A/n: Ahoy! Ruff ho!

Howling Thunder Ch22: Black Curse

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Looking down at the, rather embarrassing state of Ragna, “Ulfa, float her back under her desk or something will you?”

He lip curls in disgust, “No way am I letting any of that seep into my form, the smell will last for hours.”

“Fine give me a hand then.”

We both take an arm and pull her back to the desk and sit her up against the base. I hop over the desk and make myself comfortable in the chair, rocking back and putting up my feet.

Glancing at the candle on the desk I snap my fingers causing the the flame to snuff out before slowly flicker back as a ghost flame.

“Ulfa, what exactly is go’n on with this? I’m not making real fire, nor am I channeling spirits like the witches in books.”

She shrugs but at this moment the main doors open with a dull thud which reverberates through the tower. Mother walks in with Aka and Walt in tow, her soft red tail slightly waging, her eyes directly on my little flame.

Mother smiles proudly, “That my pup, is spiritual essence. All things living and dead in both the mortal and other realms are made of some form of existence, an energy of sorts. Ghost fire is the ignition of life energy in the air, we exhale it with every breath and embody it when our physical self dies. Controlling it requires attunement with the otherworldly…You are the barghest of Freki, some day you might even command souls to flow from the living like water. I’d rather you never learnt such things however.”

She reaches forward and cups the small flame, lifting it straight up from the candle as if it was a flower to be picked. The Inari looks at me with a grin and the flame really does begin to dance and take the shape of a lotus flower bud. It then begins slowly revolving, blooming vibrantly into shades of blue and pink. Finally if flickers into the air as petals seemingly caught by wind.

Ulfa has an uncomfortable scowl, her eyes still looking at the spot the flames vanished. I can only wonder what she isn’t telling me.

Mother then glances at Ragna, “It is a strange thing, the mystical power of belief. From the day you were born Nox, Ragna always believed you some curse brought upon the family. Now even in her waking hours you cause her vivid nightmares.”

“If you think I’m going to apologise, you haven’t been paying attention Mother.”

She laughs then fiddles with her favorite pipe in thought, “No dear, however... Have you been practicing the dream magic I taught you at all lately?”

I glance at the pipe with a bit of jealousy, I’ve never had a desire to smoke but I readily admit she looks very mystical with the strange clouds it emits when she uses it.

“It’s not like I have a line of willing subjects to practice on.”

The pipe is pointed down at Ragna. Getting the idea, I walk around and kneel next to the sleeping woman. A small wisp of black clouds form in my hand, her breath inhales it all in one go.

Closing my eyes I get a blurry image of her dreams, like looking out a foggy window. A large black wolf chases her in the dark of the Black Wood. I exhale slowly and focus, the wolf fades like a cloud in a breeze, the woods go silent. Ragna collapses to her knees and I withdraw my senses.

“That should at least let her nerves calm a bit.”

Mother walks around the desk and pulls a set of keys from a hook, “Follow me pups.”

Akane scoots along side of me, “Finally made your own flame, took you long enough!”

Rolling my eyes, “Sorry I’m not as hot headed as some people.”

Something cold suddenly lands on my neck and slides down my shirt causing me to jump a little and leaving a wet feeling.

Looking back, all I see is Walt investigating the ceiling.

With a smile, “Ah brother, if only Sassa could witness such irresponsible behavior...speaking of, the twins?”

He ignores me, reading the spines of books we pass, but just as I turn my head back front I hear, “Mage tower.”

Seems I’ll have to visit the academy sooner.

We exit out a small locked door hidden in the farthest back bookshelves. The passage is extremely narrow as it seems to curve down below the library into the earth. Eventually coming to a large door framed within a set of pillars with various carvings.

Mother flicks her pipe causing a bit of ash to hit one of the pillars. Suddenly the room is bathed in a soft red glow as carvings of cherry blossoms light with color, small pink flames trace their outline. The glow of color crawls along the pillar carving like the branch is reaching to touch the door.

The door makes a dull noise in the room before shifting open.

