This story is probably going to get the most cosmetic reworks after the Queen's Heir did, but this one has more plot effects than that one did haha. Fun fact for the eventual trivia game that someone is hopefully making (I would but I'm too busy/lazy): this chapter originally came out around Christmastime and would've been updated over the course of three full months had I not wanted to finish the story on Valentine's Day.
Chapter One
Future Sight
The Catacombs of Paris. Back in the eighteenth century, when Paris had been rife with plague outbreaks and overflowing graves, the people decided to move the bodies down to the abandoned limestone mines as a way to clean the city. Early in the nineteenth century, they became a tourist attraction. But Parisians only ever saw a small portion of the famous Catacombs. The rest were blocked off, restricted by the government as a means of protecting citizen welfare. Little did almost anyone in Paris know, the tombs buried secrets from the past. Relics from bygone eras.
Relics a certain foreign supervillain had learned about, and those relics were the exact reason Dragonus moved through the bone-laden tunnels, as they could ensure his victory.
The draconian villain's boots made little sound against the floor as he descended into the part of the Catacombs he knew were never mapped and never would be mapped. The musty scent of the place filled his nose, intermingling with the scents of death, rot, and power. Dragonus sneezed once; he knew he should have put the filter on his helmet. He had an allergy to pollen and other similar particles, and for some odd reason he could never quite understand, that included perfumes and sprays. They irritated his nasal pathways and made him sneeze. Luckily, it was only a light allergy that didn't cause other problems. Otherwise he wouldn't be spending a chunk of the night underground where he couldn't fly and could barely see. It was only because of the rewards that he even considered the plan.
"And we're sure the items are down here?" Dragonus asked Vorath. The kwami's consciousness stirred inside Dragonus's own mind. "Uh-huh," Vorath replied. "Deeper, though. We need to go deeper."
Dragonus growled in discomfort. He had hated small spaces since he was little, when he got stuck in a playplace and had to be rescued. Begrudgingly, he lit a flame in his left hand and pressed on. The skeletons on the walls didn't bother him much, even if the empty sockets seemed to follow his movements in the flickering light of his fire. The Dark Dragon Miraculous - his Miraculous - had the ultimate ability to resurrect whatever he desired, but only once a year and if he had the proper incantation and powers of creation and destruction.
Which was why he needed to get the Dark Box and Dark Grimoire from the Guardians' temple. His plans required that spellbook, and the thought of extra Dark Miraculouses was also quite appealing. And of course, he promised Vorath he would free the others. No matter what he was, hero or villain, Goldenwing or Dragonus, Andrew always kept his promises to those he cared about.
"Okay, boss," Vorath said in his mind. "The stuff's directly below us, but be careful. You might accidentally crush them if you punch right through the rock." Dragonus scoffed. "I know my own power levels, Vorath," he replied as he pressed a hand on the floor. Calling on the earth power he absorbed - was it only a few months ago? It felt like so much longer - Dragonus opened a decent sized hole. The tunnels were too narrow for him to spread his wings and fly, so he took a rope he brought and dropped the end into the hole. Then he climbed down into a huge chamber.
The chamber would have been beautiful if not for the grotesque imagery painted in faint colors on the walls. Dragonus's skin crawled as the images flickered in his firelight. Ignoring the images, he continued to climb down, the chamber still too small for him to fly. At last, he touched the ground, sending up small clouds of dust. Another sneeze built in the back of his throat, but he forced it down. No point in alerting whatever primitive - or highly advanced - security system to the fact he was here.
Dragonus increased the light of his fire, lighting the room more, the frescoes being picked out in every gruesome detail. If Dragonus's research was correct, all of these scenes had happened, exactly as they had been painted, maybe centuries before. He looked around more, searching for any booby traps or indicators of booby traps. Still wary of his surroundings, he turned to what he thought was the north wall of the chamber. A dark smile grew across his face as he saw the objects he wanted.
A scepter and book rested on a small column, waiting for someone to claim them. The book had a worn leather cover, the symbol for the Order of the Guardians stitched on the front. The scepter was pure gold, a red gem inset on the top. Dragonus's grin grew. His research had taught him that it was no scepter for a king, it was more. So much more. A moment of hubris overtook him, victory nearly at hand, and he reached for the items after extinguishing the fire.
"Boss," Vorath warned. "The book and scepter are the one things you didn't check for booby-" he was cut off by the sound of something being drawn in a hidden alcove.
