InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Lord of the West ❯ The Curse of the Scrying Bowl ( Chapter 6 )

{+} {+} {+} LORD OF THE WEST {+} {+} {+}

 

{+} {+} Chapter 6: The Curse of the Scrying Bowl {+} {+}

 

He sailed through the night; a collection of lights bearing his physical form in within the envelope of his soul. Trees rushed by beneath him; clouds blew past above him. Wind rushed through him, yet he felt no chill.

 

This gift was his mother's legacy---she who had been a wild spirit of the deeper woods; a relic of the dawn of demonkind given moon-pale flesh and a woman's warmth. She had met his father in the wood, in a glade where the sun fell slantwise through the interlacing branches and there existed such stillness and such peace that the Youkai lord's heart had never known the like. He looked up from the spring where he had been drinking and she stood on the other side, ephemeral and unreal as a legend. Though it was morning, there was moonlight in her hair, and in her eyes. Yet her flesh had proved real enough as both fell upon a bower of moss to merge beneath the forest canopy, drawn together by the magic of the place. Afterward, she kissed the lord's eyes, and he fell into a deep slumber, and did not wake again until nightfall. When he did, she was gone, swallowed by the forest as if she had been given form only for that moment in the glade and none thereafter.

 

Sesshoumaru's father had never seen her again, though he searched for her often and always walked alone in that forest in the morning light. Yet one such morning, he arrived at the spring, and found a sight that made his heart clench with the fires of memory. Where once the spring moss had grown to carpet the forest floor, there now grew a cluster of snow-white flowers. In their midst there lay a small child, pale and ephemeral and unreal, lying curved like a crescent moon. The Youkai lord bent to touch the boy's hair, his face, breathing in the sweet scent of the blossoms that cradled him.

 

The child awoke, turning his small, beautiful face upward, revealing eyes the golden shade of amber---eyes like his father's. The child's head lay cushioned on white fur; his father's fingers brushed across it carefully, as if the Youkai lord were afraid this boy were an illusion that would vanish as his mother had.

 

White fur was the mark of the Inu Youkai Clan.

 

The child was his.

 

The Lord of the West lifted his son in his arms, and the fragrant blossoms tumbled from the boy's body in a soft shower of white. Though he was very small the boy was not afraid. Trustingly he wrapped his arms around his father's neck, and allowed himself to be carried away beyond the forest.

 

The child did not know speech at first, though it seemed he understood everything that was said to him and he learned rapidly. His father taught him this and many other things, but when the boy asked about his mother his father could only answer: “I have lost her, but the forest gave you to me.”

 

He called the boy Moriatae meaning “Forest Gift.”

 

Later, when the boy became a man, he chose for himself a new name, but in those first years he was Moriatae to his father.

 

Sesshoumaru's ability to travel as he did now---in the form of clustered light---and the crescent mark upon his forehead were the only remnants of his mother in him. He did not care to remember her because she had left him, and he could not have remembered her even if he had desired it. From the moment of birth his life had passed in a strange dream of moonlight and vines, and he had not awoken until the moment his father lifted him in his arms. Then his life had begun anew, and all else faded to white.

 

In this way, Sesshoumaru was not so very different from Rin.

 

He flew over the woods, over hill and dale, rock and river, and then on into the mountains.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

The Seer lay dreaming.

 

She tossed and turned in her bed, entangling one hand in her hair, which was splayed across the pillow like a halo. The dream was dark, as all of her dreams had been since the Youkai lord had brought her to this place. She saw his face clearly now when she slept. The black, obsidian eye was open now, and watching, and now it was turned upon this proud, quixotic demon whose obsession she understood all too well.

 

“He walks blindly,” she whispered as she slept. “Blindly. Blindly into . . .”

 

“Into what?”

 

The Seer snapped awake to see a pair of large brown eyes peering down into hers. She let out a startled cry and sat up, pressing one hand to her bosom.

 

“Into what?” the child bending over her repeated.

 

It was a little girl, wearing a silk kimono embroidered with fish. For a moment the Seer could do nothing besides stare at this vision of youth and happiness in the heart of what seemed to her a very lonely, empty castle. The little girl stepped back a little, placing her small hands on her hips.

