Chapter 21: Parter of Veils

I tried to pull some TTS vibe to this story, but I am not sure how well I did. I had to rewrite the banter bit far too many times, but I'm still not fully satisfy.

…

Previously

"WHY AM I NAKED? WAIT. WHY ARE YOU NAKED? …. You know what? don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

…

Inside Jon's mindscape, there is an enraging elder dragon.

Vaevictis Asmadi has no physical mouth but he wants to scream. Thousands of years ago when he was seemingly struck down by his cousin Palladia-Mors, he found himself stranded on a blackwater plane. A plane where its god was so weak, they could not take a physical form. A plane where humanity only short of crawling out from the dirt pit. A plane so far off he could scheme and plot without alerting others. It was just the plane that he needed.

He was so weak after the fight, barely clinging on to life in fact. Such a shame a might elder dragon such as he was brought so low. He had far too many enemies and no ally left. The planeswalkers are too powerful for him to take on. Their control over the raw amount of mana was even surpassed his. To regain his status in the multiverse, he needed more power. He needed their power as his own.

Thus, he began his grand plan. A planeswalker was born out of a pure chance. One in a million would possess a spark and even less so could ignite it. Anyone could become one whether the highest of kings or the lowest of slaves. All he needed was time for one host to appear.

At his dying breath, he cast his final spell on the region that nowadays was called Valyria. His blood solidified creating a magical mineral deposit. His nearly exhausted magic pool transformed instilled primitive clans in the vicinity into what later arrogantly called themselves Dragon Lords. His heart became the birthing pool of the first giant drakes. His soul was shattered into nothingness but his conscious lingered in those pathetic cavemen.

On that day Vaevictis Asmadi had fallen and Valyrian's dragon god was born.

Generations over generations these Valyrians and raised their empire to a great height. They had brought rival empire of Gis and Rhoynar low with their spell, fire, and steel. Yet none of the people show any potential to ignite their spark.

The Valyrian soon became too mighty. Their infighting was not enough to birth a planeswalker. Easy time breeds weak men and that was unacceptable. A sacrifice needed to be made. Vaevictis had also planned for this: A contingency plan to destroy the civilization about five thousand years after his death.

Something that the historian called Doom of Valyria.

He predicted that some remnants of the minor dragon lords would flee and would find a new home. The infighting to claim the title of the successor of the empire would create a bloodshed of an epic proportion. He was right.

Alas, no spark was ignited.

History repeated itself over and over. Never once was his plan came close to succession. Not until a few years ago.

At last, after thousands of years, a suitable host was born.

A product of incestuous fool and naïve lass. An orphan of war his parents had started. A boy with no motherly figure in his life and an absolute fool of a father figure. The circumstance was not ideal, but the multiverse works in a mysterious way. The boy incurred the wrath of puny gods of this plane and was robbed of life. Or at least that what was meant to be.

His sparked ignited was his thread of fate was forever severed. The boy planeswalked to Innistrad and Vaevictis Asmadi lived again.

Everything played out smoothly. He even eluded the detection of Ugin as he gnawed away his host control over his body. Has not for the damn wolf spirit intervention, he would have total control by now.

He accounted for other planeswalkers interfering. He accounted for other elder dragons interfering. He accounted for gods, even pitifully weak as they were.

But a mere spirit set him back and even pissed on his face. That was unacceptable.

No matter, he still had plenty of chances. All he had to do was to deal with that wolf spirt. Then he needed to tie up loose ends afterward.

There were two incestuous silver-haired barbarians that he needs to eliminate in the blackwater plane. His plan of revival was already complete to there is no need to keep the contingencies any longer. He doesn't want, as unlikely as it could be, another Vaevictis Asmadi to awaken.

That and the fact that they arrogantly called themselves a dragon lords while they are in fact a toothless worm. The nerve of these savages.

…

Tarkir's wind is cold. Very cold. Especially when you decide, or not, to wear nothing.

And the amount of blood pumping that required to keep the body warm also has a very synergistic effect when exposing to a certain stimulant.

Even when the said stimulant is a fit femme fatale of an adoptive mother.

It doesn't take Jon long at all to realize that some part of him has awoken more than others.