"Traps." An arrow fired towards Dragonus, who drew his sword and slashed the projectile out of the air. Another fired, and then another, and then another. Dragonus continued cutting them out of the air, knowing the arrowheads were likely poisoned or something similar. One escaped his sword's arc, hitting him in the back and bouncing off. Dragonus just felt the jab as the arrow failed to penetrate his suit. He laughed, amused by the booby traps that had failed to account for Miraculous wielders.
"It doesn't matter. I've got them. Let's go," he replied. Quickly, he climbed up the rope and back into the Catacombs, sealing the hole he had made to get in. A few minutes later, after racing through the tunnels, Dragonus exited the Catacombs and rocketed himself into the air, glad to be free from the crushing restraint of the underground.
"Vorath," he said. His kwami's consciousness stirred. "Yeah?" he asked.
Dragonus chuckled humorlessly. "I think I've developed proper claustrophobia."
Vorath snorted. "All of my Dark Dragons get like that from time to time. You'll realize you're perfectly fine." Dragonus rolled his eyes, but he knew Vorath was right. He felt fine as he landed in his bedroom. After quickly checking for any arrowheads that might have gotten lodged in his scales, he transformed back into his civilian self and laid the two artifacts on his desk, which had the computer setup pushed back as far as it could go.
"We'll study them tomorrow, boss," Vorath said as he yawned. Andrew nodded. "Yeah, it probably is a good idea to get some sleep. I've been planning too late." Quickly, he changed and flopped into bed, falling asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.
"You have no control!" the cherry red kwami yelled at the golden draconian one. Vorath wasn't entirely sure at the time why Tikki was yelling at him. He hadn't done anything wrong… had he? Vorath searched his memories. He did have some wielders who used his power for personal gain, but what of it? It was just human nature. Some were good, some were bad, some were generous, some were greedy. "It isn't my fault!" Vorath replied.
He could see that Tikki was beginning to get frustrated. "Yes, it is! You're supposed to tell your wielders to use your powers for good, and at least attempt to inhibit them if they don't! You and your cronies have that power!" Something snapped in Vorath. "They're not cronies! They're my friends, my family, and they treat everyone fairly. Which is more than I can say for the others."
"You let your wielders be monsters!" Tikki yelled. "You're a monster!" The breath shot out of Vorath as the statement hit him like a punch to the gut. The one who gave him form, who created his concept, the one he loved like a sister, called him a monster. Tikki realized what she had said and attempted to apologize, but Vorath snarled at her. The damage had been done.
"I'd rather you call me a monster than I call you a sister," he said, tears of anger dripping down his face. "The Order will burn for what you said." He flew away from the temple, to where a younger man had made camp with his cohorts, all of them with the Miraculouses of Vorath's Box. He floated up to his wielder, his own orange eyes meeting up with his wielder's dark brown. Vorath told them all what happened, and everyone agreed it was terrible and the Order should suffer.
Two hours later, the fight was over and the past Dragonus fled the fight, all of his comrades imprisoned and the now-Dark Miraculous Box being locked away. When Dragonus was sure they were far enough away from the Temple, he transformed back into his civilian form. Andrew Hendrol's ancestor, Arcturus Hendrol, gave Vorath a piece of salted meat.
"I am sorry, my friends," Arcturus said solemnly to the distance, then turned back to his kwami. "And I am sorry for you, my friend." Vorath sniffled.
"I don't have anywhere to go now," he said. Arcturus shook his head. "You will live with me and my descendants, and I swear on my family's name, we will keep you safe." Vorath beamed and gave Arcturus a hug. "And I swear my loyalty to you and your descendants, now and forever."
Arcturus smiled. "Come now. We have a long journey ahead of us." He transformed, and Dragonus flew west, towards Europe.
Vorath woke up from his dream, his eyes a little wet from crying. Everything had changed that day, and now, everything else could change. He looked around, and saw Arcturus's descendant, Andrew, looking over the scepter and book they had claimed last night. Vorath sighed. Andrew was so much like his ancestor: powerful, intelligent, cunning, loving, loyal.
"Ah, Vorath," Andrew said. "Good morning. Come here, I want to show you something." Vorath yawned and floated over. "What is it?" he asked. Andrew had opened a translation program on his computer and was holding the scepter. A triumphant smirk was on his face. "I woke up a little while ago and started trying to figure out the symbols on the scepter. I had realized that it wasn't made by the Order; the design is far more western inspired than eastern, and it was made with materials not typically found in the east, as well as a touch of western magic." Vorath nodded; the Dark Miraculous ring was almost like a metal detector for powers and magic.
