Curselock

Chapter 2: Dream Ceremony

Leland’s face crooked into a deep smile, one that pulled his cheeks to their highest arc. Movement quickly pulled his gaze, and he found an ebony crow staring at him with huge amethyst eyes.

It tilted its head, inspecting the human while silently conveying its unhappiness.

The crow, as small as it was, held the presence of a god. It looked at Leland with the ego of the heavens, the arrogance of a Lord. It cawed once, booming its power across the darkened landscape from one horizon to the other. The spindly trees vibrated from the sudden earthquake, uprooting before being consumed by their dirt housings.

The forest fell apart, transforming into a barren wasteland of undeath and ruin. Groans echoed from the marshy floor as sickly green hands sprouted into life. At first the hands waved around like a crowd cheering for a performance but they eventually grew enough to pull their bodies from the soil.

Souls, hundreds, one for each tree, groaned and moaned, each transfixed on Leland. They tracked him, not that he was moving but rather because they were forced to. Their bodies didn’t sit idle, they twisted and contorted, like their ghostly muscles were cramping.

“Hmph.”

Leland turned back to the crow. It still sat on an isolated tree, but this tree had grown. Bone and antler spiraled around the open air, creating branches and life. Sparkling puffs of magic bloomed along the branches, each whispering their powerwords like budding flowers.

Reds, greens, deep blues, even a few marbled black and white spells, were within the tree. It was Leland’s tree, he knew, but not for another day… or maybe not. Was it this it? He couldn’t remember… had he gone to bed yet? He smiled again.

“The Legacy of the Lord of Curses,” the crow spoke in a harsh voice, like it was screaming and whispering at the same time. “You accept, don’t you?”

Ahh, there it was. Leland had fallen asleep, it was finally his birthday. Nineteen. He couldn’t believe it, he was finally of age to become someone new – something worthwhile. It was finally time to accept his Legacy, years he had waited for this moment. The Legacy of the--

Wait.

“Lord of Curses?” Leland asked, his mind reeling back into reality, or rather, to the Dream Ceremony. “Seriously?”

The crow tilted its head before cawing once. The landscape shifted back to the spiny forest, souls of the Damned disappearing back into the ground. Only the massive bone tree remained, along with the spells of the Curse Lord.

“What do you mean, ‘seriously?’” the crow asked, its voice fading from harsh to disbelief.

Leland frowned. “Well, I mean. Mom and Dad were legacies of the Magic Lord… I figured I would be the same… I had it all planned out… First I’d learn water magic, maybe a simple healing spell, then progress into lightning. The combination would be rather effect—”

“Stop,” the crow ordered. It sighed, bringing forth a large wind. The trees shook, even Leland stumbled a bit.

“Did I do something—”

“No, no.” The crow hopped to a different branch, turning its back away from the human. “It’s just the natural reaction every one of my Legacy has. It’s me, right?”

Before Leland could respond the crow continued. “‘Try to intimidate potential Legacies.’ I was urged to do. ‘Make them fear my power, so that they feel the touch of greed upon their minds.” The crow turned to the open air, cawing a muted curse before a drop of liquid fell from its amethyst eye.

Leland’s face scrunched. “A-are you crying?”

“No!” The force of the word stripped the land of all things, besides the tree with the spells on its branches, of course.

Leland suddenly found the situation uncomfortable. He struggled to stand still, his legs pushing him to console the saddened Lord. He walked over to the tree, putting his hand on the boney trunk.

“You don’t have to cry,” he said. “There has to be someone who will accept your Legacy, right?”

For a moment the crow glanced at him before turning back away. “No. They are all snatched up by the Magic Lord before I have a chance. It's rare I get the first petition for the magically inclined. Even rarer that they accept my offer.”

Leland paused. “W-why did you get first petition over me then?”

The crow huffed. “A relative on your mother’s side was a Legacy of mine some two thousand years ago. When the Gift of Magic appears in your bloodline, or any of my other patrons, I have rite of the first.”

“So, my mother declined your offer then? She’s a powerful mage, she must have the Gift of Magic or whatever. Why wouldn’t she tell me about this?”

Now the crow looked back at him, its eyes glinting in shame. “No, she didn’t have the Gift. It goes beyond simply being able to use magic like any common mage. Curses take a sophisticated hand, much more than casting fireballs.”

That caught Leland’s attention. “Does it now? Can you explain?”

The crow ruffled a wing. “The potency differs from person to person, but they always have one thing in common. They all become excellent, best in class, in fact, mages.”

“Just mages though?”

“Yes, yes. Don’t remind me. There hasn’t been a Warlock in some time. Two thousand years to be precise. Your grandmother from forty generations ago, in fact.”

The title of Warlock caught Leland’s eye. He could see it now, standing before his mother and father as a Warlock. Haha, that’d be the day he thought. He would finally demand the respect he thought he deserved. No longer would he be forced to do remedial tasks like runic blending. Ugh he hated runic blending.

“What, uh, how would curses differ from normal spells? I am unfamiliar.”

The crow was silent for a long moment. It only stared at him, almost in disbelief. “Curses are generally considered evil or vile, but that is simply not true. A fireball can deal as much damage as ripping the soul from an enemy’s body. In fact, pulling souls is much more humane than burning someone alive, in my opinion.”

Leland squinted. “Uh huh.”

“Then there are cantrips. Always fun, those. Someone bothers you, curse them to a sleepless night or copy the voice of their mother and yell at them. Either way, psychological warfare is a hell of a way to battle.”

Leland squinted more.

