ATtD Ch19
The sun shone warmly down on his skin as Draco walked silently
among the ancient trees of the Lost Forest of Gates. Light streamed all around, chasing each beam and brightly
bouncing off luminous bark until it was blinding and shimmering among the
dancing leaves. The magic was tangible
here, more so than any other forest.
Power lived here among the thick branches of the towering tress. Other things lived here as well, creatures
that would not be found elsewhere on Earth.
At the moment such a creature was intently stalking the slender boy
walking soundlessly, not even his light blue robes rustling. The young Malfoy heir was just as much at
home within the timeless forest as the trees around him were. For the first time since his exritus he felt
at peace, safe and secure in the light filled forest.
The Lost Forest of Gates, although sealed for centuries, was one of the few remaining natural portals to the Fae world. While the climate around the forest had grown colder in the treacherous mountains, the forest itself had not changed, its magic preserving its splendor for all eternity… or until the world fell apart. Two weeks after his sixteenth birthday, Draco had been called by unknown forces to walk among the forest’s trails and breath its scented air, letting his own magic and life force mingle with the forest like his ancestors had once done. It was a ritual for his family, one of the few he found he enjoyed. It hadn’t been that long ago when his mother had traveled the same path he did now, seeking counsel with the gods and refuge from worldly troubles. If only all his troubles were worldly.
Sighing, Draco let his palm rest upon the trunk of a large tree and sent his power through to the humming power beneath in greeting. The tree’s power sang in response causing him to smile. With a grace and agility no human possessed, Draco leapt upwards, his light sandals falling to the ground and allowing his bare feet and hands to easily find purchase in the miniscule groves in the bark. He raced up the trunk to rest on a large branch that’s diameter could be a tree in itself, inwardly marveling at how natural the impossible movement was.
Below, the small animal circled the large tree, occasionally jumping up, trying to scale the bark, only to skitter back down in a yowling furry ball. Draco took pity on his odd pursuer and with a Wingardium Leviosa the cat was floating up gently until finally placed on the branch beside him.
“Now what do we have here?” Draco asked the surprisingly calm creatures who didn’t seem fazed in the least to be over a hundred feet in the air. Certainly not a cat, Draco amended, although feline based. Its fur was black with a golden sheen, while its underbelly was covered in a sheet of blood-red scales. With talon like front feet and a delicate narrow snout decorated in scales, it was more dragon than anything. The small black leathery wings and a slithering serpent tail revealed that it was in fact of the chimaera family. By its size it could only be a cub, no more than twenty years old.
“My, a rare appearance indeed. You honour me with your presence, young Lord.” Respectfully, he bowed his head. The chimaera turned gold eyes on him and bowed its head in response then returned to grooming its front paws.
Contemplating, Draco eyed the odd feline. The last time a blood chimaera appeared on Earth an Heir to the Soul of Chaos lived. But the Tranza bloodline had dwindled over a thousand years ago and the blood chimaera had ceased appearing on the planet. Was this a sign that an Heir had been born after all? It would have been recent, blood chimaera were usually born only a few years before the Heir. At least that definitely ruled out Voldemort. Draco furrowed his brow. If the Heir was indeed born, he may have another important factor to consider in his upcoming decision concerning the Dark Lord. The fact that the young blood had sought Draco out and was now purring softly while nuzzling his hand was fair sign that the Heir existed and was in male form. The males always sought the dragons while the females tended to lean towards the serpents and lions.
Leaning back against the trunk, he absentmindedly slid his fingers through the dark fur of the sleek being beside him. Gods, how had life gotten so complicated? Spending a childhood scorned because he had been born to serve snakehead had been bad enough… not that they knew the whole story. They did know enough to rub it in his face, damn Gryffindors. Now, when he was actually considering fighting that repulsive fate, a destiny ordained an age ago just suddenly pops up. Well, it wasn’t completely out of the blue. Voldemort never would have bothered with him if he didn’t have the Black’s powerful blood running through his veins. Voldemort had been waiting for this day ever since Draco had been born.
