was born 7 minutes too early.

7 minutes could make or break someone's future.

Every minute, every second was precious.

"These words shouldn't leave this room, Chaplain. This is my heir we're talking about."

The Priest nods in response to The Head of The State's instructions.

In the other end of the room, a sharp cry was heard, reverberating in the chamber.

There lay another neonate, born 7 minutes late, the piercing high pitched weep serving as a reminder, there was one more.

"Bring in the other child.." The Priest urges.

The Royal maidservant walks towards the altar with a baby, his cries softer and soothing.

Handing the baby into the arms of the Priest, the cries resume and a babble erupts past the baby's lips as a bubble of snot forms in the corner of his nose.

"The Golden Boy." He mumbles, catching the distraught parent's eyes as their ears perk up.

A ray of hope that pieces past the dark clouds of doom and dismay.

Were the boys born apart by 7 minutes really so distinct from one another?

"He's different, Your Majesty."

————————————

Their fates were sealed.

One was written in black and the other in red.

One was The Enabler and the other, The Inhibitor.