The Necromancer's Cauldron

Chapter 12

AN: Whew, better get this uploaded before the migraine sets in. Just one more chapter to go! This fic has been fun and interesting to write, so I hope it has been the same to read. Let me know what you think!

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Chapter 12:

Despite the aches and pains, despite the heaviness in his limbs, Drayce felt comfortable. And warm. A place where he was safe. It would be so easy for him to go back to sleep. Yet, a nagging feeling was pulling him to wake up.

"Drayce?"

Not to mention a familiar voice calling to him.

It took all of Drayce's strength to force his eyes to open. He allowed his head to roll to the side, where a blurry figure appeared. Though his vision was impaired, he recognised the one next to him immediately. "Ash?'

"You're awake." Ashton sounded relieved. "How do you feel?"

With his eyesight clearing, Drayce furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to his surroundings. "Where-?"

"You're home now," Ashton interjected, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

His bed. In his room at the Crescentia. The room was dark, lit by a couple of candles and the moon through the windows.

Drayce lolled his head toward Ashton once more. "What happened? Did I make everyone worry again?"

"Shashi told us everything."

Shashi?

The memories of what occurred at the museum, the two smug men forcing Drayce to hand himself over to them under the threat of another wendigo attack. How he had to leave Shashi behind, unknowing if he could be used and threatened in another way. How he was shoved into a carriage and promptly knocked out to ensure his 'compliance'.

"Shashi?" Drayce sat up straight in bed. "Is he alright?"

"I'm right here. I'm fine."

Drayce looked over to the door of his room, where the very Sigil expert stood. He breathed a visible sigh of relief as Shashi walked into his room and moved toward the other side of his bed. "Ah, I'm glad. And the curator?"

Shashi sat down onto the edge of the bed, just like Ashton. "Egar is taking care of the museum."

Uttering a tired sigh, Drayce nodded his head before he took a moment to make himself comfortable being in a seated position. But as he placed some of his weight on his left arm, a streak of pain caused him to wince. And to immediately pull his hand back, to look down at it. Thick, white bandages wrapped tightly around his forearm greeted him, held in place with a small bobby pin.

Oh, right. He remembered now. Nukpana had stabbed him. Right through the arm. To get his blood, adding it to the cauldron.

Why he needed Drayce's blood specifically for the ritual to summon the dreaded Matchitehew's wraith, he had no idea. Terence had said it was because of Drayce's royal blood, which made him wonder if he had initially had his eye on young Ramus, only to realise that his security was too much of a hassle.

He was glad that Ramus wasn't dragged into the mess with him.

Still, Drayce's royal blood couldn't be the true reason. Though, he couldn't rule out the notion that they chose him to spite the Legendary Dragoon in some way.

"No permanent damage was done to your arm, thankfully," Ashton revealed, pulling Drayce from his jumbled musings. "Fiorello will want to keep an eye on it, however. He also wants you to take some medicine to ensure that it doesn't become infected."