Prep--------- caref----------
BEWARE! If not ---------------- DEATH --------------- HORROR BEYOND IMAGINING
After the flames consume -------
None of which was that helpful, Caleb had to admit – but it was better than nothing.
Aside from finding out that ‘aurum’ was Latin for gold, and that he could find whatever this ‘aurum’ thing was in the woods here, Caleb was pretty much stumped.
But still – he knew he had to try. After a lifetime of bad luck, he was determined not to take this lying down anymore. He’d break the curse or… well. He didn’t want to think about the or.
Shivering as the fall wind picked up, sending the last of the yellow leaves on the trees rattling on their branches, Caleb started walking. He wanted to get to his cabin by nightfall, so he could get started on his search early in the morning.
Hey, what do you think this ‘aurum’ thing is? he asked his dragon as he walked. He guessed that was one of the perks of sharing his head with it – as annoying at it could sometimes be, with its demands, its pride, and its hot temper, at least it meant Caleb always had someone to talk do.
It must be an artifact of great power,his dragon said, eyes opening and glowing covetously. An item made of pure gold, imbued with an ancient magic. It has been buried in the woods since time immemorial, back when dragons still hid their hoards.
I suppose you would think that, Caleb told it. It was at least one thing that the fairy tales always got right about dragons – they really did have an insatiable lust for treasure. Which he supposed was why so many of them went into business these days. With their native luck and lust for riches, it was a natural fit. Treasure was pretty loosely defined, though: for some dragons, treasure meant a collection of beautiful seashells. For others, it was a collection of rare stamps or baseball cards. Still others collected nice lamps.
As for Caleb’s clan… well, it was original film reels of old movies. His father would lovingly and painstakingly collect and store them, travelling the world to make sure rare celluloid was properly collected and preserved. But before he stored them away, he always made copies, so that the films could continue to be enjoyed. He screened them in the small movie cinema his family had owned for decades, passing on the stories to new generations.
It was something, however, that Caleb had never been able to help him with.
It was simply too risky – some of the films his family owned were the only copies left in all the world. One accident – one tiny instance of bad luck – and the film would be lost forever. Never mind a bigger instance of bad luck, for example a fire at their storage facility, or a tornado hitting it despite the sunny skies all around.
No – it was a part of his family’s heritage that Caleb would never be able to partake of. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.
Unless I can break this curse.
Caleb knew he had to do it, if he ever wanted to consider himself fully part of his clan. If he ever wanted to be able to carry on his father’s work. He simply had no other choice. He’d just have to ignore all the BEWARE! If not ---------------- DEATH --------------- HORROR BEYOND IMAGINING stuff.
If he was successful, the reward would be more than enough. He’d just have to persevere.
Pulling his jacket collar up around his ears to ward off the cold, Caleb trudged on up the mountainside.