novelraw Chapter 81 - 79: Divine Vision: Dark Family Home Movies
Chapter 81 - 79: Divine Vision: Dark Family Home Movies
So many eyes on me. I straighten up, looking proud. A whiff of something catches my attention.
Perfume? I detect it close by. Strong perfume.
It’s from Lightning! When did she start wearing perfume? Did she take a bath in it?
[Blaze. You can do this.]
Awww. Such validation from her!
Kaline reports, "Blaze can use his powers of Divine Vision!" Her eyes burn with a fire that I associate with kids, or those who are children at heart.
Raising eyebrows, Lamant asks, "Are you certain?"
He doesn’t dismiss the idea out of hand, not after we have vanquished the jaguar-scorpion creep. He’s just asking Kaline if this is truly the best option. It’s a big ask, even though I volunteered, and Kaline trusted me enough to put it out there.
Niall shakes his head, hair wafting everywhere. "You ask this after he has shown abilities beyond his level and age?"
Lamant holds up his hands. "I am not doubting him in the least. However, he hasn’t been able to direct his visions. More advanced beasts can channel visions on command."
Kaline crosses her arms. "And just how will he become more advanced, Father?"
Naturally, Vedette and Hans back Kaline. "FATHER," Vedette says, packing an entire lifetimes of meaning into that one word.
Not to be outdone, Hans adds, "Lightning puts strong faith in Blaze’s ability."
"Does she now?" Lamant exchanges a charged glance with Minette.
Gussie, content to ride on Lamant’s shoulder without offering her omnipresent opinions on everything, speaks up. She must be feeling better. "Lightning loves Blaze! She does! So, what she says is true!"
Oh, GUSSIE. You know I can’t yell at you when you still cling to Lamant and he protects you, an anchor steadying a ship. And a ship that has sailed through turbulent waters at that.
Resigned, Lamant says, "One condition."
All eyes and ears fixate on him.
"Keep him far away from THAT." Lamant sweeps his arm out to indicate the menacing mandala in the center. "The last thing we need is for him to turn."
No problem! I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.
I take up a position near the skull of what looks like some kind of deer or antelope, adjacent to a dragon skeleton as well. Maybe the remains of my fellow critters might harbor memories. Many people believe that inanimate objects store memories of the departed. I never put much stock in those stories, but I’m a believer now.
"He can do it," Minette says, her voice ringing out.
Can I? I hope so. I might hold the key to this hidden family history that someone wanted to keep secret from generations of Riddlehoevens. System? What do I do?
[They’re not gonna like it...]
The dire words and the sing-song voice completely throw me off. What a complete contrast. Maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe the System wants to warn me against this enterprise. Too late. It doesn’t matter.
System, they already don’t like being in the dark, especially if this room could come back to bite them in future.
[Oh, it could. Literally. They should leave well enough alone. But they won’t, so I’ll save my breath. You want a Divine Vision? Remember, you asked for this.]
Bring it on, System.
FLASH.
* * * * *
In my vision, I see the scene unfold and get immediate information on the players. This is, after all, one of the Easter eggs I have read about in the Tanglewood literature and online. I can see the beast stats and also their personality traits.
A mousy brown-haired man who could scarcely be called a Riddlehoeven stands in the chamber, flinching at every shadow. "Oh dear," he says to a young dragon beside him. "You would think that with an entire grand villa, I would not need a room like this. But I do. WE do. The rest of the family does not approve of my experiments. Or my need for solitude."
[Name: Lothair Riddlehoeven, Novice Tamer]
[Name: [Fyrefernes]
[Class: [Journeyman]
[Race: [Mountain Dragon
[HP: 6/6 [MP: 0/0 [Stamina 100/100
[Strength: 34
[Defense: 30
[Magic: 28
[Resistance: 19
[Speed: 28
[Charisma: 46
[Luck: 35
[Skills: [Bite (Attack Skill] [Fly (Attack Skill)] [Fire Breathing (Attack Skill)] [EscapePower(Skill)][Hunt (Skilll) [Camouflage (Skilll) [Telepathy(Skill)]
______________
The dragon’s thoughts broadcast clearly throughout the chamber. [I like solitude. Of course, no one thinks that I need an entire treasure room.]
The milquetoast, sallow, big-eyed man promenades around the chamber, painting runes on the walls. [They like you, Fyrefernes, but an entire treasure vault for you is, alas, out of the question.]