 

“What is your name? Can you not speak?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and eyeing the startled woman with a look both curious and shrewd. Something about the girl's formal manners and rather piercing scrutiny seemed very familiar to the Seer.

 

“I am Suiton. Are you a ghost?” the Seer asked, letting the blankets fall away from her shoulders. It was the only explanation she could think of for such a young human child wandering around the Youkai lord's halls. She supposed that he must have devoured this girl at some point and now her spirit was confined to the castle.

 

“Sesshoumaru-sama says that there were ghosts once, but now their souls are free,” the girl replied, laying one thoughtful finger on the side of her chin. “Rin is glad there are none,” she added, “because the ghosts made him sad.”

 

Suiton stared at the girl, unsure of what to make of this strange speech. This child spoke as if she knew the Youkai lord well, and she certainly didn't seem dead. . .

 

“Come on,” the little girl urged, suddenly catching hold of the Seer's hand and tugging at it. “Let us go exploring now!”

 

Suiton flinched at the contact of skin on skin, fearing that she would frighten the child from the offset with the strangeness of her gift, but then she realized something that came as a further shock to her.

 

Even as the little girl's small hand grasped hers, no magic came, and no illusions filled the space between them. The Seer was aware only of the small, warm fingers as the girl pulled her hand encouragingly.

 

This girl---this “Rin”---had no memories.

 

Suiton opened her mouth to ask something, but then she changed her mind and allowed the child to lead her from the room. It didn't seem plausible that the girl could be one of the Youkai lord's servants; the imps seemed to be quite efficient on their own. Whatever reason it was that made him keep Rin, the Seer was not sure she wanted to know.

 

Together they traversed the long, lonely halls, skirts swishing softly as they walked. There were torches lit everywhere, even though there didn't seem to be any other inhabitants.

 

“Where are we going?” Suiton asked, by this time quite lost in the maze of empty corridors. She pulled her blue robes more tightly around her shoulders; a cold draft pervaded the hall, and it was beginning to seep into her very bones. Rin didn't seem to mind it.

 

“Into the garden,” Rin answered, skipping so that she landed on every other stone in the floor.

 

The Seer paused, frowning.

 

“It's very cold outside,” she pointed out. “I'm not dressed for this.”

 

Unexpectedly, Rin's eyes lit up.

 

“I know!” she exclaimed, grabbing Suiton's hand. “Let's go find you something warmer in the silk room!”

 

“The `silk room'?” the Seer asked somewhat doubtfully as the girl pulled her down the hall with renewed zeal.

 

“I found it all by myself,” Rin explained. “There are lots of clothes there. Most of them do not fit me, but you are much bigger.”

 

The “silk room,” as it turned out, contained many items other than silk. Suiton ran wondering hands over them. There were folded silken kimonos, all stacked neatly as if waiting for a crowd of women to pluck them from their shelves. There were sashes dyed the color of flame, and haori hakama embroidered with ornate depictions of white dogs and fluttering red banners, swords and arrows, animals and flowers. Some of the men's clothing she found particularly unusual---many of the robes were lined with what appeared to be predator's fangs sewn onto the fabric.

 

“Here,” Rin said, presenting the Seer with a cloak lined thickly with black fur. “Wear this.”

 

Suiton took it somewhat reluctantly---it was soft and warm, and as she slipped it over her shoulders she felt as if she were putting on a living thing.

 

“These things were theirs, weren't they?” she murmured, glancing about the room. “They belonged to the Inu Youkai. So I shouldn't take them.”

 

Rin tilted her head to one side, considering. She had found an oversized man's haori, and was wearing it like a coat.

 

“But you belong to Lord Sesshoumaru,” she pointed out. “So his things belong to you, do they not? Besides, all of the Inu Youkai are dead except for Lord Sesshoumaru and his brother. No one else will use these things.”

 

Slowly, the Seer nodded, and allowed the girl to lead her from the room. They traversed the hall some more, and then stepped out through a sliding door into the snow-covered garden. Suiton breathed in deeply, enjoying the crisp winter air and the sunlight sparkling on the snow.

