A Picture of the Heart

Nasovey waited anxiously at the end of the tunnel. The light from the Crafter’s lantern had steadily grown brighter adding to the dread of what awaited. Soon, he’d come face to face with the Koopakarud, who’d bowed before the human from the Weurgen command tent. This wouldn’t be pretty, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. The final moments seemed to drudge along as the Crafter neared. Might as well try the subtle approach first.

Nasovey waited until the Crafter was within ten feet before saying, “I seem to have lost my way.”

“Certain of that I am,” the Crafter said. “How get here?”

“Does your kind make a habit of betraying their King?” Nasovey blurted. There goes the subtle approach.

“Know nothing. Preserve my people. Black Oak rise. No stopping.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Weurgen attack city.”

“The King defeated them once. He’ll do it again.”

“Maybe. You with Master of Black Oak?”

“Not a chance,” Nasovey said.

“What I must, I do,” the Crafter said, removing the black silky cover from the book he’d used to summon the serpent in the Weapons Chamber. Adjusting its glasses, he said, “Ha comi, obscura luze.”

Once again, black words fell from the page, forming into the long, slender creature he’d seen in the Weapons Chamber. Coiling, it flicked out its tongue as if tasting the air. Without warning, it struck. Nasovey dodged right, narrowly avoiding its long black fangs. Again, it struck, and again, Nasovey dodged right, inadvertently slamming into the wall. Nasovey frantically looked right and left, but there was no way out. He’d successfully dodged two strikes only to end up trapped in the corner, and the creature seemed to know it.

Taking its time, the slithering abomination raised itself up, seemingly preparing for one final strike, but never got the chance. Instead, blinding amber light suddenly filled the tunnel, causing Nasovey to shield his eyes as a blanket of warmth washed over him. A surge of relief flooded his senses, filling him with a renewed sense of hope.

The creature hissed, and Nasovey could hear it thrashing about as another burst of light exploded. Nasovey pried his eyes open and squinted. The creature was flailing and striking madly in all directions. Nasovey threw himself to the floor as the light and heat intensified and the slithering words turned serpent jerked about violently.

Suddenly, a Gift landed between Nasovey and the creature. The bird flapped its wings, sending a wave of heat that disintegrated the glossy black creature. The Crafter—standing only a few feet behind its summoned abomination—tried to shield its face with the book, but it burst into flames. Dropping the fiery book, the Crafter cried out as the heat wave blasted him.

“That’s enough!” Nasovey yelled, but the attack continued. Any moment now, he’d witness the gruesome death of the Crafter. But then, when all hope seemed lost, the attack ceased, and the bird landed.

“Can you get me out of here?” The bird crouched low in response. Cautiously, Nasovey reached out and touched it. When nothing happened, he gained courage, hopped onto its back, and hugged its neck tightly. Then, lifting into the air, the Gift shot ahead with astonishing speed. Once they entered the cavern, they rose high above the Black Oak and circled once before diving. Just as it seemed they’d smash into the ground, the bird pulled up, mere inches above the floor, and entered another tunnel at blazing speeds.

The Gift navigated the tunnel’s twists and turns at speeds Nasovey could only dream about, and soon they reached the end. Hovering near the wall, the Gift emitted a soft, warm light, revealing an indention in the wall and, inside, a lever. Nasovey reached out and pulled. Something clicked. With a gentle nudge from the bird, a small section of the wall swung outward. Outside, the Gift climbed high into the night sky.

“Hey! I can see something glowing way out there toward the east. That must be the place they call the Vale. And look! Over there in the woods. That must be the place they call White Chair. Wow. I really can see everything from up here.” Including that, Nasovey thought as he spotted the fires strewn across the once golden plains of White Oak.

“Can you take me to the King?”

Without warning, the bird dipped its head, tucked its wings, and they dropped which caused Nasovey’s stomach to suddenly feel strange. Not in a woozy kind of way, but almost enjoyable. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long before the Gift flared its wings, and they glided toward the back of the city, where a structure towered above a garden. As they approached, the bird angled them toward the right side of the building. Without warning, the Gift made a sharp left turn, and before Nasovey even had time to gasp, they’d entered a hole in the wall.

The Gift’s amber glow illuminated a circular tube, which they flew through briefly before exiting into a massive room. The telltale glowing floors said they were in the throne room. The Gift glided to the floor a few feet before the throne and allowed Nasovey to slide off before flying to the armrest beside the King.

“My Lord,” Nasovey said, bowing.

“What did you find, my friend?”

Nasovey spent several minutes telling the King about the corrupted Crafter, the Secrets of the Black Oak book, the underground cavern, the hooded man, and how the amber Gift saved his life.