"So, what's so special about it?" Vorath asked. The symbols looked like gibberish to him, as all he could see was a mixture of pictograms and odd letters. Andrew chuckled. "These pictograms are Egyptian-based, Vorath, with just a hint of far-east characters, like from China or Japan. Those actually were the easier ones. The letters were harder, but I managed to crack their code and translate it all into the English alphabet." Vorath was quite interested now. "What does it say?"
"A whole lot of gibberish," Andrew replied discouragingly. "The letters were arranged in a pattern just above where the wielder would grip it. And it all looks good, but now…" He opened the translation program and showed Vorath. The kwami saw the letters in a strange order, almost familiar, but they didn't make words the way he had seen them for the past few centuries… but some of his past knowledge kicked in.
"Try reading them in columns," Vorath suggested. Andrew blinked in disbelief, but checked, and saw that Vorath was right. "You're a genius, buddy!" he exclaimed. Vorath grinned with pride. Andrew read the inscriptions aloud.
"Whosoever finds the Scepter and Oracle will be granted power beyond imagination over the future." The two looked at each other, then the objects on the desk.
"I think we hit the motherload," Vorath whispered. Andrew nodded, and slowly opened the book. And nearly tore it in frustration. "It's blank! All this time, all this research, all this planning, for a blank book!" He slammed his right fist on the desk, and the book pulsed with light, then text, if only for a second.
Andrew's eyes gleamed. "Vorath, Dragon Up!" Quickly transforming, he placed his hand right next to the book. Text flashed into existence, responding to the Dark Dragon Miraculous's power. "This is certainly an interesting development," he mused to himself. Quickly, he skimmed the pages, which were written in the beautifully ornate text of older fables and fairy tales. He read about the beginnings of the Order, the many civilizations protected by Miraculous wearers, their victories and follies. He read of the battle between his ancestor and the past Ladybug, when the rest of the Dark Miraculous were imprisoned. He read of the fall of the Order, the destruction wrought by the sentimonster, and the Order's eventual return.
"Wait a minute," Vorath muttered. "This book was stolen from the Order before any of this happened. I was there. I watched the raiders steal the book and a Miracle Box. One of your predecessors helped recover the box, but the book was never found." Dragonus chuckled. "This book was written by several Miraculous wielders with time powers, Vorath. It helps prevent terrible disasters, but it couldn't all be read at once. A special enchantment was placed on it to only let the text be visible a few hours or so before the event took place." Dragonus skipped to the back end of the book.
"See?" he pointed as new text began to form. "And as the emissaries of Creation and Destruction began the recapture of the wild beasts four and twenty, Destruction fell victim to the claws of the major," Dragonus read aloud. "My guess is some animals are going to break out of the zoo and Cat Noir is going to be pinned by a bear." Vorath snorted. "We'll see," he replied, somewhat impressed with his partner's deduction skills.
"But that's not important, Vorath," Dragonus continued. "We can learn what will happen in the future. We can predict the future!" His mind was making a thousand plans a minute. "We could bet on a winning team for sports events! Get perfect lottery tickets! Stay one step ahead of the heroes at every turn!" He caught his breath. "Vorath, this could be our victory," he whispered.
Vorath tutted. "You know that's not how the future works. What's written is written. You can't change it anymore than you can change your base genetics. Even if you did manage to do something to cause change, the universe would find a way to right itself." Dragonus growled lightly, but sighed.
"You're right," he admitted. "But still. This book will give us an edge in a different way." After infusing a little of his own power into the book to revitalize it and make the text semi-permanent, he transformed back into his civilian self, threw on his hoodie, and Andrew bounded out of his room to meet up with his father for some family time.
Andrew couldn't help but smirk as he watched Cat Noir get pinned under the grizzly bear's paw. About two hours after the Hendrols left for their father-son day, the zoo suffered a technical difficulty and several animal enclosures glitched, releasing the animals within. Twenty-four to be exact.
"Let's hope this doesn't put too much of a damper on today," Everett said. Andrew nodded. "Yeah, Dad. Let's hope it doesn't." Unseen to his father, he opened up his hoodie, and in the inner pocket, he saw Vorath smirk. If the book was right so far, it would be a good idea to consult it before he made any more plans. Another smirk played across his face. If everything went according to the plans he made, he would have the Dark Box and its grimoire, and two Miraculous. Victory never seemed so certain.
This is a pretty tame start, yes, but it is going to get crazier next chapter (which is going to get a better looking rework too). So, does Dragonus have an undeniable advantage for any situation, and how will the heroes defeat an opponent that knows what comes next? As always, stay safe, healthy and don't forget to talk to your family! Cya next week!