 

“Come on,” Rin urged, tugging her onward. “I will show you my special place.” Then she added, as an afterthought, “But we must come back before lunch, or Lord Sesshoumaru will catch us.”

 

At this the Seer's heart plummeted.

 

`What am I doing?' she thought, raising one hand to her mouth. `Why am I staying here? He'll return with the Shikon no Tama, and soon if the girl is to be believed. I should use what time I have to run . . .'

 

Lowering her hand, she followed Rin out into the garden.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Inuyasha emerged from the Bone-Eaters' Well in Kagome's time with snow still caked in his hair. The night air on the other side was cold but still temperate when compared to the blizzard in the Feudal Era. The sudden contrast in the air sent a convulsive shudder down his back. Kagome was limp as a doll in his arms.

 

He didn't even bother knocking on the Higurashis' front door. Instead he dug the claws of his left hand into it and flung it aside so violently that it was nearly jounced from its hinges. Inside, he was greeted with the much more tranquil sight of Kagome's mother and grandfather seated at the table drinking tea. At the sight of Kagome in such a state clutched in the arms of one snow-encrusted hanyou, Grandpa's jaw dropped. The cookie that Mrs. Higurashi had been holding slipped from between her fingers and landed with a splash in her teacup.

 

“What---?” she exclaimed, horrified. She leaped to her feet instantly.

 

“What did you do to her---bury her in a snow-bank?” Grandpa demanded, advancing on Inuyasha in a fury.

 

“She needs to get warm!” Inuyasha insisted, pushing his way past the both of them and heading for the stairs.

 

“Where are you taking her?” Kagome's mother called, hurrying after him.

 

“Her bed is warm,” Inuyasha answered as he thudded up the stairs, a flurry of snow scattered behind him. “If we put her there she'll get warm.”

 

“Inuyasha, that's not quite enough,” Kagome's mother protested. “She won't warm up quickly that way. We need to get her in a warm bath.”

 

“How does he know her bed is warm?” Grandpa muttered, wheezing as he pursued them.

 

“In here, then,” Inuyasha decided, veering off to the left and skidding to a halt on the bathroom tile.

 

Despite his rather clumsy entrance, he did manage to lay Kagome down gently on the fuzzy bathmat. Kagome's mother caught up with him and started the water running.

 

“So when do we put her in?” Inuyasha asked anxiously, hovering around the girl on the bathmat, over whom Grandpa Higurashi had draped a blanket.

 

“We have to get these clothes off her,” Mrs. Higurashi remarked. “They're caked with ice.”

 

“That's your cue to leave her to us,” Grandpa added, bending to assist his daughter.

 

Inuyasha turned very red and hastened out the door. Grandpa kicked it shut behind him. Such was the hanyou's haste in exiting the bathroom that he almost fell over Souta, who was standing just outside holding Buyo the cat and looking very frightened.

 

“Is Kagome okay?” he wanted to know. “She won't die, will she?”

 

Inuyasha folded his arms into his sleeves.

 

“Of course not,” he replied loftily. “I saved her. She'll be okay in the warm bath.”

 

But Souta's lower lip was quivering. Inuyasha scowled---dealing with tears wasn't one of his strong points.

 

“I'll sleep in your room again,” he announced.

 

“Really?” Souta managed a watery smile, clutching Buyo to him so tightly that the cat began to squirm. “Okay.”

 

Inuyasha followed him back down the hall.

 

“So, uh, your room is near the other bathroom upstairs, right?” he asked casually.

 

“You're still sick and puking, aren't you?” Souta asked with interest.

 

Choosing to ignore the question, Inuyasha pointed to Buyo.

 

“I'll keep you company on one condition: that goes outside.”

 

He and Buyo still had issues.

 

Souta dropped the cat, which immediately scampered away, hissing as it passed Inuyasha and taking a brief swipe at Inuyasha's foot with its claws.

 

“Fucking cat must have demon ancestry,” Inuyasha grumbled.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

For a while Suiton's resolve wavered. As Rin led her through the maze of garden paths, showing her interesting statues and trees, the woman did not think she could bear to simply leave the child without explanation. Her conscience balked at this and conjured up the vision of Rin trying to chase after her, wailing for her to come back.

