Curse Uncurse - ONC 2020 [Completed]

Chapter 4: The enemy takes different forms

Zima sits on leather upholstery, elbows on her knees, hand in hand twisting. There's a restless look in her eyes as she gazes at the small table in front of her, but she slowly raises her head, and it shifts to an ounce of relief. Leaning to the backrest, her hands fall to her lap.

"It took you two quite long to arrive," she comments, lightly, yet Plamen hears the steely tone of unease under the carefree attitude she tries to sell.

"Flamey here wouldn't wake up," Vid says, pointing at Plamen, and takes a seat on her right. The recliner is a big thing, made for at least three people to sit without their elbows knocking against.

The scowl Plamen shoots at Vid doesn't deter the other Heir in smiling at his own joke. Zima laughs and it's a soft, ringing sound breaking the accumulated tension.

An unbidden thought crosses Plamen's mind, Is this how friendship looks like?

He has never had friends. Acquaintances, yes. Caretakers, yes. Mentor, yes. Friends, no. He is the odd man out, has been for as long as he can remember.

The Zmajeva Zvijezda townsfolk don't take lightly to those who break their carefully preserved tradition. It is a sure fact that the young dragonlings cannot access the magic locked inside them until they reach a certain age - around 9 -11 years old when the body grows sturdy enough for the first breath of power escaping its hold.

Yet, there was Plamen, only five at the time, his fire burning like a shining star among smothered candles. It made adults alarmed, fearful of what that meant for the whole race to the point they tried to accuse a toddler of treason, of being Nužda's spy, Izdajnik.

Ah, quite fond memories, he thinks with exasperated sarcasm. Those nonphysical wounds may have closed a long time ago, but he still bears the scars. And those scars, he's always thought, made him stronger. He isn't sure why he feels warmer after seeing Vid and Zima here with him and it boggles his mind because why? What changed?

Ignoring the confusing questions piling up, Plamen takes stock of their situation: Three Champions; everyone knew there would be three except for the Champions themselves...but what's next?

He doesn't know. They don't know, all three of them don't know.

The sound of hinges creaking brings him out of his internal discussion. He's always hated getting worked up and not being able to come up with answers to his own questions.

Yana enters the room with a sure step and a smile on her face. She's wearing her brightest armor. A silver chest plate gleams in the light as she turns to close the door, ending just under her stomach where chainmail made of minuscule, bronze-colored rings takes over. One would think of it weird - the chest consists of ribs whereas the stomach area isn't protected - however, the chainmail is one of the sturdiest types out there, and he knows for a fact that Yana only wears a breastplate because it looks cool or something, underneath the mail sits solid, offering protection even when cold metal of the plate fails.

She is one of the Armsguard, high enough in the chain of command that she's mostly only called in when they have a problem they can't easily solve.

"Yana!"

He doesn't mean to do it, but his teacher's name slips over his lips unconsciously, breathily, and he realizes he feels safer, more at peace now that Yana's here. She's always made him feel safe.

She smiles at him, this time it's soft and tender. "Hey, kiddo. I've never congratulated you in person. Good work out there! You really did it."

He feels his cheeks warming up, but he ignores it. "What are you doing here?" he asks.