Fantasy Clinic: Chronicles of a 3rd-Rate Doctor-Chapter 35: Memory in the Marble

The throne room pulsed with ancient energy.

The sigil on Elric's wrist surged like a heartbeat, matching the glow now spreading from the serpent symbol on the throne. The roots recoiled, not in fear—but confusion. They hissed and writhed like snakes cut from a shared spine.

King Taran gasped, one hand braced against the steps. "You've awakened what sleeps beneath the bloodline."

Elric didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the throne's carvings, slowly unveiled as the roots burned away under the sigil's light. A mural lay hidden there—etched deep into the marble. Warriors. Healers. A tree with a broken crown atop it.

The truth was older than any kingdom.

Lira moved closer, blade still in hand. "Elric, this thing... it's not just magic. It's alive."

"I know," he said quietly. "It's memory. Memory that was never meant to fade."

A loud crack split the air. The last root curled back into the floor with a dying shriek. The throne itself trembled. And then—

The stone behind it split open.

Not violently. Deliberately. As if it were a vault sealed long ago, waiting for someone to ask the right question.

From the rift emerged a faint mist—silver and red, laced with echoes. And in the center of that light...

A child stepped forward.

Not flesh. Not illusion. A memory, made real for a moment.

He bore Elric's face. Younger. Innocent. A crown of thorns rested on his brow.

Taran froze. His voice cracked. "No... not him. Not again."

The boy looked up at Elric. "You left me here."

Elric swallowed hard. "I didn't know you existed."

"You buried me," the child said softly. "To survive. But the throne remembers."

Lira reached for Elric's arm, grounding him. "This isn't just memory. This is you."

The mist thickened. Visions danced through it—Elric's first surgery. His exile. The Root infecting the palace halls. The ancient tree whispering in tongues. All of it was threaded together.

The Root hadn't just bound bodies. It had bound history.

"You were the cure," the boy said. "But you forgot. Now remember us—and finish it."

The child stepped back into the mist.

And vanished.

---

Meanwhile: Outside the Capital

Cai gasped, nearly falling from the wagon.

The convoy jolted to a halt. Sylas grabbed him. "What happened?"

Cai's eyes were wild, gold flaring. "The seal is broken. The throne's memory has opened."

Keera looked up at the distant walls of the city. They shimmered slightly, as if something old and invisible had just awakened.

Veyra whispered, "Elric... what have you done?"

---

Back in the Throne Room

Taran stood.

But something in him had changed. His voice layered with two tones—the man and the monster.

"You think healing is just flesh and blood," he growled. "But some wounds demand obedience. The Root is order. Without it, the world will burn."

Elric stepped forward. "Then I'll take that risk."

His sigil flared again—and this time, it didn't strike. It soothed. Light wrapped around the throne, sealing the cracks with memory, not magic.

And the Root screamed.

Not in pain. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

In fear.

Because for the first time... it was being understood.

Taran stumbled back, clutching his head. "No... no! You can't know it!"

"I don't need to rule," Elric said. "I just need to remember."

The serpent sigil shone on the throne, fully revealed.

The marble beneath their feet rumbled—and deep below, the true Root stirred.

---