By Its Cover (A "What Dreams May Come" Vignette)
With fishing rods in hand, three brothers sat at the lake’s edge, basking in the glow of the evening moonlight as the gentle lapping of ocean water filled the air. Mostly placid waters mirrored the now docile Island of the Four Winds as Fyodar’s ritual had ended the horde of undead.
Iskandr pulled some of the slack from his line attentively, his gaze on the horizon. The Legionnaire rarely set foot in the Harbor, and, in these ‘family gatherings’, he enjoyed conversation away from the world of battle. “So, does anyone have a story to tell?”
Draelor nodded, and Yardie smiled. “Why yes,” Draelor confirmed. “Yes, we do.”
“Did you find a passage to the Island from the open waters?” Iskandr asked.
Yardie groaned, “It doesn’t exist, brother. I think the story we have is far more interesting.”
“What then is more interesting?” the elven woodsman inquired.
It was then Yardie informed him about the maniacal yet compelling plot of Pashtal, aka Mr. Shadow, the death of Penre, Jorgarn's supposed murder, Greth’s abduction, an evacuation of the children in Mist Harbor, and the mentalism of Talinvor upon said children. Of course, all of that took a backseat to Pashtal’s sudden immolation; and the infamous book that the scoundrel carried.
“I gave the book to Draelor.” The rogue sighed, considering the cost that bounced like a bad check. “I had no intention of opening it, and we tried to burn it. May have lost a few friends because of that book. In any event, they found the artifact and restored the island.”
“But the book wouldn’t catch fire, not with the cigars, my magic, nothing. So I took it to an alchemist. That’s when I learned about it.” Draelor finished the story.
Iskandr poured another drink from his keg, filling his mug with amber-colored ale that foamed at the brim. “What did you discover?”
A deadpan expression marked Draelor’s face, his wings folding back as he shrugged. “Do you really want to know?”
Draelor retrieved the book and opened it, showing them every page. Yardie and Iskandr exchanged glances, and Yardie barked out an incredulous peal of laughter. “It's... wait, there's no, like... magic, or invisible text? It's just...” he trailed off.
Draelor nodded in confirmation. “The entire thing.”
Yardie's expression shifted to a devilish smile, canines protruding as he chuckled in disbelief. He exchanged another glance with Iskandr, who remained indifferent as he took a long swig from his mug.
“It will never be seen again,” Draelor vowed.
Yardie agreed, “Yeah, just to be sure.”
“Do you plan on telling the others?” Iskandr asked.
Yardie let out a long exhale. “Rather let them think what they will,” he said. “Curiosity makes for the best bait.”
A sharp tug pulled Yardie’s line, and the rogue flexed his well-defined arms and back, seeking his prize.
((Thanks to Quilic for the Quality Control check and insight and thanks to the brothers....who've had my back since Day One.))