Paws Stained with Soot and Shadow
“As you say. Ivan will crush wizard.”
The words tumbled out of his mouth so easily. It was effortless, a mindless reaction. Ivan stared the wizard down. What a puny thing it was. Human, like Rasputin, but so much weaker. Surely, this fight will be easy.
Ivan saw the wizard gather its little spell-cards. Tch, of course the wizard would fight with cards and not bulk. It was no strongman like Ivan. It was weakman. While it prepared its little deck, Ivan shouted for some extra hands. Just to ensure he could overwhelm the wizard. A handful of Pit Fiends came to his side.
Ivan felt his soul burn with rage. His fists shook. He could feel his own muscles curl and tighten, one after the other, almost like a machine. It was so easy to get mad. Nobody could judge him for his fury and get away alive. He could fight. He could destroy. This purpose made his soul burn brighter. Bright enough for actual flames to spark and lick at his fur.
Rasputin had given Ivan magic fire. How considerate.
Spells came to him as naturally as his rage. His fury burns, let it burn the wizard!
Ivan saw shadows curling around the wizard’s feet. Ivan was not one to be outdone by a puny little wizard! His magic burned so hot it felt cold, so bright that the rest of the mines fell dark. Yes, Ivan could feel the magic in him.
The shadows warped and weakened the world around him. Ivan was stronger than the world. He was stronger than the Spiral! He was stronger than the wizard’s light little magic! He was the muscle, the fire, the shadow that would tear the Spiral apart! Starting with this wizard, and this worthless little spell they cast just now-
The spell crashed onto Ivan. It knocked him out of the duel circle the Wizard put up. He crashed into the fence. His head hurt. His vision swam. He blinked a few times.
By the time his vision cleared, the Wizard was already standing by him, trying to pull him up. He was confused. “What... happened?” His voice felt rough, like all the moisture in his body boiled away. “Ivan dreamed that Rasputin was his master, and...” He looked down at his paws. They were dirty, stained black. Dust from the mine? He tried to brush it off slowly. It felt not like dust, but soot. And his paws stayed stained. The flames, and the darkness, that magic was real. Everything he did in that dream... was real. “What has Ivan done?”
The Wizard tried to say something, but Ivan’s guilt roared in his ears like the flames he’d wielded only a few moments ago. “Ivan ruined everything. Just like before. Pingouins of Urville Station are right. Ivan is monster. He deserves to be called Ivan the Terrible.”
He barely heard the argument the two Pingouins from Urville were having. They went into the mine elevator and up to the town.
Ivan couldn’t bring himself to move.
He felt the Wizard’s hands in his paws. They looked up at him. Ivan recognized something in the Wizard’s gaze. Kinship. Empathy. They knew what it was like to be used. A destructive tool for someone else’s goals.
“We can stay down here as long as you need,” the Wizard said.
Ivan pulled the Wizard into a hug. He felt bad for getting more ash and dirt and darkness onto their robes (didn’t his spells already do enough?), but... they made no comment about it.
Ivan appreciated the quiet.
