Fray Parada

Midnight shrouded the vast, unknown sea as the wooden ship sliced through the restless waves. Its sails billowed against the howling wind, propelling it forward into the heart of darkness. In the captain's room, a sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air. A burly young man named Fray Parada, with jet-black hair, piercing black eyes, and an aura as cold as ice, sat at a desk. His mind was consumed by thoughts that drowned him in a sea of contemplation.

"Let us first attend to the matter at hand," Fray muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, after an eternity of deep introspection. The sun began to peek over the horizon, casting an ethereal glow through the small circular window. With a flick of his hand, he extinguished the flickering light of the magic lamp on his desk, casting the room into an eerie darkness. It was time to emerge from the captain's quarters and face the sea's restless embrace.

Stepping onto the deck, Fray's eyes scanned the vast expanse of the azure ocean. A sense of insignificance washed over him as he beheld the boundless blue stretching to the distant horizon. With measured steps, he made his way to the bow of the ship, an unwavering determination etched upon his face. From the depths of his pocket, he retrieved a small telescope and trained it upon the direction they sailed. Through its lens, he caught a glimpse of a colossal, indistinct shadow looming on the distant horizon.

"It is immense," Fray thought, his voice swallowed by the wind.

"Sir, good morning," a calm voice interrupted the haunting silence from behind.

Fray turned, his gaze piercing through the darkness, meeting the eyes of Montaser, an old man with silver hair and an attire befitting a butler. "Good morning, Montaser," Fray replied without averting his gaze. "There has been a change of plans. Inform the captain to alter our course. We shall retreat."

"Retreat? But sir, we have dedicated substantial time and resources to this attack," Montaser interjected, his voice laced with concern. "The appearance of this dungeon has persisted for four months, and its impending explosion within the next two months is inevitable unless we cleanse it promptly."

Fray's countenance darkened, his face a mask of solemnity. "With our current power, we cannot vanquish this dungeon," he declared, each word weighed down by an immense burden.

"Understood, sir," Montaser acquiesced, his voice resolute. Though a multitude of questions filled his mind, he remained silent. As a servant, his duty was to execute Fray's orders without question, even if the path ahead seemed shrouded in shadows.

"My bond with Narod has grown stronger after assimilating the memories of Yassine," Fray thought, his expression grave. "Yet, my progress remains frustratingly slow. I must grow stronger swiftly."

As the sun's rays breached the horizon, life stirred aboard the ship. Fray retreated to his quarters, settling at his desk once more. He removed a concealed necklace, a twisted string fashioned from an enigmatic metal, adorned with cryptic symbols and minute inscriptions. At its end, a black gem dangled ominously.

"Morcal, awaken," Fray commanded, his voice resonating with an authority that sent shivers down the spine.

In response, the black gem emitted a blinding white glare, and Fray felt the potent surge of the laws emanating from the necklace. Without warning, a ghostly apparition materialized before him—an enigmatic white crow, its eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge.

"Boy! How do you know my name?" the white crow squawked, its voice echoing with a mix of curiosity and astonishment.

The necklace, known as the "Spirit Gate," stood as one of humanity's legendary relics—a weapon of unparalleled might. For generations, the Prada family had harnessed its power, forging contracts with spirits. Little did they know, the necklace concealed a guardian spirit of its own—a spirit that would only manifest when called by its true name: Morcal.

"The particulars matter not. I command you to activate the loyalty contract," Fray stated with an unwavering gaze.

"What? How do you possess knowledge of the loyalty contract?" Morcal retorted, his voice tinged with surprise.

Through the Spirit Gate, the Parada family had harnessed the spirits' might, binding them in contracts for centuries. These contracts, protected by the necklace and enforced by its guardian, carried severe consequences for transgression. The loyalty contract, the most treacherous of them all, had been abolished centuries ago, deemed too perilous even for the Parada lineage.

"Morcal, questions displease me. Obey my command," Fray proclaimed, his visage a testament to his resolute determination.

"Why do I tremble before this mere child?" Morcal pondered, his voice quivering. The answer to his fear would be revealed in due time.

"Very well," Morcal acquiesced reluctantly. "Several individuals have violated the contract. Shall I enforce their punishment?"

"No," Fray responded, his voice laced with a chilling indifference. "Compile a comprehensive list of their transgressions. I shall personally decide their fate henceforth."

"As you wish," Morcal replied, resigned to his newfound servitude.

"They must be quivering in fear," Fray thought, his countenance devoid of mercy. The consequences of the loyalty contract's violation reverberated through the Parada family, instilling a potent sense of dread within its members.

.....

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location, two figures trudged through a snowstorm, enveloped by its biting cold and blinding sheets of snow. Abruptly, they halted in unison, their gazes locking.

"The loyalty contract has been reactivated. The guardian of the necklace has awakened," one of them murmured, their voice laden with disbelief.

"Do you mean the contract that the family forsook ten thousand years ago?" the other responded, astonishment seeping into their words. "I believed the guardian's name had long faded into oblivion within our ranks. How could this come to pass?"

"I know not, but it appears the current head of the family is no ordinary individual," the first figure replied, their voice tinged with trepidation.

"Do you comprehend the ramifications?" the second figure inquired, their voice heavy with the weight of impending doom.

"Yes, he now possesses knowledge of our existence. Should he desire, he can command the guardian to exterminate us," the first figure concluded, a deep sigh punctuating their words. "Indeed, this is a most troublesome development."

.....

The saga of Fray Parada, the awakening of the loyalty contract, sent shivers down the spines of those who had forsaken their oaths. In the depths of darkness, a power long forgotten had reemerged, threatening to extinguish any who dared defy it.