It was horrifying. He knew he couldn’t allow Voldemort to win this one, not just at his own personal discomfort, but also at the ruin of the world. It was too big to ignore. He was forced to fight back, even against his sensible want for self-preservation… Plus, he had a new found conscience and urge to do good. Not that he wasn’t a good person per say… he was just a bit out of practice. The thought of turning into one of those goodie-goodie Gryffindors turned his stomach. And yet, that was the path that was looming ahead if he made it past the end of the week alive and un-bonded.
Having to answer to that manipulative coot Dumbledore and fight beside the Weasel and the Mudblood… the prospect was positively dreadful… Although, fighting with Potter on the same side for a change had a lure all its own. Perhaps with a little grooming they’d be suitable companions, the Weasley twins had shaped up nicely… but they hadn’t been quite as bad as two thirds of the Golden Trio. Did he even want to go through the trouble? Sighing dejectedly he realised his new sense of self would be more than happy to try. “Why does life have to suck so much?” He muttered.
The chimaera glanced his way and licked his hand kindly. Even if he did offer the light side his support, there was no guarantee they’d accept. Oh, Dumbledore would jump at the chance; he wasn’t a fool. The ancient wizard would be quick to use Draco’s knowledge of the Death Eaters affairs and newfound powers for his cause. This didn’t mean the rest would accept his presence. Snape could always vouch for him, but he had a feeling his godfather didn’t hold much sway with the rest. Only Dumbledore would be able to find a way around the Ministry laws that would let him stay in school now that everyone knew he was powerful enough to be a Candidate.
…It would give him a chance to duel with Potter though, training purposes only of course. It would be nice to clash again. With Potter banned from Quidditch and so busy with pissing off the Ministry last year, Draco really hadn’t had anyone to challenge him. He’d hold back, no point in killing the Golden Boy by accident. Hah, Potter would flip when he saw how tall he had gotten!
He looked up at the leaves glinting in the sunlight. All childish pride aside, he still stood by his original instinct that Potter would make a worthy friend and ally. He just had the right mix of power and personality that set them as equals. The boy would have to learn to control his temper and stop rushing foolishly into danger… although it was somewhat endearing. Grinning sideways he recalled their first year when they had first clashed and Potter had braved to stare down the lumbering Crabbe and Goyle. Foolish yes, but oddly endearing. Even with a rabid Weasley and know it all Grangers, Hogwarts wasn’t too bad of an idea.
The chimaera curled into his lap, letting out a soft purr. Then again, he may not get the chance at all. It wholly depended on who the Heir of the Soul of Chaos is and his allegiances. As Soul Vigil he would have to protect and advise the Heir until one of them died. Hopefully, they would be suitable… at least interesting. Draco groaned inwardly. With his luck he’d be stuck following bumbling Neville Longbottom and his toad around for the rest of his life.
*******
Draco returned to the forest two more times after that. Each morning found the chimaera waiting for him by the tree they had first met. Endearingly dubbing the young cub Blood, Draco dutifully followed the feline around the forest, a grand tour of sorts. It wasn’t until their third and final meeting that his growing suspicions were confirmed.
Twilight had fallen and he was just considering heading back to his family cottage at the edge of the forest, when Blood had nipped at his ankles and herded him towards a large lake to the west. A soft melody was wafting on the breeze, growing as the darkness descended. Upon breaking through the surrounding brush, Draco’s eyes were immediately drawn to the god sitting serenely on a rock, bare feet skimming the water’s surface.
Although Draco had never met the god before him, he knew instantly that is was the one and only Soul of Chaos. He was adorned in the Robes of Eternity, which patterns constantly changed as it reflected the events of the universe throughout time. Falling far past his feet to cover the surrounding ground and water like an exotic ivy, tendrils of pure darkness streamed around the being in the gentle wind. While his hair absorbed all light, his dark skin shone, reflecting the blue water and the multicolor of his robe. He towered, sitting he surpassed Draco’s height by feet and yet was unimaginably elegant. But all of it, the grace of the lithe figure or the power that swirled idly around him weren’t necessary for Draco to recognize the god. It was the strange, piercing verdant eyes, irises surrounded by gold and studded with the same, instead of the common black, that identified the Soul of Chaos in whatever form he chose.