"Oh. My." Said his mother. With her eyebrow raised, she smiles. "I'm quite flattered."

Jon's hands have never moved so fast. His cheek turns red as excessive blood rush toward it from below. His draconic heritage makes his skin turns burning hot it creates steam out of the cold air.

That is not the only part of him that is burning hot.

"Don't you dare say another word! Mother." He haphazardly said. "Don't. You. Dare."

Feeling as threatened as being mugged by a homunculus holding a candy stick, his mother grin expands even wider. "Or what? Hmm."

An awkward silence ensues. Arlinn places her hands on her hips and snorts. "Don't threaten someone when you don't have anything to back it up, Jon. It is pathetic. And if we are not injured, I will beat that into your thick skull right now."

For all his life, Jon considers himself quite a smart kid. Even in Winterfell, he was told he was quite a fast learner. For some time, he suspected that it just kind words from Maester Luwin to make him feel good about himself. Then he met his mother and found that Maester Luwin was right. He was a fast learner. If he were not, his mother would beat him to death a long time ago. From what he knows about her, she probably would. Law of the wild and all that.

As Jon turns away and rubs his temple….

Temple as in the area of the head slightly beside the eyes, you dirty mind people. There is no euphemism here.

Anyway. As Jon turns away and rubs his temple, he hears a series of footsteps. He doesn't need to guess whose steps they were. There are only five people, both of them included, who have access to this place. One of which is an elder dragon who can fly. That leaves this uncle Vol and aunt Narset, two people he doesn't want to see him naked.

And by Avacyn if they don't wear any clothes either, he gonna bash his head on the stone bed.

Fortunately, the two Tarkirian have enough self-respect to put their clothes on.

"Kord. I heard you're back." Said Sarkhan Vol as he walks into the room. Then he laid his eyes on her and staggered. "By the might of the Ur-dragon, wear something will you?"

"Come on, Vol. What do you need to fluster about? We did much more than you that the last time."

This is not happening.

"Damn you woman, your son is right here."

At least his uncle agrees. Who knows that the man who once titled 'The mad' is the voice of reason in this conversation? Not him, and apparently not his mother.

"If you want to make him a proper man at least let him start with something basic. Find him a lass from one of the clans and guide him through it. Well, maybe not those freaks from Silumgar's swamp. Anyway, my point is the usual things that we do will break him."

Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck.

"Bah." His mother snorts. "Jon doesn't make of glass, Vol. He can handle it. Don't you think so? Narset?"

The question was met with silence.

"Er ….. Narset?"

Jon turns around and finds that aunt Narset buries her face on uncle Vol back to hide her embarrassment. She did slightly peek her head just enough to catch a sight of him off guard though.

Aunt Narset appears even more frustrated when three of them turn and stare at her, expecting her to say something. And a deafening silence later, she did.

"Ara Ara. Our little Snow has grown up."

Fucking hell!

…

It was cleared that Ugin was not happy. Even a blind man could see that.

It takes quite a while for the sensational craziness to die down, but they finally did. It started when Ugin came in to shut down the ruckus to find that half of them was naked and the other half was about to.

The dragon reprimand was long and harsh. That last sentence was not an innuendo either. At least when it ends, they can talk like a proper civilized people. With their clothes on.

Avacyn be praised. Finally, some common decency in this dysfunctional family.

Never to say, Ugin doesn't find their situation amusing. Jon picked up some of his complaints in draconic tongues. Something about shameless mortal and dioecy fools.

Jon does not know what "Dioecy" means, but he has a hunch that it will make him seem smart if he could use it in a sentence. He will make sure to find its meaning later.

Fortunately, Ugin's ire does not focus on him.

The adults, on the other hand, are scared shitless, sort of.

The adults may hide it well, but he knows fear when he sees one. Ugin can be fucking terrifying when he wishes to.

To make it clear, Jon would prefer fighting Atarka with only his fists than facing the current Ugin. At least he would see his death coming against his former clan tyrant.

Here they are. Sitting on a 'couch' like a 'proper family'. Jon sits on one end, aunt Narset sits on the other. Between them sit his mother and uncle Vol, while Ugin looming over them from the opposite end of the hall.

That is as close as he could get while none of them need to strain their neck looking up or down. The difference in scale did not occur to them when they carved out the extended sanctum.

