GOT King of Dragon

Rhaegar refused his embrace, explaining, "There was a bit of trouble on the road, but it didn't delay our journey." 

"What happened to you? This flower... it looks like the crest of our family," Sam asked while his eyes couldn't stop darting back and forth at the Marsh Marigold. 

Rhaegar didn't hide anything. 

He recounted deciphering the Forest Witch's notes, the search for the Marsh Marigold, and every other detail of the journey. 

Everyone listened with furrowed brows. 

Who could have imagined that in just over a dozen hours, so much could happen? 

Solor stared at the Marsh Marigold skeptically. "Your Highness, magic has disappeared for many years. Are you certain the spell left by the Forest Witch will work?" 

"Let's try it. We don't have any better options, do we?" Rhaegar replied, heading up the stairs to the attic. His voice carried a hint of hope. "The steps for the Whisper of the Dead spell aren't complicated. As long as we have the right materials, the rest depends on talent." 

"If I can't do it, you'll all try one by one." 

The key to triggering the spell lay in pure intention. 

Deep down, Rhaegar rejected the Whisper of the Dead spell. He didn't hold much hope that he could successfully cast it. 

"You're right, Your Highness," Solor said, speechless, gesturing for Babart to follow him upstairs. 

Naturally, Sam followed too, his eyes still glued to the Marsh Marigold. 

--- 

**Inside the Attic** 

The head of the Shadowbinder was still placed in the center of a circle of candlelight. 

Rhaegar stepped over the candles and carefully set the Marsh Marigold atop the head. 

He ordered the servants to bring fresh white dove's blood, then followed the process described in the Forest Witch's notes, painting it onto the head. 

Afterward, he pulled out a piece of paper with the translated spell, a trace of disdain flickering in his eyes. 

Thinking of the shadow creatures they needed to eliminate, he still chanted the spell aloud. 

"Adala... Gujino..." 

The strange incantation flowed from his lips. Rhaegar's expression remained calm, as if he were reading an ordinary book. 

However... 

The head at his feet showed no reaction. 

"Not working?" Rhaegar tilted his head, glanced back at Sam and the others, then tried again. 

This time, Rhaegar narrowed his eyes, focused his mind, and chanted the spell with sincere devotion. 

*Buzz—* 

The Marsh Marigold began to emit a faint glow. 

At the same time, Rhaegar's chanting came to an abrupt stop. 

A sudden heat surged through his body, spreading to every corner of his limbs. His temperature skyrocketed. 

His pale skin turned red in an instant, and wisps of white steam rose from his body, as if he had just stepped out of a steaming cauldron. 

*Whoosh!* 

A sudden flash of fire consumed the paper in Rhaegar's hand, reducing it to ashes that drifted to the floor. 

Rhaegar's half-squinted eyes widened as he stumbled back two steps. 

"My body feels so hot, like my blood is boiling!" 

He hadn't yet realized what was happening, but the high temperature in his body confirmed his suspicion. 

At that moment, Sam hesitated before saying, "Your Highness, I once heard my grandmother say that magic is a creation that chooses its wielder." 

"You are of true dragon blood, made of fire and blood. It's only natural that your body rejects magic meant to awaken the dead." 

Rhaegar cast him a doubtful look, his voice serious. "You understand the rules of magic?" 

"No! I've never come into contact with magic. It's just that the legends of the Forest Witch have been passed down through generations," Sam denied with a shake of his head. "The magic of the Forest Witch is dark and forbidden. Even we, her descendants, cannot practice it." 

"Would you like to try, Lord Sam?" Rhaegar asked, his gaze fixed intently on Sam's face as he stepped out of the circle of candles. 

Magic was an erratic and chaotic force, long vanished from the world. 

Rhaegar had anticipated his failure and wasn't particularly disappointed. However, Sam's words made him notice a glimmer of hope in the lord's expression. 

Sam opened his mouth but hesitated, his face torn with uncertainty. 

"Come on, old Sam. Give it a shot! You've got the Forest Witch's blood in you. Maybe it'll work!" 

Solor gave him a push and said in an icy tone, 

"Anyone here can see how eager and excited Sam is." 

"Alright, I'll give it a try," Sam replied. 

Having his intentions exposed, Sam showed no embarrassment. He patted his large belly and agreed cheerfully. 

Rhaegar rewrote the incantation translation and handed it to him, saying, "Give it a shot, my lord." 

Sam took the translation and examined it carefully. 

As a semi-wild nobleman from Crabclaw Peninsula, Sam's literacy skills were poor. 

Rhaegar had to teach him for quite a while before Sam could memorize the short incantation. 

The attempt began. 

Sam stepped into the circle of candles, holding the skull and the swamp marigold in one hand and the translation in the other. 

With cracked lips, he recited the incantation, 

"Ah-da-la... Gu-ji-no..." 

His voice was deep and muffled, carrying a sense of excitement and anticipation. His body trembled uncontrollably. 

Soon, the incantation was finished. 

Nothing happened. 

Sam stood there in a daze, looking utterly disappointed. 

Placing the skull back on the ground, he sighed, "Prince, it seems I've failed too." 

"It's alright. Magic has been dormant for many years. It's normal for ordinary people to struggle with it," Rhaegar consoled him with a smile, then turned to Solor with a wry grin. "We'll need to think of another solution." 

"Yes, Prince," Solor nodded, though his expression was grim. 

"The Land of Shadows… The tides of magic… Those unreliable semi-wild nobles…" 

Just then, a hoarse and piercing voice abruptly sounded, sending chills down everyone's spine. 

Rhaegar turned around quickly and saw the shadowbinder's skull begin to move. 

The once pale skin of the skull turned rosy, its tightly shut eyes now wide open, and it muttered through gritted teeth. 

The swamp marigold lost its vibrant color, its petals withered and fell, leaving only the stem stuck to the skull's crown, sustaining its vitality. 

Sam, standing closest, turned pale as a sheet. He staggered back in fright, nearly falling to the ground. 

Babart, the most timid among them, trembled and couldn't even speak. 

"My lord Sam, you did it!" 

Rhaegar quietly took a step back and hid behind Solor. 

Who knows what a talking skull might be capable of? He had enough of such bizarre occurrences and wanted nothing to do with it. 

Sam stared at the now-living shadowbinder's skull and slapped himself hard on both cheeks, as if trying to confirm it was real. 

Then, cautiously moving away from the skull, he asked nervously, "Prince, is it really me who brought this skull back to life?" 

Even he found it hard to believe. 

Reciting a few lines of an incantation had brought back a long-lost magic? 

"Who knows? Maybe you have a natural talent for magic," Rhaegar replied evasively, avoiding his gaze. He then directed, "The shadowbinder's skull retains the memories of its life. Ask it how to deal with the shadow creatures." 

Trembling, Sam nodded and approached the edge of the candle circle. Stumbling over his words, he asked, "Tell us who you are, and why your corpse became a killing curse." 

The skull's mouth twitched, and its blank eyes stared at the ceiling, as if lost in thought. 

After a long pause, it murmured faintly, "The tides of magic are surging… ebbing or flourishing…" 

"How was the curse created, and how can it be removed?" Sam stepped closer and pressed for answers. 

"I was a servant of the Lord of Light. The priests foresaw the tides of magic surging and sent their finest shadow-child to sail across the seas, observing the world's changes…" 

"Focus! Tell me how to unleash the curse and how to get rid of it!" Sam grew impatient and kicked the skull. 

Watching this scene, Rhaegar and the others felt a chill run down their spines. 

A talking skull was already creepy enough. 

Interrogating the skull made it all the more horrifying. 

---

(End of Chapter)