Unsure of what to do, Draco waited for the god to acknowledge him. He realized fleetingly that the appearance of the Soul of Chaos instead of one of the lesser gods meant this had more involved than him being chosen as Soul Vigil for the Heir. Things just kept getting more complicated.
Not moving, the Soul of Chaos spoke, a harmony of many different voices speaking as one. “Come, young dragon. Time is a luxury I do not have much of.”
At Draco’s approach, the god turned effortlessly in his seat to regard him appraisingly. “Well, the Veela heritage has certainly made things… exotic.” The god mussed, taking in Draco’s almost blindingly white skin and shimmering silver hair that fell to his waist. “Unfortunately, that foolish curse has prevented a full transformation but clearly your power is capable.” Reaching forward he placed a surprisingly warm hand to Draco’s forehead. “At least something will be easy in all this.” He said with a wry smile.
A strange shimmer went through the wide-eyed boy as slight changes overtook his body. Draco could feel himself grow taller, his limbs and muscles strengthening as fine silver feathers dusted the back of his neck. His ears seemed to lengthen and his eyes’ focus sharpened almost impossibly. All throughout his body he could feel small changes that although strange, once complete left him feeling whole as if he had been only a fraction of himself before that moment.
Waiting for the pale fae to get his bearings, the Soul of Chaos soothed his hand over the sleek, silver-white hair until Draco’s silver eyes regained their focus. “Do you know who I am, young dragon?”
“You’re Furiae… Soul of Chaos.” Draco murmured, still dazed.
“Correct. And have you guessed why I called you here?” He asked gently.
Draco’s eyes shifted focus until, blinking owlishly, he focused on the gold-green eyes. “The Heir has been born…” Pulling his eyes away, he looked down at himself. “What… what’s happened to me?” A light chuckle brought his eyes up again. For some unexplained reason he found himself blushing under the mirth filled gaze.
“You’ve gained your natural form. Did you think a human could be a suitable guardian for the Heir of Chaos? You needed to complete your transformation and, since the Heir is incapable at this time, I intervened. Mind, you will still have to be sealed as tradition requires.” He continued sternly, as if reading Draco’s fears.
“But why?” Draco implored. “I’ll be taken the instant I leave this sacred ground. I won’t be able to protect myself, never mind the Heir… Isn’t their another way?”
“I’m afraid not, Draconis.” He replied, not unkindly. “If the Heir were to see you as is… Well, it is far too soon. Destiny has chosen you for Soul Vigil but the Heir won’t necessarily accept you. Your current form would be quite the assault on the Heir’s newly awakened senses and could easily lead to mistakes and misunderstandings. It is best to let the Heir choose freely without more primal feelings interfering. Do you understand?”
Draco sighed morosely. “Yes, sire.” The quirked eyebrow sent his way tore a small grin from him despite the feeling of hopelessness that was threatening to settle. “I realize the importance Lord. The thought of such a, er, relationship is rather unsettling, actually. My survival instincts seem not to care though.” He added grimly. “Will I loose all my power?”
“No, only the ones concerning your Soul Vigil title and your true Fae titles. You will be sealed in human form until the Heir chooses otherwise. You will notice an increase in power and senses compared to before your exritus; the changes from your Veela blood will remain as well. With your resourcefulness, I’m sure you can deal with your unwanted guards. I’ll make sure my descendant assists you if need be.” He nodded to where Blood was lying on the ground, purring.
“Umm…and if the Heir decides not to?” Draco asked, feeling increasingly uneasy.
Furiae smile reassuringly. “It is not a question of if but of when, young dragon.” He swept Draco into a paternal embrace, his long sleeves trailing silkily. “I will not lie to you. These are but the first of many trials you must face. The only comfort I can give is that you will not be alone.” Draco nodded morosely, letting the warmth of Furiae seep through him. “I know life has not been easy for you. I regret your circumstances have been so difficult but such are the trials of responsibility. I have watched you grow; you have become strong of heart. I’m proud of you, little dragon.”
Draco beamed at the compliment, blushing lightly. He couldn’t quite agree; his heart felt like it was quaking even more as each day passed, but it was still a nice thing to say. Who was he to disagree with the Soul of Chaos?