The interior design that suited both humans and dragons was neither a common practice among planeswalkers nor architects.

"It seems I had tolerated decadent behavior of you three for far too long. Seriously, a wound child? Need I remind you what the purpose of allowing you children to stay in my sanctum?"

Ugin was like a mountain, heavy, and immovable. Every word contains his will and authority.

"What! We didn't …"

"Shut up Arlinn. From now on there will be no intercourse in my sacred place or there will be dire consequences. Our kind is the true inheritor of the multiverse. You four should start to act like one."

The four younger planeswalkers know it would be pointless to challenge them. Not that Jon cares to dispute it either, anything that reins in his mother's activities is a blessing to his mind.

"That aside. You two came here last night seriously wounded." Ugin added. "And smelled like a wet dog."

"They still do." Added uncle Vol, earning himself a scratch. Nothing that his magic wouldn't fix but it looks nasty. "What? You stink like you had been wrestling an Ainok."

'More like wrestling as an ainok'. Jon thought. 'Sort of. What is the difference between werewolf and ainok anyway? Apart from one is part wolf and one is part dog.'

Well, the difference is in details. Not that Jon understands, of course. It was not in his curriculum. Identifying the intricate difference between two species would help him fuck all to be a better planeswalker. Why learn about that when you can practice slinging spells? Why learn about that when you can spar in close-quarter combat? Why learn about that when all you need is to know enough to blend in with the local populace?

"Vol." Ugin's voice is stoic with a little hint of pissed off. "Shut up. And let Arlinn talks."

Of course, uncle Vol obeys without any further words.

Jon believes he sees the vein popping out of the spirit dragon's scales. How could the law of reality be broken to this degree? Fuck of he knows. But then again, nothing makes sense when their kind are involved.

From his point of view, the two interaction was akin to a disappointing parent scolding a child, which is ironic considering that his five 'children' are tyrannical dragon overlords.

…

It had been a long time since Arlinn had been …. Let's say, rebuke …. By some sort of authority. Sure, many of her few friends called her a bitch and/or slut here and there, but that was a term of endearment. Tamiyo was a great example. As she once told Jon, most planeswalkers stay clear of each other personal life. Apart from her little pup, her relationship with Narset and Vol is more of a special case. She doesn't even have friends that aren't planeswalkers anymore, excluding those men she had a one-night stand with, of course. They are more of an occasional stress reliever.

What is she thinking about again? Oh, yes, getting rebuke by an authority. She didn't have that since she was a child.

There was once a young and beautiful girl in Innistrad named Arlinn Kord. She lived in a village called Orleans not too far from Ulwenvald forest. Life was harsh but fair. Everyone was as happy as they could be. She prayed to Avacyn every night before sleep and every morning after wake. She prayed to Avacyn before and after every meal. Life was simple back then.

My mother was a seamstress.

She sewed me silk pantaloons.

My father was a gambling man.

Down in ye old Orleans.

It was a faint memory. Being a werewolf changed her greatly. She forgot things more than she could even care to remember. Painful memories that she had locked away were there for a reason. So much blood, so much scream. The sad looks in their eyes. The dying words that chilled her bones.

But one thing that she could remember was when she was outside for too long and came home late. She didn't remember what caused her to be late, but her mother seemed to convince that it was the boys in the village. She didn't know what caused her mother to do so for boys are stupid. She tuned out most of her mother's rambling which led to receiving no dinner that night.

But that's not the point. The point was that she was sitting like she is doing now, and her mother is looking down on her like Ugin is doing now. Same posture. Same tone. The only difference is that while her mother could beat her with a stick, Ugin could completely wipe her from existence with ghostfire.

When Ugin told you to sit, your ass better hit the chair before he finishes his sentence.

And that is why the elder dragon had absolute authority in this dysfunctional family of five. As much as the old wyrm insisted that 'they aren't anything of sort' and 'they work for him', she begs to differ.

Which lead her to the current predicament. How in the hell could she explain their fight with Garruk? She doubts Ugin would understand the importance of protecting one hunting ground. Or how could She let Jon got hurt in an 'unnecessary fight'? Well, she didn't think that he would get hurt, but then again who would expect Garruk to cheat death?