 

Being a Seer could be burdensome at times.

 

But then nature intervened. As the morning progressed and noon approached, the snowfall had thickened dramatically.

 

`It would be easy,' Suiton rationalized, `to appear to get lost. She knows her way back to the palace even though I don't. This way, if the demon lord finds me I will have an excuse . . .' And she began looking for opportunities.

 

Suiton's toes were completely numb by this time, though Rin didn't seem to mind the cold at all. The little girl skipped here and there, her attention alighting on objects of wonderment at every turn. The numbness was making the Seer clumsy and somewhat unsteady on her feet.

 

`I'd better do it soon,' she thought, `before stealth is entirely out of the question.'

 

“I will show you my special place,” Rin announced with a winsome (if gap-toothed) smile. “It is just beyond those trees over there.”

 

The Seer's heel slid in the snow as she made to follow Rin, and she stumbled a bit. Then she looked up, and her head reeled. For a brief moment, it seemed her heart stopped. Then she understood.

 

She had hesitated too long.

 

There would be no running now.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

Sesshoumaru stood quietly, as if the icy winter air had frozen him into a column of marble. One white sleeve was still stained with Hakudoushi's blood. At his side, in a pouch fastened to the sword-belt from which Tenseiga and Tokijin hung, he felt the Shikon no Tama begin to pulse. Before him, the Seer stood utterly still as well, as if his presence had cemented her in place. He hesitated, because her scent was commingled with that of the black fur cloak she wore. Seeing her standing thus---face averted and shielded behind a curtain of black hair; body swathed in the long, formless cloak---he saw a memory that he did not care to see.

 

Then she turned, and the spell was broken. Her face was very pale---but a few shades darker than the snow---and her dark eyes were long and slanted. But he avoided looking her in the eye, instead resting his gaze somewhere over her left shoulder. He did not want the memory to overwhelm him.

 

`Is this why she wears the veil?' he wondered detachedly. `Does her very face work a curse?'

 

The Seer's gaze was wide-eyed and frightened. Sensing that something was amiss, Rin ran over and caught hold of the woman's cold hand in her small, warm one.

 

“Lord Sesshoumaru, you have returned!” the little girl chirped, smiling a little uncertainly.

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed.

 

“Step away from her, Rin,” he said softly. “She is here only to do my bidding, and now I have come for her. Go back to your chambers.” But he also thought, `Interesting . . . Rin can touch the woman and remain untroubled.'

 

Rin obediently backed away, but she hesitated to leave.

 

“Please do not be angry with Suiton,” she pleaded. “It was Rin who brought her out here.”

 

“Go,” Sesshoumaru repeated without looking at the girl.

 

This time Rin obeyed, scampering off toward the palace.

 

Then, before the Seer had time to react, Sesshoumaru grasped hold of her arm and pulled her along with him toward the northern wing of the palace. Very much afraid now, she clawed at his wrist with her free hand; even tried to work her magic on him, but his mind was too focused on the present to be swayed by her gift. He paid her frantic attempts to free herself less heed than the twigs that snapped beneath his feet as they went.

 

By the time they had reached the Seer's chamber, the breath was sobbing in her chest. He had forced her along with demon swiftness; now with demon strength he pushed her away from him, toward the scrying bowl.

 

“Please . . .” the Seer pleaded softly, but her hands automatically reached out and took hold of the scrying bowl as if they knew of their own volition that the demon lord would not be swayed.

 

With the air of a woman tying her own noose, she slid the bowl a little ways across the stone floor, so that it lay between them. The water sloshed a little, slopping over one side because her hands trembled.

 

Slowly, Sesshoumaru reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew the Shikon Jewel. The Seer drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. At her sides, her hands clenched and unclenched within the black folds of her sleeves. Deftly, Sesshoumaru knelt before the scrying bowl, raising the jewel into plain view, where it glimmered despite the dim winter light.

 

“Demon lord,” the Seer said softly, “if you give me the Sacred Jewel, then what I have Seen will come to pass. I warned you before; I am warning you now. I have Seen the black eye open, and the skies rain fire.”

