Vue

Vue

Lost

Vue's claws shook. She carefully dipped her quill into a small pot, removing it glistening with dark red ink. A tingle ran down her spine as she held the quill over the black piece of parchment spread on Vieux's casting table. She took a steadying breath, the gazes of the queen and the royal parents weighing heavily on her shoulders. Eyes closing, she let the words of her mentor flow through her mind.

"You must make the strokes with purpose. Each stroke. Every one, or the rune will not understand your intentions, and your ink will have been wasted. Now... make your mark."

The tip of the quill hit the page, and the blood red ink leeched into the parchment as Vue dragged it across the page. One stroke after another, her eyes locked on the tip of the quill as it inscribed carefully structured runes. As each magik-imbued sign left her claws, the air in the room became thicker. The first one to collapse was the royal hatchling, still bundled in his blanket. Then was the royal matriarch, followed by the royal patriarch, and then the queen herself. Their bodies slowly slumped to the cobbled stone floor, eyes rolling back in their skulls to reveal shining whites. White smoke trailed from four sets of nostrils, flowing across the floor and swirling into an ominous pool at Vue's feet. As she approached the last runes of the spell, her claws began to shake harder, leaving waves in the inky lines she put onto the page. Breath labored, gasping for air, she strained to make the final inscription. The very last stroke left her quill just before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her small frame collapsed. As her head hit the floor, all of the dragons in the cramped room flickered out of existence, leaving only the swirling white smoke to slowly disperse.
~
Vue's eyes snapped open to white. Pure white. Am I...blind? Is this the fate that the gods have given me for performing a ritual before I have become a true mage?
The cold hit next, seeping into her claws with a biting force--enough to make her stumble backwards, shaking violently. Angels take me now, before my devils claim my soul!

"You there! Where did you come from?"

As Vue turned her head toward the voice, color began to seep through the white of her vision, making blurry indistinct forms.

Goals: