Curselock

Chapter 246: Valley

That night after camp was set up, Leland decided it was time.

“Lord of Vitality, I humbly wish to strike a contract with you.”

After traversing the Void for a minute or two, he appeared, his boots instantly becoming soaked. He didn’t sigh or mutter anything, but Leland did wonder why things like this keep happening. Just one time he wished for a Lord’s domain to be something normal... well, he supposed the Lord of Magic’s was nice.

Why can’t they all be a grand library or laboratory? he asked himself with a subtle headshake.

Looking around, he was standing in a puddle of water that just crested the bridge of his shoe. If his rubber heels were slightly taller, then his shoelaces wouldn’t have gotten wet. When he realized this, this time he did sigh. He hated walking in wet socks.

Looking past the water… there was just water. As far as the eye could see was water. Although, pure darkness, like a starless night, consumed the horizon. But oddly enough, light still illuminated the area. He could see himself and his reflection just as he could see the water dozens of paces away.

Small ripples came from Leland’s movements, and it was then he looked deeper. Below the water was smooth gray stone. Just stone. No cracks, no veins of sediment, nothing.

Always something weird, Leland said to himself. Always.

“You have come.”

He turned, more ripples rushing from his feet. A man sat atop the water, a thinning beard sporadically growing from his chin and cheeks. The man kept his eyes closed, but Leland hardly noticed that. Instead he looked at the man’s starved dark skin, his protruding ribs and his caved stomach. The man was shirtless, his arms like sticks, his legs similarly weak.

But despite this, Leland felt only power – elemental vitality.

Why he thought of elemental vitality instead of the Lord of Vitality, he didn’t know. But here, within an infinite puddle, that was all he felt. Longevity, health, vivification. The man was old, perhaps as old as the Lord of Curses. An original Lord, one before the Calamity. And somehow, all Leland felt when he looked at the man was vitality.

“You have noticed,” the Lord of Vitality said, opening one eye.

His voice was cool and smooth, like the very puddle he sat on. There were no ripples, none besides the few Leland was making.

Leland almost staggered, his legs went weak, his mind teetered. Yes, here, this man wasn’t just a Lord, but he was vitality. Perhaps he was beyond a Lord. Perhaps this man was what true becoming one with the elements was.

The man closed his eyes, and the power washed away from Leland.

“Y-you’re nothing like the other Lords I’ve met…”

The man considered this, each second stretching like the time between birth and death.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you have met some on their first steps to becoming like me. What is a little time?”

Leland didn’t want to answer, but felt compelled to anyway. “Everything,” he said, “everything.”

The man nodded. “Ask for what you wish, and you shall receive.”

“A-and in return?”

“Nothing. I have all I need.”

“T-then I ask for the knowledge of how to become like you!”

Answering such as this hurt Leland. Seeing this Lord’s power, he wanted a spell or ability for his script healing spell. But the change was too good to pass up.

Again, the man considered this. “No,” he said, his voice as flat as paper. “Ask again. And quickly, I wish you to leave.”

Leland didn’t hesitate. “A healing spell or ability. Something that I can use to protect myself and others.”

“It is done.”

A few minutes later, he was back at camp. And as much as he’d like to sit around and think about the man he’d just met, he had things to do. He glanced around, making sure everything was still in order, then muttered, “Lord of the Pure, I humbly wish to strike a contract with you.”

From the Void, Leland arrived in a temple made of clouds. But before he could look around or get a feel for things, a woman with eyes like miniature silver suns appeared.

“You are un-pure. You are not welcome.”

And just like that, Leland was back in the Void and the camp a moment later. With a sigh, he unfolded a piece of paper that was in his pocket and crossed out the Lord of the Pure.

“There goes that…” he whispered with a mocking flare. To his side, he noticed Gelo tilt her head at him. “I’m un-pure,” he said at the same volume, knowing she could hear him.

She gave him a look he could only take as sympathetic.

“Lord of the Mending Flame, I humbly wish to strike a contract with you.”

Back to the Void he went before entering the Lord’s domain. Luckily for him, he appeared before a wooden door with a little window about eye-height. He looked around, finding a quaint little cottage a few paces from the tree line of a twilight forest. Smoke gently bellowed from a chimney overhead, the smell of baking cookies wafted through the air.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” he said to the door, standing on his tippy toes to peer in. Then he realized that was rude and knocked.

The door swung open, revealing the Lord of Mending Flame in all her glory. Standing a head and a half taller than Leland, the woman smiled surreptitiously at him. Skin the color of hot embers and as rough as lizard skin, a forked tongue flicked from her teeth before darting back inside her cave-like mouth. Horns jutted from her forehead, each curling in and slightly upward.

Between her horns was the famous Mending Flame, a deep amber flame that was neither hot nor cold. Just standing a few steps away from her, Leland felt his dry skin smooth and hydrate. His aching feet felt as though they had been massaged by a professional, and the irritation from his belt rubbing awkwardly on his hip disappeared.

But the flame wasn’t what made him pause.

“You’re draconic.”

A chuckle escaped her leathery lips. “Indeed.”

“Does that mean we have to fight?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What did my brother do?” she sniffed the air, “Yes. I can smell him on you. The Lord of the Draconic, what did he gift you?”

“Wings.”

“Wings, of course.” She sighed, audible and with the stress of an older sister watching their younger brother do something stupid. “Fine, fine. He’s an adult. He can do as he wishes… And to answer your question, no, we do not have to fight.”

“But I thought the Draconic Curse made those afflicted fight for dominance?”

