The Dragon Prince - Book 1: Cold War

Ascent

Time is a funny thing when you have no sense of reference. It's like living in the bilge of a ship being tossed at sea; without a horizon to get your bearings, one loses equilibrium and the body responds with nausea. When one loses its equilibrium on time, the body responds by being at first hyper aware of every passing moment then splipping into a kind of lackadaisical malaise. Months of being locked away in near darkness gave Viren fine control of his sense of time. For him it was yet another thing he could manipulate, a type of magic for him alone. He could while away the days simply closing his eyes or he could hone in on a snapshot of time like a series of paintings.

But of all days, the universe decided today would be the day to bring about a thunderstorm, removing Viren's ability to fast-forward through this day. Each thunderclap another pang of torment, as if the elements themselves decided to pile on to his misery. Today was the day he would be executed.

Viren heard the jailor's keys jingle as the man struggled - like he did everyday - to find the right key to turn the lock. The old jailor opened the metal cell door letting the hinges moan. Every action this tired jailor made grated on Viren's nerves, and part of him was relieved today would be the last time he'd have to put up with this old man's annoyances. The jailor held out a wooden tray, the smell of its contents wafting to Viren's nose. It was the first time since Viren could remember smelling real food cooked above room temperature.

    "Your last meal," said the jailor his voice dripping with derision, "medium rare steak, fried mushrooms, and raw brussels sprouts, as requested."

The jailor dropped the tray at Viren's feet, and Viren thought for a minute that the old man would leave him chained there, letting him smell the food and watch it grow cold. Instead the jailor roughly uncuffed his wrists.

    "You got 10 minutes to enjoy that meal then we take you outside."

The jailor slammed the door behind him and mumbling something incoherent to the guards standing just outside the door. Viren waited until he heard the metallic clinking of his boots fade away to silence before he began to talk.

    "You..." he said to the voice in his head, "you made me sacrifice everything for this?!"

As his rage boiled, he wanted to pick up the tray and bash it against the wall. How could he be so stupid to trust the cloying voice that only spoke in half truths? He wanted answers.

    "Why did you make me request this disgusting meal? I can't stand mushrooms and I hate brussels sprouts!"

    "We need the organic matter to apply the spell, and the mushrooms provide a tiny link to the underworld," answered the buttery soft voice.

    "And the steak?"

    "I don't know. I thought you might be hungry."

Viren shrugged, he grasped the steak with dirty fingers and after a few bites he discovered the voice was right, he was famished. He removed the tiny shard of the dragon's horn from his pocket and laid it onto the pile of mushrooms lying in the middle of a ceramic plate. He held the brussels sprouts in his right hand while Aaravos described the rune in his mind.

    "Make the Invictus Maledictum rune but instead of an upper stroke, you will be adding a half-moon flourish to the bottom. Then cite these words..."

Viren performed the steps as Aaravos instructed. The rune was complex and emitted a nauseating yellow line in the air above the shard. It smelled of rotting flesh and made Viren gag from its putrefaction. He pulped the brussels sprouts in his fist and poured the juices over the shard watching as it absorbed the fluid. The shard began to sprout tiny green dendrites from its keratinous, orange material. As the dendrites grew, everything they touched instantly began to rot like time rushing by. The rotting effluent was absorbed into the shard. The ceramic plate, the wooden tray, mushrooms all rotting to liquid then consumed by the shard as it grew ever-larger in size, twisting into a cone lined with snotty green streaks. Eventually, the shard ceased its expanse and throbbed on the floor like a diseased but still living organ. Viren picked it up and shuddered at the raw power coursing through it. The rotting yellow streaks out of the horn and curled inside his arm, into his shoulder and buried deep inside his organs. Viren grinned as an indigo shade of blue replaced his pale complexion.