Chapter 13: The Grimoire's Whisper

The great hall's red doors loomed before Liam, imposing and strangely intimidating. He could hear the rhythmic clash of steel from the nearby training yard, a sound that, under normal circumstances, would have been familiar, even comforting. Today, however, it only amplified the knot of apprehension in his stomach. He felt a strange itching in his muscles, a restless energy that begged for action, for movement, for combat. It was a new sensation, a byproduct of his heightened senses, his awakened magic, his changed self.

He glanced through a narrow window overlooking the training yard. Gareth, Anya, and Freya were sparring, but this was no ordinary practice session. They moved with a ferocity, an intensity, that Liam had rarely seen. They weren't just honing their skills; they were preparing for war. The sight sent a shiver down his spine. The world was changing, and the Volgunders, ever adaptable, were changing with it.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and reached for the heavy iron ring that served as a door handle. He hesitated. This was it. The confrontation he'd been both dreading and, in a strange way, anticipating. He had to face his father, had to explain the unexplainable, had to confront the consequences of his actions.

As he touched the cold metal, a voice echoed from within the hall, "Come in, Liam."

It was Arthur's voice, deep and resonant, devoid of any warmth or welcome. It was the voice of a commander, a patriarch, a man burdened by duty and tradition.

Liam pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside.

The great hall of Volgunder Keep was a testament to the family's long and storied history. High, vaulted ceilings soared above him, supported by massive stone pillars. Tapestries depicting scenes of battle and triumph lined the walls, their colors faded with age but their power undiminished. Ancestral portraits, stern-faced men and women in armor, gazed down from their gilded frames, their eyes seeming to follow Liam as he walked. Weapons, ancient and gleaming, were displayed on racks and in glass cases, a silent reminder of the Volgunder's martial prowess.

Arthur Volgunder was not seated on his usual high-backed chair at the head of the long, empty table. Instead, he stood near the massive hearth, where a fire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. He was dressed in simple, dark clothing, his 8-star emblem the only adornment. His face was unreadable, his expression a mask of stoic control.

Liam approached him slowly, his footsteps echoing in the vast silence of the hall. He stopped a respectful distance away and performed the traditional Volgunder greeting: a deep bow, his right hand clenched into a fist and placed over his heart.

"Father," he said, his voice low and respectful.

Arthur returned the gesture, a curt nod of his head. His eyes, the same piercing blue as Brad's, but devoid of any warmth, studied Liam with an intensity that made him want to squirm.

"Brad has informed me of the events that transpired after the final match," Arthur said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "I wish to hear your account." He paused, then added, with a pointed emphasis, "Everything."

Liam nodded, his mouth dry. "Yes, Father."

"I have summoned you here for three reasons, Liam," Arthur continued, his gaze unwavering. "First, I require an explanation. Tell me, everything that happened in the final from the second you stood, till the end. Hold nothing back."

Liam hesitated, then began to speak. He described the fight with Kael, the initial clash of swords, the feeling of being outmatched, the surge of demonic energy he had sensed in his opponent. He spoke of his desperate defense, his reliance on Brad's teachings, and then… he spoke of the ice.

He described the feeling of losing control, of being overtaken by a power he didn't understand, a power that had erupted from within him, fueled by a rage that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He described the ice that had encased his sword and shield, the impossible speed and strength he had possessed, the shattering of Kael's blade. He spoke of the voice, not his own, that had hissed those chilling words, that ancient condemnation of the Dergovia and his demonic power.

He spoke haltingly, hesitantly, at first, but as he continued, his voice gained strength, his words flowing more freely. He didn't try to excuse his actions, didn't try to downplay the strangeness of what had happened. He simply told the truth, as best as he could understand it.

Arthur listened in silence, his expression unchanging, his eyes never leaving Liam's face. The only sound in the hall was Liam's voice and the crackling of the fire.

When Liam finished, a long silence stretched between them. Arthur finally spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

"And this… power… this ice… when did you first become aware of it?"