“It does. But our power levels are nowhere near each other. The curse might make us fight, but it doesn’t want us to kill each other. If that was the case, there would only ever be one draconic.”

“I see…”

“What I’m trying to say is that—” She cut herself off, looking off to the side. “I’m not going to make him do that,” she spoke to the open air.

“Is that the Lord of Curses?” Leland asked.

“No. It is my brother. He wants you to kneel to me.”

“Ah.”

“You should not. Do not give in to that man’s whims. He’s a fool.”

“Okay…”

They stared at each other for a moment before the Lord of Mending Flame said, “I baked cookies for your arrival. Would you wish to snack with me?”

And just like that, Leland was inside the Lord’s home eating cookies with milk while sitting on a couch made of goose feathers and soft leather. While gathering the platter of cookies and pitcher of milk, she asked him questions over his journey thus far.

“I’m investigating Tears as well as securing them from people who may want to exploit them… or teenagers who are curious, I guess. There’s probably going to be a few of those.”

The Mending Flame Lord nodded. “Sounds like an adventure. But what about more recently? I smell two of my siblings on you. Both powerful, but one much more…”

“Ah. That would be the Lord of Vitality and Lord of the Pure.” Leland dipped a cookie. “I was kicked out of the Pure Lord’s domain before I could even say a word.”

The draconic woman chuckled. “That sounds like her. Always a prude, that one.”

“What about the Vitality Lord? He felt… strong.”

“Indeed. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him. A recluse, that one. But you are right. He is old and powerful. Some say he is the oldest. What was his gift to you?”

Leland blinked at the question. He hadn’t even checked yet! How forgetful was he! Taking out his grimoire, he read the page aloud.

Cursed contract of the Lord of Vitality:

Use: For the duration of the contract, access to the spell, Imbue life, is granted. Only usable once per hour.

Return: Nothing.

Imbue life:

Type: Spell (Mist)

Rank: Equivalent to Harbinger Halo’s rank

Imbue life.

“Wait, that’s it?” Leland asked, reading and rereading the two word description. His face devolved from confusion to disbelief before the Lord of Mending Flame laughed.

“No, my sweet young mortal. That is an amazing spell. You have been truly gifted!”

His eyes flicked down to the page. “Have I?”

“Indeed! Indeed! Think about it like this, “Imbue life” has many, many meanings while something like “Imbue life into a target, healing wounds,” is far and away more constrictive. The shorter the spell’s description, the more open it is. Not to mention the spell and its description are the exact same. Does that make sense?”

As if the wool had been removed from Leland’s eyes, he stared at the page, a smile slowly creeping to his lip. A nervous chuckle welled from his gut, and he forced himself to take a sip of milk to cool himself off. To be gifted such a spell, then to have another Lord explain how lucky he was? He closed his tome, silently putting it away.

“I can see you are flustered.”

Leland flinched at her words, swallowing as deeply as he could. This was unlike him, but then again, he had also just met a man who may be one of the strongest beings in current existence. He shivered.

“I have decided I need to…” his words trailed off. “I think I should go to sleep for the night.”

The Lord of Mending Flame smiled. “Of course. Shall we get down to business before you go?”

Leland agreed, explaining his script spells and asking for something that would pair well with Imbue Life.

The draconic woman put her elbows on the table, staring at him with eyes made of golden amber. “A reasonable request, but one with increased stakes. Should I offer you something too weak, you might find the relationship between my offer and Imbue Life to be less than savory. Too strong, and you will never unlock the fathoms of potential Imbue Life has.”

She paused, turning to the side. “If you came to me for an attack spell, I know of just the one. But alas, you have not. Matters not, however, I know what I will offer.”

Reaching to her forehead, the Lord of Mending Flame took her pointer finger’s nail and cut vertically just above her eyes. There was no blood, no pain. But there was power.

Aura, Leland recognized the feeling of overwhelming authority. It made his knees weak and his arms go heavy, but he had long grown used to the struggle. Dealing with Lords had its perks sometimes.

From her cut, a third eye appeared, this one made entirely of crystalline amber. There was no iris, nor focus. It was a gem, embedded in her skull like how an enchanter may sew magic into tattoos or piercings.

“This is called a ‘Heartgem,’ and I shall gift you a kindling version of your own.” She smiled, pointed teeth and all showing. “For a price, of course.”

“Before we talk terms, I have a question. My friend Gelo talks about ‘Iceheart,’ and how it is the name she and her mother, the Lord of Dungeons, use when referring to true elemental ice. Is Heartgem within the same vein?”

“Indeed!” she laughed, slapping the table. “Who would have thought people still refer to the Hearts! Amazing what information remains after millennia.”

Leland sucked in a breath. “And what are the terms?”

“Oh nothing serious… I have a quest that needs to be done. Recently I’ve tried implementing a new, global strategy regarding healing isolated towns and villages.”

A knot formed in his stomach. He just knew this was going to be a big ask.

“I’ve already tasked my Legacies with this same quest, but they often are homebodies like me, so the effects of my strategy have been nearly zilch. The task is simple, Leland Silver, Son of the Calamity, Vagrant Warden of the Palemarrow Kingdome, Guardian Harbinger of Curses… All I need from you is to try, it matters not if you succeed, but try to convince towns, villages, anywhere isolated, not to blow out their candles during birthday celebrations. Tell them that the flames of their candles will radiate healing until they fully burn out.”

And just like that, the knot in Leland’s stomach unraveled. “That sounds reasonable… and noble.”