 

Sesshoumaru's expression remained cold and resolute.

 

“Take the Jewel,” he ordered impassively, “and give me my answer.”

 

“Do you know, demon lord, that there is a curse upon the scrying bowl?” she asked. Though she did not move to take the jewel, her eyes were fixated upon it.

 

Sesshoumaru's expression darkened and he did not reply. The Seer did not seem to notice; she spoke in a low voice, as if she were already in a trance.

 

“Men turn to Seers because they have neither the wisdom to let the past lie nor the courage to shape their own future. Noble men turned to me---men of compassion; men of honor; warriors and kings. They chained me to a Temple throne and worshipped me with their desperation. And when I ran, they hobbled me that I might run no more. And when I tried to crawl beyond the Temple walls, dragging my broken body with me, they sent warriors to guard my prison. And then you came, and took what you wanted. And what you take will destroy you, even as theirs will destroy them.”

 

Sesshoumaru, whose patience had already reached its limit (a very short trip), began to call upon the magic that bound the Tatesei to his will. It uncoiled like a serpent stirring, raising its head and sliding sinuously toward the kneeling woman in a thin line of shadow. Still the Seer did not reach for the Jewel.

 

“The curse of the scrying bowl, demon lord, is obsession,” she whispered. “Because you do not believe the disaster I have foreseen, you will awaken it blindly.”

 

The shadow passed through her breast and disappeared.

 

“Take the Shikon no Tama,” Sesshoumaru said sharply, as if she had not spoken at all.

 

With her left hand she reached out and covered the jewel in his palm with her own small hand. Her skin was hot now---feverishly so. She did not take her eyes off the Jewel.

 

“There is no need to force me,” the Seer said softly, “for now that the Sacred Jewel is so close I am drawn to it as surely as a moth to flame.”

 

Her fingers closed around it convulsively, and she took it from him. Then she passed it into her right hand and let it fall into the bowl. Ripples spread outward from it in perfect rings as it sank to the bottom; the jewel was a glowing pearl settling into an ebony chalice. Seer and Inu Youkai leaned closer, bending their heads so close that they nearly touched.

 

Light swirled in the water, following the current of the rings until, upon reaching the center of the spiral, it spread outward until the bowl was filled with brightness. Sesshoumaru squinted, trying to see past this sudden brilliance, but even his demon eyes were not keen enough. Images flashed out at him: his own face, younger and full of anger; a river of fire twisting sinuously down a mountain; a sword-blade, flashing in the sun; a child standing on the edge of a ravine, bleeding and defiant . . . Bombarded by these strange sights---some of which were achingly familiar---Sesshoumaru was finally forced to avert his gaze, fearing that he might go blind---or mad.

 

In glancing up, he found himself eye-to-eye with the Seer. There was accusation in her stare, but Sesshoumaru was beginning to sense that she was no longer herself. He had never seen the gift take hold of her this strongly.

 

“Remember, Lord, you chose this,” she whispered. “You brought me the Jewel, and the choice was no longer mine. What you reap now . . . are the fruits of your endeavors.”

 

Then her eyes were flooded with darkness, and the scrying bowl was filled with fire.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

The Present Era

 

Kagome sat up in bed with a start, shuddering.

 

“What . . . ?” she asked without knowing why, eyes darting nervously around the peaceful darkness of her room.

 

For a moment her disorientation terrified her, but then things spun into focus and she remembered what had happened and how she had gotten here. She was tired but no longer freezing; the warm bath and sleep beneath piles of blankets had helped immensely.

 

Yet Kagome clutched her shoulders, shivering as if from bitter cold.

 

`No, not cold,' she thought. `Fear . . .'

 

“Hey, you okay?”

 

Inuyasha's head popped up over the railing at the foot of the bed. He was sitting on a sleeping bag that he had dragged in from Souta's room---sleeping in there had not worked out because as it turned out Souta's room wasn't near the other upstairs bathroom, and Inuyasha hadn't been able to keep down the soba Mrs. Higurashi had fed him before bed. The sleeping bag underneath him was rumpled but unused; restless and worried about Kagome, Inuyasha had been unable to sleep and instead spent the night sitting cross-legged atop the sleeping bag and twitching occasionally.