Liam described his visit to Kael Volgunder's tomb, the surge of energy, the awakening of the magic, the stigma on his back. He explained how he had tried to suppress it, to hide it, fearing his family's reaction, fearing the power itself.

Arthur nodded slowly, as if confirming something he already suspected. He walked over to a large, ornately carved chest that stood against one wall. He opened it and removed a book, its cover made of thick, dark leather, its pages yellowed with age.

"Second," Arthur said, turning back to Liam, "I must give you this. It was once the most prized treasure of our family, passed down through generations, protected with utmost care. Now, it belongs to you. For you are the reason it was kept safe all this time."

He held out the book to Liam. "Read the inscription on the cover," he instructed.

Liam took the book, his hands trembling slightly. It felt strangely heavy, as if it contained more than just words, more than just paper and ink. He looked at the cover and read the inscription aloud, his voice echoing in the silent hall:

"To the one who will awaken magic in my lineage…"

As he spoke the words, a surge of energy pulsed from the book, bathing him in a soft, ethereal light. He felt a tingling sensation all over his body, and the stigma on his back itched, intensely. The book, as if sensing its true owner, clicked open in his hands, revealing pages filled with strange symbols and intricate diagrams.

It was a grimoire, a book of magic. And, to Liam's astonishment, he could understand it. Not the specific words, not the individual symbols, but the meaning, the essence of what was written. It was as if the knowledge contained within the book was flowing directly into his mind, bypassing the need for translation.

Arthur watched, his expression a mixture of awe and trepidation. "Every patriarch of the Volgunder family, myself included, has tried to open that book," he said, his voice hushed. "None of us succeeded. Until now."

Liam, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information, closed the book, the light fading, the itching subsiding. He looked at his father, his eyes wide with wonder and fear.

"This… this changes everything," Liam whispered.

"It does," Arthur agreed. He paused, then said, "And now, I will tell you all that I know about magic, as my father told it to me. It is the third reason I summoned you."

He began to speak, his voice low and measured, recounting the ancient history of magic in Drakonia.

"Magic," Arthur explained, "originates from dragons. They are creatures of immense power, and they release particles of magic, which we call magicules, into the air."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "But only a select few individuals are compatible with these magicules. Those who are… they can harness this power, store it within their bodies. The mark on your back, the stigma – it is a sign of this compatibility. But it does not guarantee strength. It merely indicates the potential for magic, tied to a specific dragon's essence."

Arthur continued, his words painting a picture of a world long past, a world where magic was commonplace, but also fraught with danger.

"Legend speaks of five great dragons, each embodying a different element: Ice, Earth, Fire, Light, and Darkness. The magicules they released corresponded to these elements."

"The Holy Kingdom," Arthur said, "draws its power from Light magicules. They claim only one person every fifty years or so is born with the compatibility, and they call this individual a 'Saint'."

He paused, his expression darkening. "Darkness magicules, on the other hand, were harnessed by demonic creatures. It is a corrupting, evil force, twisting those who wield it, driving them to madness and destruction."

"Earth magic," he continued, "was primarily used by the elves, a race known for their deep connection to nature."

"Ice and Fire magic were the most common, wielded by a variety of people across the continent."

He sighed, a hint of weariness in his voice. "But all of this was more than five hundred years ago. Magic seemingly vanished from the world. The dragons were believed to be extinct. We thought it was the end of an era."

Arthur looked directly at Liam, his gaze intense. "But your awakening, Liam, and Kael Dergovia's… taint… prove that we were wrong. The dragons are not gone. And the ancient conflict, it seems, is about to begin anew."

He paused, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. "I don't have all the answers, Liam. I don't know why you, of all people, have been chosen. But I know this: your destiny is a harsh one. Being the first to awaken magic in centuries will draw attention, not all of it welcome. But," he placed a hand on Liam's shoulder, a rare gesture of paternal affection, "I will support you. The Volgunder family will stand by you. You are a son of Volgunder, a successor to Kael Volgunder's legacy."

Finally, Arthur said, "You have won the tournament, Liam. And as the victor, you are entitled to a reward. Ask what you will, and I will provide it."