“As for the Heir, he was deprived of love since the beginning. If precautions hadn’t been taken he would not have lived to the age of two. But you are both strong and, although you’ve had to deal alone, you will now have each other for support. You must realize that the Heir will need your loyalty and heart more than any physical strength, especially at this stage. He will be confused and defensive and I’m afraid this world will not be able to understand him at first. Many will try to exploit him during his weakened state. He will need you.”
Something tugged at his heart from the words, something that went deeper than he could understand, and Draco spoke in response. “I can do that.” He vowed confidently. “I can support him.”
“I’m certain you can.” Furiae said with a proud smile. “Now, I have some information to give you in exchange for the sealing of your power; but first a warning. There are forces that long ago served you. They will seek you out, they already move now. They will not look kindly upon your weakened form and may try to destroy you and the Heir. You cannot allow this.”
Draco started in confusion. “I’ve heard nothing of the Soul Vigil having an army.”
Furiae smiled knowingly. “The Soul Vigil doesn’t. You do.”
“I don’t understand…” Furiae’s comforting hands clasping his shoulders quieted him. He locked his gaze with the gold-green and a wave of gravity hit him.
“Just know that you chose your destiny this time around, Draconis. I have done what you asked of me in Tyrain. You are Soul Vigil, your memory is subdued, your power masked and crippled. I will give you your final wish of knowledge, seal you, and the game will be set.”
“I- umm…” Even more confused than before, Draco just nodded. “Yes Lord… I will watch out for them.” He stared at his hands, debating if he should ask his next question. “Forgive me if I’m out of line. The Domin have been interfering…”
Furiae nodded, a long strand of hair blocking his eyes for a moment. “They have signed their fates. The Heir may save them if he wishes, but I would not blame him if he abandons them, as they have him. Do not concern yourself with them now.”
“Alright. Um, the Voldemort issue?”
“That is the Heir’s problem. You will assist. As it is, I have a different trial for you.”
Oh Shit. “Hopefully not slaying things? My power may be indefinitely sealed.” Draco reminded anxiously. He had to help destroy Voldemort. He was not pleased.
“It is merely a rescue mission.” Furiae said, petting Draco’s hair. “Difficult, but not necessarily life threatening. Hmmm, it will deal closely with the Domin and the Outer Realms. You will understand when the time comes.”
Draco sighed. “I do hate it when I’m told that.”
Furiae laughed, the air shimmering with power. “You always did. Now… I think it’s time to get things on the move.”
ATtD Chapter Index Links
The Lost Forest of Gates, although sealed for centuries, was one of the few remaining natural portals to the Fae world. While the climate around the forest had grown colder in the treacherous mountains, the forest itself had not changed, its magic preserving its splendor for all eternity… or until the world fell apart. Two weeks after his sixteenth birthday, Draco had been called by unknown forces to walk among the forest’s trails and breath its scented air, letting his own magic and life force mingle with the forest like his ancestors had once done. It was a ritual for his family, one of the few he found he enjoyed. It hadn’t been that long ago when his mother had traveled the same path he did now, seeking counsel with the gods and refuge from worldly troubles. If only all his troubles were worldly.
Sighing, Draco let his palm rest upon the trunk of a large tree and sent his power through to the humming power beneath in greeting. The tree’s power sang in response causing him to smile. With a grace and agility no human possessed, Draco leapt upwards, his light sandals falling to the ground and allowing his bare feet and hands to easily find purchase in the miniscule groves in the bark. He raced up the trunk to rest on a large branch that’s diameter could be a tree in itself, inwardly marveling at how natural the impossible movement was.
Below, the small animal circled the large tree, occasionally jumping up, trying to scale the bark, only to skitter back down in a yowling furry ball. Draco took pity on his odd pursuer and with a Wingardium Leviosa the cat was floating up gently until finally placed on the branch beside him.
“Now what do we have here?” Draco asked the surprisingly calm creatures who didn’t seem fazed in the least to be over a hundred feet in the air. Certainly not a cat, Draco amended, although feline based. Its fur was black with a golden sheen, while its underbelly was covered in a sheet of blood-red scales. With talon like front feet and a delicate narrow snout decorated in scales, it was more dragon than anything. The small black leathery wings and a slithering serpent tail revealed that it was in fact of the chimaera family. By its size it could only be a cub, no more than twenty years old.