 

“Inuyasha,” Kagome breathed, very much relieved to see his face. “I'm glad you're with me.”

 

Inuyasha was too concerned to blush at this, and with one bounding leap he was crouched on the bed in front of her.

 

“What is it?” he asked, prying one of her hands off her shoulder and feeling it to reassure himself that she was warm now. “Did you have a weird dream again?”

 

“No,” Kagome answered, shaking her head. “Not this time. What I saw . . . I think it's happening right now.” She looked up at the hanyou worriedly. “I think we have to go back now. Whatever this is, it's in Reiyama. We have to stop it from happening before it's too late.”

 

Inuyasha eyed her gravely for a moment, then nodded slowly.

 

“Get your stuff,” he told her. “Get warmer clothes this time. If we're going to head for Reiyama, we've got a long journey ahead of us.”

 

While Kagome slid out of bed and set about the task of packing again, it occurred to Inuyasha that he ought to let Kagome's family know that they were leaving. Then it occurred to him that her family might not let her leave given that she was still recovering from being dunked in a frozen river. Then it occurred to him that since he was going to take her with him anyway he'd better leave a note.

 

“We should leave a note,” he told Kagome.

 

“Right,” she responded, fishing pen and paper out of her desk drawer. “But what should I tell them about---?”

 

“Never mind that,” Inuyasha interrupted, snatching pen and paper from her grasp. “Hurry up and finish packing before the fucking cat wakes up and decides to come after me.”

 

Kagome eyed him curiously.

 

“I didn't know you could read and write.”

 

Inuyasha stared back, on eye beginning to twitch.

 

“Of course I can! My mother taught me how.”

 

Somewhat doubtfully, Kagome returned to her packing while Inuyasha scrawled out a message. Then he and Kagome were off, bounding out the open window and heading for the Well.

 

On Kagome's desk, the note said in kanji:

 

“We will go back to my time now. Kagome will be back soon (word “if” crossed out) when we kill the (word “bastards” crossed out) enemy. Do not worry; I will protect us all.”

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

The Feudal Era

 

In the depths of the scrying bowl, Sesshoumaru and the Seer saw the obsidian eye open as the massive head lifted. Its scales shone like mirrors, reflecting the fire and stone that surrounded it.

 

`I see it,' Sesshoumaru thought wonderingly. `What is this, and why can I see it as well as she does? Is her power that interconnected with the Sacred Jewel's?'

 

Then the dragon raised its head and fix its flinty gaze upon them. In that briefest of instants, Sesshoumaru felt as if he were drowning in blackness deeper than the earth itself. All thoughts of what he had asked of the Seer fled, leaving him empty and naked beneath the dragon's watch. He felt its heat surround him, lifting robes and fanning his hair out around him. The dragon's presence was like a rush of desert wind; he had never sensed such immense power before. It was the power of a god.

 

And he wanted it.

 

But the dragon's eyes upon him were filled with malice. This being hated him; hated him with the intensity of an old enemy who knew him well, even though he had never met such a creature in his life.

 

“What are you?” he found himself whispering beneath the roaring of the flames. “What is this power?”

 

“No,” the Seer whispered, but neither demon nor dragon would heed her.

 

Sesshoumaru felt tides stronger than the force of will sweeping him into the fire. He sensed that something great awaited him there, if he but had the desire to reach out and take it. The dragon's power was terrible . . . greater than any force wielded by Tenseiga or Tetsusaiga . . .

 

The dragon, too, was bound to him, and because of this it hated him.

 

The serpent coiled in the demon lord's breast---that which bound the Tatesei to him---reared its head and struck. Sesshoumaru's hand, which had been reaching toward the vision in the water, landed instead upon the rim of the bowl, upsetting it and knocking it over. Numbness consumed his limbs and he pitched forward onto the stone.