“Then there are rituals. A bit more involved but nothing someone with the Gift of Magic can’t handle. But their niche is few and far between, I’m afraid. Most of your curses will simply harm targets, although they are more useful than just zapping a gnoll with lightning. Same outcome, but you’ll be safer. Actually, you could even forge a contract with the Lord of Magic and get his blessing.”

“Right…” Leland said. “I’m not completely sold, however.”

Like a switch had been flipped, the crow’s mirth fell, mimicking the drop of liquid falling from its eye. “That’s what they all say. My sisters say it's my personality. I’m just too passionate, you know?”

And Leland did know. He was very passionate about magic, even the tedious part his parents made him study on repeat. Still, he could see a future where he was a Warlock. It was a pipedream, he knew. Becoming a magus was regarded as a life accomplishment, anything past that was a miracle.

Still, after today, his life expectancy would significantly elongate. If he chose to become a farmer after this, disregarding a life of magic, he would estimate he’d live another one hundred and fifty years at least. But if he did choose the path of the Warlock, then maybe he’d live for thousands.

Thousands of years? Leland asked himself. Yeah that should be plenty of time.

He turned back to the crow. An isolated miniature rain cloud had sprouted above its head, releasing its downpour solely on the bird. The sight made him crack a smile.

“I’ve decided,” Leland announced.

The crow perked up a bit. “Do you accept my Legacy as the Lord of Curses?”

“Yes,” he answered.

There was no cheering, there was no hurrah. No falling confetti or blazing trumpets. Only a smirking crow, one with a devilish look - like the face of an actor after the performance of a lifetime. It jumped from its branch, fluttering before Leland. It morphed and mutated, snapping bones and discarding feathers. Dark cloth formed and took, unveiling an elderly human woman with shining gray eyes with sparkling shards of amethyst.

“Welcome to my coven, Leland Silver,” the Lord of Curses spoke. “You will not regret your choice.”

She held a wrinkled hand out, a glob of pure mana formed along her bony palm like a drop of sweat. It glowed somber purple before she abruptly rotated her hand, allowing gravity to take it. The drop landed against the soft soil, falling through the loose grains of dirt.

A rumble shook the area, enough to force Leland to his knees. He looked at his Lord, wondering what she intended for him.

The woman only smirked as the ground parted. Stems and roots poured from the hole, ushering in new life. Gray eyes appeared all around the forest, each staring at their newfound brother. They stood back, allowing the hole to produce all of its wonderment.

Eventually the roots and vines stopped and the Lord of Curses stepped forward. She idly reached into the center of the main mass, fishing around for her Legacy. With a striking pull, her hand returned holding a grimoire. Gently she passed it to Leland.

As soon as he touched the thick book, power and knowledge flowed through him where it eventually fell dormant. His mind closed up, locking his new power under the guise of experience. He smiled, looking over the tome.

It was a grimoire, that much was certain. But the runes and glyphs etched around the center cover were unknown to him. A ram skull, sewed with purple felt and golden thread, met his eyes, the hollow sockets staring with anticipation and potential. He felt power from within the book, no – from within his book.

It was his Legacy now, it was his to command. His parents had prepared him for this moment, giving him assignment after assignment about the subjects of the Dream Ceremony. If he remembered correctly, then all he had to do was—

The grimoire popped from reality, disappearing into a newly formed tattoo on the back of his palm. It took the form of a crow in midflight. Concentrating, Leland urged the book to reappear in his hands. It did, just how he imagined. He checked, the tattoo was gone as well. He smiled, turning to his Lord and sending the grimoire away once again. There would be time to play later.

“Thank you,” Leland said. “I can feel the power of your curses.”

The wrinkled old woman smiled. “You mean your curses. Not mine. They are as much yours as mine, I only show you a path forward.”

She raised her hand. “But you will learn in time. It is time for you to return, I only wish to leave you with some parting advice.”

Leland straightened his posture. “Thank you, I’ll gladly hear it.”

“Be careful of Witchhunters. They should only come after you if you abuse your power.”

“Wait what?” Leland started to panic. “What do you mean Witchhunters may come for me? I thought they only went after Witches?”

The Lord of Curses smiled solemnly. “And those who abuse dark spells. Simply don’t, and you will be fine.”

Leland scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, alright then… Thanks for the advice.”

Then the Lord of this Realm snapped her fingers, causing Leland’s eyes to whip open back in the real world.

The first thing he noticed was that the crow tattoo was very much real. The second was that the town’s emergency bells were chiming.

The Lord of Curses ruefully smiled to herself. She hated lying, especially the theatrics of it all. But still, it had to be done in this case. It wasn’t everyday she offered her Legacy, best to make sure he accept her power.

Her gaze fell to the open air. Suddenly a muted pop invaded her domain, summoning forth an older man. They stared at each other for a long moment before the Lord of Curses spoke.

“Your advice sucked! ‘Try to intimidate?’ I was losing him until I pulled out the waterworks.”

The Lord of Magic raised an eyebrow. “You cried to a mortal?”

“About how no one accepts my Legacy, yes,” she said, ignoring the embarrassing connotation. “Guilted him into accepting.”

“But he accepted nonetheless?”

The Curse Lord nodded.

A smile sprouted on the Lord of Magic’s face. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed. His parents are two of my favorites. But it's not every day you wish to indoctrinate a new Legacy. In fact I don’t even remember the last one.”

“She was about two thousand years or so ago.”

That cut the Magic Lord’s smile. “Ah, right… It really has been a long time.”

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