'Well. Here goes nothing.'

"We got into a fight with Garruk Wildspeaker. He was stronger than we thought so we transformed" She tries her best to sound as nonchalantly as she can. "Our clothes got destroy during the transformation."

'That should do it. Right?' She hopes it is so.

Of course, it is. The three know as much about parenting as she was, which is almost nothing, not even a common sense. They might complain, sure, but as long as her pup didn't die, they wouldn't interfere much.

"Why did your transformation leave you naked?" Asked Vol.

"Why did yours don't?" She replies. Truthfully, that is one of the questions they cannot answer no matter how hard they think about it.

"Magic." Vol smiles. "Duh."

"Fuck you Vol." She retorts only to have Vol laughing it off.

"Still, you made a poor judgment dragging the brat along." Vol scowls. "He barely survives a sparring match against one of us holding back. What makes you think he is ready to face another planeswalker, let along one as dangerous as Garruk?"

What Vol said makes sense. Of course, she doesn't like it when he points it out like that, but she couldn't find anything to disagree with. Jon is far from ready to face another planeswalker.

She always knew that the plan was reckless, but then again, they are the ambusher. It was supposed to be easy to retreat when they were unsuccessful. Who would have thought that the outcome would be like last night?

"We are on the offensive and we did a perfect ambush. Everything went perfectly. We hit him with everything we got. Jon lunged his spear through his chest and burned him with his dragon roar. I transformed and clawed his face off. The bastard didn't go down so we fought." Said Arlinn. She notices that her son tenses up at the B-word, but she knows that he does not take it to heart. She doesn't raise a wimp who would let a mere word to get him.

Silence ensues. That is to be expected. Even when Ugin doesn't see the huntsman a threat, Vol and Narset would. Vol is an experienced planeswalker. He had visited multiple planes and must have heard of Garruk's killing spree. While Narset's spark only ignited a few years ago, she probably knows a lot of things by spending her time with Vol.

Consider they are basically joined at the hip, both literally and metaphorically, she would expect nothing less. Narset is a curious and inquisitive girl. Even when banished from the Jeskai clan, she still thirsts for knowledge like a fish thirst for water.

Arlinn had to admit that analogy isn't well put, but she isn't a wordsmith. Anyway, fuck simile.

"For fucks sake, Arlinn…" Vol curses. "Is he dead? or we need to prepare for his revenge?"

"No. He got away." She could see Vol's frown grows even deeper at her answer. "I mean, he should be had his curse not saving him. The man is transforming into a demon."

"Is that possible? Can a demon become planeswalker?" asked Narset. "I know they can travel through the blind eternity, but can they have a spark?"

"Well. I heard some demon on Zendikar claimed that it used to be a planeswalker." Added Vol.

Their sidetrack would continue had Ugin not interrupted them.

"That was reckless of you. Making an unnecessary enemy is a foolish move. Letting him alive was even worse. A lone planeswalker can disrupt any well-laid plan."

The old dragon is as detached to the situation as ever. Ugin seems to only care about the big picture, only his grand plan. Arlinn couldn't blame him though. To live that long and to once possess that much power and the lost it would take a toll on one's mind, let alone got killed by his own twin and came back to life.

Had she possessed that much power, most problems she currently has would be trivial as well.

While it is true that she is annoyed by his demeanor, she is not foolish enough to voice it.

The power dynamic is a pain in the ass, and it is not a good kind that she enjoyed.

"Find a way to fix this mess you made. I would be uttermost displease if your problem becomes my problem." Said the elder dragon before he leaves.

It seems she would be spared from his scolding after all.

"Oh. Before I forget." The elder dragon turns back. "Snow." He calls her pup. "You better be ready to fight another planeswalker the next time this happened. As for you three …."

Or Not.

"Meet me at the training yard at dawn tomorrow. I believe it is time I impart something valuable to the younger generations."

Shit.

…

Custom Card of the Chapter

Card Name: House of Rising Sun

Type: Land

Card text:

House of Rising Sun enters the battlefield tapped

At the beginning of your untap step, you may pay 2 life. If you don't, House of Rising Sun remains tapped.

T, add 2 mana of any color to your mana pool

Rarity: Uncommon.