 

The Seer's hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled the scrying bowl out from beneath his arm. Most of the water had spilled out onto the floor. Some of it had soaked into the demon lord's sleeve and spattered across his pale brow; the rest pooled in a depression in the floor. The Shikon no Tama lay in the puddle. The Seer's breath would scarcely move through her chest---her body had gone tense with fear.

 

Yet still she crawled closer to peer into the water where the Jewel lay. In it, in place of the brown stone beneath, she saw the dragon turn its head away. The vision followed its gaze, moving swiftly down the side of the mountain to the city below. A shadow moved with it, pulsing outward from the dragon's metallic flesh like a black wave. The shadow covered every house; every building of the city. A man stood on the Temple stair, with almond-shaped eyes and a noble, aquiline face. He saw the darkness coming, and spread his arms open wide to receive it. It passed through his body, and when it had gone she saw that his veins now ran with fire, and his eyes were black as the dragon's.

 

As she watched, the shadow moved on to every house, passing through wood and stone and demon bone-pillars as if they were naught but illusions made of air. And in each house, she knew that it passed through each person there, igniting the blood of the Tatesei . . . awakening in them a magic as old as demonkind . . .

 

The man on the stairs turned his face toward her, and when she saw who it was she dashed her hand across the water's surface, sobbing. The vision shattered into fragments and then disappeared, dissolved because she had willed it so.

 

She had Seen enough.

 

And now she was frightened---afraid for herself, and for her people, even though she bore very little love for them. The demon lord lying motionless at her side had brought her the Jewel, and now the creature in the mountain was awake. She did not know what it would do. It had awakened to find the people who bore its blood ruled by the son of its demon enemies. There was no fathoming the rage of such a creature over this strange twist of fate.

 

“What have we done?” the Seer whispered. But the vision was gone, and the white demon lay as one dead, his hair and robes draped over his tall body like a shroud.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

In the still quiet of the palace, Asano awoke from a fitful slumber. He sat up in his bed, the covers slipping down over his chest. His breath was heavy, as if he had just run a great distance, and cold sweat was beaded on his forehead. Frowning, he felt at his bare chest with both hands, where he had dreamed the shadow passed. It had been so vivid, and now he felt . . . changed.

 

As if there were now something inside him that had not been present before.

 

For a brief moment he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. All that came to him was a flash of flame, and then darkness. The vision would not return.

 

With a sigh, he glanced down to his left. At his side, his wife stirred, grimacing as if in the throes of a nightmare. Asano brushed his fingers across her forehead, smoothing her hair away from her brow. He was surprised to see that his hands were not shaking. In fact, despite the strangeness of what he had dreamed, he was not shaking at all.

 

In fact . . . he felt stronger than he had ever felt before . . .

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

In the peaceful confines of Kaede's hut, Sango awoke with a gasp from what had been a deep, exhausted slumber. She sat up, clutching the blankets to her chin, eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the fear she felt.

 

But there was nothing. Nearby, Miroku slumbered happily, one of his fingers clutching at the cushion beneath his head.

 

`Probably thinking about my rear,' Sango thought with fond irritation.

 

Reassured by the monk's presence, she lay back down and forgot what it was that she'd dreamed.

 

{+} {+} {+}

 

The Seer crept away from the water on the floor on her hands and knees, weak with fear and exhausted but wanting to put distance between herself and the Jewel in the puddle. She didn't know what she could do to right this wrong. She wasn't even sure she could stop this fire, now that it had been awakened. She laid a hand on the demon lord's back, pressing a little to feel for breath. To her immense relief, his body still rose and fell beneath her palm; he wasn't dead.

 

Had he been dead, she would not have known whom to turn to. The man on the Temple stair, who had so willingly embraced the shadow and drawn it into himself, was her brother.

 

Now the demon lord was the only one who might be able to stand against the Tatesei and their newly-wakened blood. She knew because he had demonstrated his power to control them before.

 

Though it seemed he remained unaware of her touch, Lord Sesshoumaru's pale lips moved beneath the white curtain of his hair. At first only a breath escaped. Then the Seer bent nearer, and heard what it was that he whispered.

 

“At the dawn of the Greater Youkai,” he murmured, “there were also dragons . . .”

 

{END OF CHAPTER 6}