Chapter 356: Six Figures to shake the World - Madam Villanelle's true Identity?
How could this figure be Merlin?
Darcie found it too inconceivable, to the extent that no questions, doubt, or thoughts birthed in her mind for several moments. It was almost as if some inner workings within her had shut down momentarily.
Merlin was but the greatest wizard known to the wizardkind and muggles alike. Even the likes of Professor Dumbledore and the Dark Lord could only step a foot behind him in accomplishments and powers if they were of his generation. Not to mention, the sheer shadows left behind by Merlin's legends had already become a myth. Much less needed to be said about the person himself.
And here he was, Merlin in his entirety, laughing merrily and donning a mysterious identity.
Blue Seat of the Order of the Immortal Lotus!
These words brought Darcie to reality, making her realize it was all but a cruel beginning, as there were five more colors.
An even crueler realization was that this was a round table, with no one person acting as the leader.
What did that mean?
Were the rest of the members comparable to Merlin's might? Who were these legends? And how were they still alive?
Then there was Madam Villanelle, Green Seat. Her face was like others as well, blurred by the green mist. But, from time to time, she kept regaining her true appearance by which Darcie knew her.
"Let's continue," Green Seat urged, bringing a stop to the laugh.
"Cough!" Merlin paused and looked to his right, his gaze briefly staying on Darcie before moving on to Violet Seat. "If there's someone who deserves the title of Sage, then it's you, Your Royal Excellency, the Beloved of God," the wizard proclaimed reverently. "When all would have asked for Wealth, Immortality, Powers, and old Desires, you were prudent enough to ask for Wisdom. You are the Sealer of Demons and Protector of the Faith. Darcie…"
Merlin looked back at the young Malfoy, his unseen eyes penetrating her insignificant figure.
"… Violet Seat is the greatest monarch of this world," Merlin declared, gesturing at Violet Seat. He is… King Solomon!"
Darcie mechanically turned her head to observe Violet Seat, who seemed to smile at her benevolently, despite the mist hiding his appearance.
It all made sense to Darcie now. At this moment, she finally knew why the objects hovering over Violet Seat had seemed familiar to her.
'The signet ring is the Seal of Solomon,' Darcie reflected, shocked beyond shock. 'The key is the Key of Solomon, but its true appearance should be a grimoire. And the throne is Solomon's Throne, one of the greatest magical devices described in the ancient magical texts.'
Yet, the thing that jolted her thoughts the most was the discrepancy between Merlin's and Solomon's eras.
Solomon's era stretched from 1000 BCE to 900 BCE, while Merlin was from the early middle ages, way after Solomon's time.
How could these two be sitting together side by side, transcending time and any strand of logical sense?
Darcie couldn't find her way around this question, and could only helplessly wait to get to the answer.
However, it wasn't like the name Malfoy was unknown to the kings. Armand Malfoy, the progenitor of the Malfoy family, had arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror. And even if they didn't speak of it much, the Malfoys still took great pride in their French ancestry.
Being noble and pure was in their blood.
Darcie took a deep breath and gave a curtsy to the King as one was expected to give to a monarch, especially to a mythical monarch. "Darcie Lucius Malfoy greets King Solomon."
King Solomon nodded. "No need, young lady," he said, plainly, but not unkindly. "Don't think so highly of me. Not here, among these eminent groups of legends. Let me introduce Red Seat, and you would naturally understand."
"Be careful with your words, Solomon," Red Seat giggled.
Darcie instinctively felt a threat from that laugh. This legend wasn't as friendly to her as others, she reflected.
"I always choose my words prudently," King Solomon said, not minding the laugh. "You are the greatest Potioneer known to wizardkind, and even if you were at second, then dare someone would claim the first place? Your attainments in Transfiguration even surpass your Potioneering. Your lady mother was one of the three thousand Oceanid Nymphs, and there are still thousands of wizards, witches, and ordinary folks worshiping you in ancient cults, spread throughout the globe. Yet, all these things pale in front of your beauty and charm."
Darcie's heart was thumping already.
