Eyebright

Day 10: Trial

He was already a child of the Plaguelands when he came to take his trial. His wings were marked with contagion, his body flecked and speckled with pock marks, his entire being engulfed in a hazy red stain of infection. Yet, he stood before the Necroservus administering the infection with a gleam of health in his eye.
The Necroservus had never seen a dragon of his kind before. "You...what are you?"
"I am born of two Statueborn," he replied. "It is my wish to join my clanmates in the highest possible devotion to the Mother. I have been baptized in her Plague, but I desire more."
"The Statueborn?" the Servus queried. He had heard of them, but now he was seeing one. He had not realized they were so massive. "Born of the Earthshaker himself? How can you serve the Mother so easily?"
"It is the best way, the surest way, of protecting my clan. I honor my Father for his creative work, but I honor my Mother, our Mother, for granting us the strength to not only endure but also thrive, as the rocks do not."
The Servus frowned. "Let the Mother decide, then, what she will do with you." He reached out a claw, and a new contagion sprang forth, intermingling with the Obelisk's own infection. "Go. Return in the allotted time."

The infection took longer to affect him than usual, perhaps due to his already-present infection. Still, eventually his head began to ache, and a sore throat developed. So the Mother had deemed him worthy of testing, after all. He smiled at the superiority of the Servus. He'd show him.

Beating back the infection was easy. In tandem with his other, the uncontrolled red stain began to recede into the neat stripes of the Mothertouched. He watched the mottlings of his body shift into larger patches of faded color. When he turned from side to side, he could tell that his wings were unchanged. The Mother accepted him and his infection alongside her own Gift. He was content. A desire to serve and to spread the Plague gifted to him began to burn within him.

As he emerged, ready to attempt the final trial, his eyes were shining with a new, fervent light. It was a subtle difference, but the Servus who had administered his Plague noticed, and was ashamed.

"The Trial of Contagion," a Necromancer announced, setting a Driftwood Baron before him. He knew that this was an extreme test of his new abilities; the creature's natural toxins made contagion difficult if not impossible. They were trying to make him fail.

His eyes gleamed. He would not fail. Breathing a prayer to the Mother, he reached within himself for her gift, and sent it in all its power toward the restrained familiar. It soon choked, and became severely ill. He let it suffer for only a moment longer than usual; he did not like its suffering, but he could not allow the Overseers to deny him his rank due to a weak moment of compassion. As the death-rattle appeared in its throat, he reached out and recalled the Plague. It returned to him easily, affectionately, vibrantly hanging in wreaths around his head, the markings of the Mother completely obliterating any markings his mane may have had before.

They could not deny him. His eyes gleamed more brightly, his mane hung heavy with the sickly-sweet scent of the Mother's gift, and his skill was apparent. "Make no mistake," he said to them, "we of the Statueborn will become renowned Necromancers. See how much more the marks of the Mother display in our manes. You will see us as Councillors, guardians, protectors, and more."