“My, a rare appearance indeed. You honour me with your presence, young Lord.” Respectfully, he bowed his head. The chimaera turned gold eyes on him and bowed its head in response then returned to grooming its front paws.
Contemplating, Draco eyed the odd feline. The last time a blood chimaera appeared on Earth an Heir to the Soul of Chaos lived. But the Tranza bloodline had dwindled over a thousand years ago and the blood chimaera had ceased appearing on the planet. Was this a sign that an Heir had been born after all? It would have been recent, blood chimaera were usually born only a few years before the Heir. At least that definitely ruled out Voldemort. Draco furrowed his brow. If the Heir was indeed born, he may have another important factor to consider in his upcoming decision concerning the Dark Lord. The fact that the young blood had sought Draco out and was now purring softly while nuzzling his hand was fair sign that the Heir existed and was in male form. The males always sought the dragons while the females tended to lean towards the serpents and lions.
Leaning back against the trunk, he absentmindedly slid his fingers through the dark fur of the sleek being beside him. Gods, how had life gotten so complicated? Spending a childhood scorned because he had been born to serve snakehead had been bad enough… not that they knew the whole story. They did know enough to rub it in his face, damn Gryffindors. Now, when he was actually considering fighting that repulsive fate, a destiny ordained an age ago just suddenly pops up. Well, it wasn’t completely out of the blue. Voldemort never would have bothered with him if he didn’t have the Black’s powerful blood running through his veins. Voldemort had been waiting for this day ever since Draco had been born.
It was horrifying. He knew he couldn’t allow Voldemort to win this one, not just at his own personal discomfort, but also at the ruin of the world. It was too big to ignore. He was forced to fight back, even against his sensible want for self-preservation… Plus, he had a new found conscience and urge to do good. Not that he wasn’t a good person per say… he was just a bit out of practice. The thought of turning into one of those goodie-goodie Gryffindors turned his stomach. And yet, that was the path that was looming ahead if he made it past the end of the week alive and un-bonded.
Having to answer to that manipulative coot Dumbledore and fight beside the Weasel and the Mudblood… the prospect was positively dreadful… Although, fighting with Potter on the same side for a change had a lure all its own. Perhaps with a little grooming they’d be suitable companions, the Weasley twins had shaped up nicely… but they hadn’t been quite as bad as two thirds of the Golden Trio. Did he even want to go through the trouble? Sighing dejectedly he realised his new sense of self would be more than happy to try. “Why does life have to suck so much?” He muttered.
The chimaera glanced his way and licked his hand kindly. Even if he did offer the light side his support, there was no guarantee they’d accept. Oh, Dumbledore would jump at the chance; he wasn’t a fool. The ancient wizard would be quick to use Draco’s knowledge of the Death Eaters affairs and newfound powers for his cause. This didn’t mean the rest would accept his presence. Snape could always vouch for him, but he had a feeling his godfather didn’t hold much sway with the rest. Only Dumbledore would be able to find a way around the Ministry laws that would let him stay in school now that everyone knew he was powerful enough to be a Candidate.
…It would give him a chance to duel with Potter though, training purposes only of course. It would be nice to clash again. With Potter banned from Quidditch and so busy with pissing off the Ministry last year, Draco really hadn’t had anyone to challenge him. He’d hold back, no point in killing the Golden Boy by accident. Hah, Potter would flip when he saw how tall he had gotten!
He looked up at the leaves glinting in the sunlight. All childish pride aside, he still stood by his original instinct that Potter would make a worthy friend and ally. He just had the right mix of power and personality that set them as equals. The boy would have to learn to control his temper and stop rushing foolishly into danger… although it was somewhat endearing. Grinning sideways he recalled their first year when they had first clashed and Potter had braved to stare down the lumbering Crabbe and Goyle. Foolish yes, but oddly endearing. Even with a rabid Weasley and know it all Grangers, Hogwarts wasn’t too bad of an idea.