King Solomon's head turned to give her a look before eying Red Seat once again. "You are Circe, the myth beyond myths." (-pronounced Kirke-)
The old king had said it true. Darcie naturally understood why there was no ant in this group, but only titans, their identities grander than the last. Now that she knew who Red Seat was, how could she not understand why King Solomon hadn't mentioned Circe's father, but only her mother?
Circe was one of the, if not alone, greatest witches from Greek Mythology, and was believed to be the daughter of Helios, the God of the Sun; a Titan. Her origins were truly unknown, lost in the fog of history.
Moreover, Circe was believed to be quite notorious in her ways, the mightiest enchantress of her time. No wonder she didn't appreciate her decision to force Indigo Seat's Candidacy on Darcie getting voted out by others.
'She is trouble,' Darcie thought, quite aware of her open mouth and wide eyes. It all made sense now. Zygmunt Budge, the greatest potioneer Darcie knew from the recent magical history, was quite eccentric as well.
"You skipped half the good parts, Solomon," Circe said, giggling. "I know you still have many things to share about me."
"No." King Solomon rejected the temptation.
Darcie almost felt like the old king was a touch afraid of talking more about her.
"Circe, please continue," Green Seat announced.
Suddenly, Circe's giggles paused and then vanished altogether. "Very well," she said, almost sneering. "If you were to call Orange Seat a god, then that wouldn't be wrong, young lady."
"Now, now," Orange Seat chuckled. "No need to create misunderstandings. I am no God. Just a man who knows some underhanded tricks."
"Humph! Don't interrupt!" Circe rebuked. "He is the one who knows the deepest secrets of the interrelationship between the material and the divine. And why say more when these words are enough? He is the author of Hermetica, the epitome of mysteries, knowledge, and divine texts. And he is the mightiest Alchemist"
A name sprouted from Darcie's tongue. "Hermes Trismegistus!"
Darcie's gaze went up, landing on the objects over this figure's head. There was a book covered in orange-colored mist, the Hermetica. Then this book took the shape of a rod, with two wings at the top, and two snakes coiling up on it, reaching the top. She had her doubts. Not anymore.
'That's Rod of Caduceus,' Darcie told herself. 'The mythical Staff of Hermes!'
No wonder Nicolas Flamel was his student. If someone knew the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone, then it was this figure; a person supposed to be the combination of two gods, the Greek God Hermes and the Egyptian God Thoth.
"Don't look at me like that," Hermes T. said, his tone rueful. "I just have some minor accomplishments on the path of Alchemy, nothing more. I dare not claim to be the greatest. Haha! Let me introduce…"
"I don't need others to introduce me," Yellow Seat said suddenly, his voice still as far from Darcie as it was near to her. "I am Abdul Alhazred."
'What?!'
Darcie couldn't help but express great shock at the name. She obviously knew him but had never once believed he was a real person, but only a fantasy.
But if he was real, then what about all the evil things related to him? Were there beings in this world called the Great Old Ones?
Abdul Alhazred was the author of the darkest book in the world, the Necronomicon; a book of magic so evil that it was known to invariably drive the users totally, irredeemably insane. If there was someone who was neck-deep in forbidden magics and rituals, the darkest of their kinds, then it was him. And even more infamous were his dealings with the Great Old Ones; a pantheon of demonic extraterrestrial gods.
'No wonder he is the one who brought Voldemort here,' Darcie thought.
What was this kind of individual doing here? Was he even real? How could the likes of Merlin, Solomon, Circe, and Hermes T. tolerate his existence?
And then Darcie recalled something. This was the same Order who was going to let Voldemort become one of them, treating him on an equal footing with Professor Dumbledore.
What was inherently wrong and deplorable for the entire world was passable for the members of this Order, perhaps.
"Don't take the myths to their words always," Green Seat guided Darcie. "Abdul Alhazred is the Gatekeeper of the Earth, far more important than all of us combined. His existence is irreplaceable. Now, be kind enough to introduce me."
Darcie was processing Green Seat's words and anticipating the revelation about Madam Villanelle's true identity in the same splendid manner as the others.
It was then Abdul Alhazred's words thundered in her ears with no regard to her heart and thoughts.
"Her origins stem from the Biblical era," Yellow Seat's voice boomed. "She is the Grand Sorceress. She is… the Witch of Endor!"
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