[HMPH.] Fyrefernes puffs acrid smoke. [Then, Young Master, could some treasure, perchance, be housed here?]
Fyrefernes, a brilliant coral color with golden claws and crest, has more of a personality than his Young Master. Lothair Riddlehoeven looks everywhere for his family’s perceived disapproval, even as he boldly emblazons magical runes on every square inch of the dark chamber. From the moment he creates the symbols, the runes glimmer and shine, casting an unearthly light on Lothair’s sallow face. A poet of the realm once wrote about men with "lean and hungry" looks being dangerous. Although Lothair hasn’t reached the age of shaving or his voice deepening, he definitely has a power-hungry countenance.
[The real treasure is what we will produce here, friend Fyrefernes,] he replies.
Puffing disgruntled smoke clouds, the dragon says, [A fine reward for staying awake for nights on end while you languished in bed with a deathly fever and had the fainting sickness to boot!]
[HONESTLY, who is the master here?] Lothair ignores his beast’s well-justified gripes. [And dragons don’t get fainting sickness or fevers very often. Other than lack of sleep, you didn’t suffer greatly from playing nursemaid.]
Columns of smoke rise from Fyrefernes’ mouth. [What are these runes you are creating?]
[AH! Excellent question.] Lothair crafts the runes carefully. [They will help the wonderful spell that I am crafting. Then, we need a focal point in the center. A magic circle for YOU, my fine, scaly friend. You and any of the other beasts of this house.]
Fyrefernes pouts, if a dragon can pout. [But it’s for me, isn’t it?]
[Yes, yes.] Lothair seems dismissive. [It is for you. So, use your Shooting Stars and your fire, and scorch a circle on the floor.]
[Scorch?] Fyrefernes puffs out his chest. [I am an ARTIST. I do not just "scorch" anything. Does an artist just splash paint on canvas?]
Lothair huffs. [Make the design or I will tear scales from your body!]
Fyrefernes takes this personally. [Ha, as if you could!]
[Oh, I could, and I will, if you do not do this!] Lothair’s empty braggadocio and bluster fills the room. [Make. The, Design.]
Defiantly, Fyrefernes etches a circle in the center of the secret chamber and carves, painstakingly and with fire jets and flaming stars, a mandala design in the center. Insidious and unbidden, dark, unearthly glowing smoke rises from the mandala design. The dark magic hangs over the center of the room.
[What is that?] Lothair’s eyes widen.
[It’s the spell. Don’t you know anything, human?]
Fyrefernes sounds snippy. Very snippy. Highly upset with Lothair, his human tamer. But Lothair has treated Fyrefernes as just another beast that he can order around. An entitled, supercilious, and complacent youth.
Lothair doesn’t sense the curse coming. How could he? Despite the bond, he does not know what it means to be a tamer, or to care for a beast. To him, Fyrefernes is just a shiny coral dragon. A glorified toy that he can order about. His teasing might even be said to be affectionate, but then, he would have had to put thought into good-natured ribbing rather than callous jibes.
Fyrefernes can smell the neglect. That’s the worst part. Fyrefernes could tolerate and understand hatred or even dislike. However, indifference enrages him. And all he, the hothead, can think of is this: He must be respected.
All Fyrefernes can think of is simply this:
Vengeance. Making this human pay.
He will make Lothair Riddlehoeven, this gangly youth whose feet ever a room long before he does, who blushes when talking to a Lammermoor elf maiden, rue the day that Lothair decided to disrespect his beast. Lothair will regret the first kiss his parents ever shared. Fyrefermes doesn’t understand human kissing or see the need for it. However, he’s fairly certain that human kissing created Lothair, his tormentor and tamer rolled into one.
And Lothair’s parents never seem to see the drooping heads and resentful eyes wherever their pride and joy goes. Lothair’s parents are too busy boasting about their only son’s prowess. Really, the bond is just another trophy to him, and it shows.
The knowledge burns Fyrefernes’ gut with a white-hot intensity that kills his conscience. Nothing to do but get revenge!
He lays a curse upon the mandala in the center. This sacred symbol will work just as designed by this sniveling, strutting, weak-mouthed human. It will work so well that it will curse the House of Riddlehoeven for thousands of years, or until dragons cease to fly, whichever comes first!
Fyrefernes waddles toward his destiny and steps into the circle...