The chimaera curled into his lap, letting out a soft purr. Then again, he may not get the chance at all. It wholly depended on who the Heir of the Soul of Chaos is and his allegiances. As Soul Vigil he would have to protect and advise the Heir until one of them died. Hopefully, they would be suitable… at least interesting. Draco groaned inwardly. With his luck he’d be stuck following bumbling Neville Longbottom and his toad around for the rest of his life.
*******
Draco returned to the forest two more times after that. Each morning found the chimaera waiting for him by the tree they had first met. Endearingly dubbing the young cub Blood, Draco dutifully followed the feline around the forest, a grand tour of sorts. It wasn’t until their third and final meeting that his growing suspicions were confirmed.
Twilight had fallen and he was just considering heading back to his family cottage at the edge of the forest, when Blood had nipped at his ankles and herded him towards a large lake to the west. A soft melody was wafting on the breeze, growing as the darkness descended. Upon breaking through the surrounding brush, Draco’s eyes were immediately drawn to the god sitting serenely on a rock, bare feet skimming the water’s surface.
Although Draco had never met the god before him, he knew instantly that is was the one and only Soul of Chaos. He was adorned in the Robes of Eternity, which patterns constantly changed as it reflected the events of the universe throughout time. Falling far past his feet to cover the surrounding ground and water like an exotic ivy, tendrils of pure darkness streamed around the being in the gentle wind. While his hair absorbed all light, his dark skin shone, reflecting the blue water and the multicolor of his robe. He towered, sitting he surpassed Draco’s height by feet and yet was unimaginably elegant. But all of it, the grace of the lithe figure or the power that swirled idly around him weren’t necessary for Draco to recognize the god. It was the strange, piercing verdant eyes, irises surrounded by gold and studded with the same, instead of the common black, that identified the Soul of Chaos in whatever form he chose.
Unsure of what to do, Draco waited for the god to acknowledge him. He realized fleetingly that the appearance of the Soul of Chaos instead of one of the lesser gods meant this had more involved than him being chosen as Soul Vigil for the Heir. Things just kept getting more complicated.
Not moving, the Soul of Chaos spoke, a harmony of many different voices speaking as one. “Come, young dragon. Time is a luxury I do not have much of.”
At Draco’s approach, the god turned effortlessly in his seat to regard him appraisingly. “Well, the Veela heritage has certainly made things… exotic.” The god mussed, taking in Draco’s almost blindingly white skin and shimmering silver hair that fell to his waist. “Unfortunately, that foolish curse has prevented a full transformation but clearly your power is capable.” Reaching forward he placed a surprisingly warm hand to Draco’s forehead. “At least something will be easy in all this.” He said with a wry smile.
A strange shimmer went through the wide-eyed boy as slight changes overtook his body. Draco could feel himself grow taller, his limbs and muscles strengthening as fine silver feathers dusted the back of his neck. His ears seemed to lengthen and his eyes’ focus sharpened almost impossibly. All throughout his body he could feel small changes that although strange, once complete left him feeling whole as if he had been only a fraction of himself before that moment.
Waiting for the pale fae to get his bearings, the Soul of Chaos soothed his hand over the sleek, silver-white hair until Draco’s silver eyes regained their focus. “Do you know who I am, young dragon?”
“You’re Furiae… Soul of Chaos.” Draco murmured, still dazed.
“Correct. And have you guessed why I called you here?” He asked gently.
Draco’s eyes shifted focus until, blinking owlishly, he focused on the gold-green eyes. “The Heir has been born…” Pulling his eyes away, he looked down at himself. “What… what’s happened to me?” A light chuckle brought his eyes up again. For some unexplained reason he found himself blushing under the mirth filled gaze.
“You’ve gained your natural form. Did you think a human could be a suitable guardian for the Heir of Chaos? You needed to complete your transformation and, since the Heir is incapable at this time, I intervened. Mind, you will still have to be sealed as tradition requires.” He continued sternly, as if reading Draco’s fears.
“But why?” Draco implored. “I’ll be taken the instant I leave this sacred ground. I won’t be able to protect myself, never mind the Heir… Isn’t their another way?”