Inside we find a circular room, smaller in scale than the library above ground. The bookshelves only line the walls around the room. In the center, a recessed ring of cushions circles a fire pit. It puffs to life with the same flames that opened the door.

Following the smoke of the fire, I glance at the ceiling to find it flicking with shadows of what looks like flowering tree branches. The smoke itself collects in the center before disappearing into the earth itself.

Mother explains, “This room requires the specific magic imprint of each person allowed within in order to open. The lighting of the room changes depending on who opens it. For example if Hyndla opened it the room would appear as if you walked into an ice cave, your father, a beast den, and so on. Now,”

She selects a book from the shelves for each of us, “Start reading, ask if anything comes up.”

Walther’s book is titled, “The Legacy of the Silver Mountain.”

Akane’s book, “Vulpine Exodus of the Orient.” The author is Mother surprisingly.

My own book is nearly tattered, bound in solid black leather, “The Children of Grim.”

Ulfa sees my book and looks like she just ate something sour. She shifts into her wolf form and lays down by the fire.

From the moment I sit down and start to read, time slips by like sand in an hour glass.

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400 years ago the middle continent was painted red with blood. It was the battle field between the humans from the west and the demons to the east. Each race, hungry with greed to control everything. From one side of the known world, to the other.

When the demons pressured the dragon kin into their ranks, the humans recruited the dwarves. When the demons consorted with their southern kin, the humans made treaty with the elves. When the demons enthralled the cats, the humans tricked the black wargmen into enslaving the other lycan tribes.

The leader of the black wargmen and human army was a monster of a wargman named Grim who came from Silver Mount. No one knows what promises were whispered into his ear, riches, women, perhaps even godhood. All that is known is that this traitor led with an iron fist, crushing anything in the path of his massacre.

Even the gods participated in this conflict, they knew whoever won would be known forever while the losers would be forgotten and fade into nonexistence. Their pride as well, would not stand to see their flocks become the lesser to another race.

In the lycan clan, the black wargmen were tasked to provide the most powerful front line force to combat the enemy. Every lycan female of any age was taken to be raped till pregnant. The resulting children to be raised with other captured children as fodder to the war. The old were killed by, and fed to the young. This saved on food for the army and fostered a taste for blood.

The wolf men who refused to fight were beaten, starved, and thrown into the front line in chains. The options were to die on the battlefield no matter what, so it was better to at least be able to defend yourself. It was this desperate motivation that kept their forces fighting long enough to bring the war back to a stalemate.

The demons had pushed the humans back east all the way to the great divide separating the known world from the dangerous wilds in the west continent. It was the frantic, losing, humans and the drunk on victory, demons, who allowed the oppressed beast clans to gather unseen.

The remaining grey wargmen of the Winter Tribe from Silver Mount escaped the hunters of Grim. Under the helping hand of the goddess of justice, Nemesis, they rallied those that had been driven from their homes. Having cut off the humans’ supply of frontline troops, they established a stronghold behind the demon’s lines. They used the demon’s supplies to build the initial fortress Yoden on the ashes of the Turul birds’ land.

The human and demon armies collapsed into chaos, they received no more orders, no more supplies. They fought to the very end, and the Yoden forces ensured none survived to report back. All either side got was notification that the war was over and the middle land now belonged to the beast race. Both human and demon forces were too exhausted to contest the claim.

As time moved on, prejudice remained in the Winter Tribe against any child born with the dark fur. The evidence of the past was frowned upon and the young would normally die of negligence or abandonment, often such children turned to thievery just to survive. After only 100 years the black furred bloodline practically disappeared save for the oddball of rare occasion. By this point such children were considered cursed, they were either killed or sold off into slavery to other races.

Black is the history of the Winter Tribe, and many races view them as barbaric still. So the simple solution was a new name, the Yoden Tribe. Although mostly gray, any pup born with white fur could be assured of a life of preferential treatment and a comfortable job in politics or as the spouse for a well-known merchant.

Monsters, traitors, slavers, rapists, cannibals, berserkers, thieves, cursed, enslaved, killed at birth....this is what happened to Freki’s lineage.

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