“I’m afraid not, Draconis.” He replied, not unkindly. “If the Heir were to see you as is… Well, it is far too soon. Destiny has chosen you for Soul Vigil but the Heir won’t necessarily accept you. Your current form would be quite the assault on the Heir’s newly awakened senses and could easily lead to mistakes and misunderstandings. It is best to let the Heir choose freely without more primal feelings interfering. Do you understand?”
Draco sighed morosely. “Yes, sire.” The quirked eyebrow sent his way tore a small grin from him despite the feeling of hopelessness that was threatening to settle. “I realize the importance Lord. The thought of such a, er, relationship is rather unsettling, actually. My survival instincts seem not to care though.” He added grimly. “Will I loose all my power?”
“No, only the ones concerning your Soul Vigil title and your true Fae titles. You will be sealed in human form until the Heir chooses otherwise. You will notice an increase in power and senses compared to before your exritus; the changes from your Veela blood will remain as well. With your resourcefulness, I’m sure you can deal with your unwanted guards. I’ll make sure my descendant assists you if need be.” He nodded to where Blood was lying on the ground, purring.
“Umm…and if the Heir decides not to?” Draco asked, feeling increasingly uneasy.
Furiae smile reassuringly. “It is not a question of if but of when, young dragon.” He swept Draco into a paternal embrace, his long sleeves trailing silkily. “I will not lie to you. These are but the first of many trials you must face. The only comfort I can give is that you will not be alone.” Draco nodded morosely, letting the warmth of Furiae seep through him. “I know life has not been easy for you. I regret your circumstances have been so difficult but such are the trials of responsibility. I have watched you grow; you have become strong of heart. I’m proud of you, little dragon.”
Draco beamed at the compliment, blushing lightly. He couldn’t quite agree; his heart felt like it was quaking even more as each day passed, but it was still a nice thing to say. Who was he to disagree with the Soul of Chaos?
“As for the Heir, he was deprived of love since the beginning. If precautions hadn’t been taken he would not have lived to the age of two. But you are both strong and, although you’ve had to deal alone, you will now have each other for support. You must realize that the Heir will need your loyalty and heart more than any physical strength, especially at this stage. He will be confused and defensive and I’m afraid this world will not be able to understand him at first. Many will try to exploit him during his weakened state. He will need you.”
Something tugged at his heart from the words, something that went deeper than he could understand, and Draco spoke in response. “I can do that.” He vowed confidently. “I can support him.”
“I’m certain you can.” Furiae said with a proud smile. “Now, I have some information to give you in exchange for the sealing of your power; but first a warning. There are forces that long ago served you. They will seek you out, they already move now. They will not look kindly upon your weakened form and may try to destroy you and the Heir. You cannot allow this.”
Draco started in confusion. “I’ve heard nothing of the Soul Vigil having an army.”
Furiae smiled knowingly. “The Soul Vigil doesn’t. You do.”
“I don’t understand…” Furiae’s comforting hands clasping his shoulders quieted him. He locked his gaze with the gold-green and a wave of gravity hit him.
“Just know that you chose your destiny this time around, Draconis. I have done what you asked of me in Tyrain. You are Soul Vigil, your memory is subdued, your power masked and crippled. I will give you your final wish of knowledge, seal you, and the game will be set.”
“I- umm…” Even more confused than before, Draco just nodded. “Yes Lord… I will watch out for them.” He stared at his hands, debating if he should ask his next question. “Forgive me if I’m out of line. The Domin have been interfering…”
Furiae nodded, a long strand of hair blocking his eyes for a moment. “They have signed their fates. The Heir may save them if he wishes, but I would not blame him if he abandons them, as they have him. Do not concern yourself with them now.”
“Alright. Um, the Voldemort issue?”
“That is the Heir’s problem. You will assist. As it is, I have a different trial for you.”
Oh Shit. “Hopefully not slaying things? My power may be indefinitely sealed.” Draco reminded anxiously. He had to help destroy Voldemort. He was not pleased.
“It is merely a rescue mission.” Furiae said, petting Draco’s hair. “Difficult, but not necessarily life threatening. Hmmm, it will deal closely with the Domin and the Outer Realms. You will understand when the time comes.”
Draco sighed. “I do hate it when I’m told that.”
Furiae laughed, the air shimmering with power. “You always did. Now… I think it’s time to get things on the move.”
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