Veil of Inheritance

Frosty’s Return

Lucas had resigned himself to another strained evening under the Sinclair roof, the tension a constant, suffocating presence. He knew he had to maintain his human facade, but the constant barbs were wearing thin.

At that moment, Eleanor stumbled, her foot catching on an unseen rug, and a loud thud echoed as she let out a sharp, piercing shriek that cut through the tense air. Just then, Elle entered the living room, her eyes widening at the sight of her mother sprawled on the floor, a picture of indignant disarray amidst the opulent furniture. Elle gasped, rushing to Eleanor’s side. "Mom! What happened? Are you okay?" Her gaze flickered to Lucas, who stood calmly nearby, having seen the incident clearly.

Eleanor, slowly collecting herself, gave Lucas a venomous side-eye. "He startled me," she accused, her voice trembling slightly, though her mind was already calculating. "Something about him just... puts me on edge. So clumsy." Since Lucas had refused the money and the divorce, she needed another angle, one that painted him as a menace.

Lucas started to speak, "But I—"

Eleanor cut him off, her voice rising. "He must have spilled something! There was a wet patch right there, I swear! A truly thoughtless oaf!"

"But I just arrived from the hospital," Lucas countered smoothly, letting the word "hospital" hang pointedly in the air. He watched for the slight flinch in her eyes, the familiar guilt she always tried to bury.

Eleanor's face darkened further, her facade cracking into true fury. "There he goes again!" she fumed. "Do you plan on begging us for money again?! After everything we did for you, you disgraced us by begging in public, you lowlife!"

Elle immediately stepped between them, her own frustration mounting. "Mom, that's enough! Lucas isn't begging. He was in the hospital. What he did was not—" Her voice trailed off as Eleanor's gaze sharpened on her.

Eleanor turned her fury on Elle, her voice dripping with manipulative sweetness before turning sharp. "My daughter, you are so beautiful that every man in Spring Town compliments your beauty! Most of them would give up so much for your sake. I mean real men! Look at Lucas; he’s not even on the same standard as you. What does he do? Earn twenty-five dollars an hour on delivery? How would that ever provide for you and give you the better life you deserve?"

Just then, Frederick walked in, a smirk spreading across his face as he surveyed the scene, then let out a slow, deliberate chuckle. Lucas’s jaw tightened. He remembered the harsh reality of why he hadn't found a decent job after Elle’s father died. The Sinclair family, fueled by their disdain, had subtly used their immense influence, ensuring Lucas was sacked on the first day of every new job he landed. That was why he’d been forced into the delivery work, a cruel reminder of their pervasive power over his mortal life. The anger in him, normally suppressed, threatened to surge.

He took a slow, calming breath, the emerald glow on his forehead pulsing faintly, unseen by the Sinclairs. Lucas looked at Frederick, then at Eleanor, still half-sprawled, and finally at Elle, her shoulders slumped, caught helplessly between them. He felt a profound sense of detachment from their petty squabbles, yet a fierce protective instinct for Elle remained, warring with his greater purpose. He knew his true path lay in mastering his own powers. His challenge was far greater than their insults. He had to act, and soon, both in the human world to maintain his disguise, and in the Dragon Kingdom to prevent utter chaos.

As Frederick began to laugh louder, Lucas looked away from the Sinclairs, his gaze drawn to a faint shimmer in the air near the grand fireplace. It was a ripple, a subtle distortion in reality itself, one that only his heightened dragon senses could perceive. Within the shimmer, a shadowy form seemed to coalesce, thin as mist, yet undeniably present. It pulsed with a cold, ancient energy, a familiar power he’d felt when he was with the Priest. Then, a small creature, resembling a puppy, solidified at its side and began to dance, tiny paws wiggling. "Ohh! It followed me here!" Lucas murmured, a genuine surprise in his voice, his focus completely shifted from the Sinclairs.

This 'puppy' was Frosty, a creature of immense power. Frosty was a dinosaur, capable of transforming into this deceptively cute canine form, and a loyal servant in the Dragon Palace who had loved the Priest deeply. When the Priest died, Frosty had vanished without a trace, and no one had been able to locate the creature since. Its aura, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in the very air around it, hinted at a raw strength that, in the Dragon Kingdom, was legendary—whispers spoke of its ability to level mountains, not just defeat dragons. The Priest himself had been the only one capable of harnessing its true might. Frosty looked so undeniably cute that when Elle noticed it, her expression softened, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, despite her natural dislike for dogs as pets. She even took a hesitant step forward.

Frederick, still chuckling, spotted the small creature. "How did a dog get in here?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Lucas's unusually genuine expression looking towards the puppy. He remembered the puppy wasn’t there just moments ago. "Lucas, you haven't even taken care of yourself, and you want to feed a dog?" Frederick sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Such insolence!"

Lucas simply walked over, gently scooped Frosty from the floor, the creature nuzzling into his hand, and headed towards his room. He glanced back at the disarray—the fuming Eleanor, the sneering Frederick, and the conflicted Elle—and murmured, "I’ll try my best." The words were for them, yet held a double meaning, a silent promise to himself and to his true, unseen kingdom.

As Lucas closed the door to his room, Frosty looked up at him, its puppy eyes holding an ancient, knowing depth that belied its innocent form. The air around the puppy briefly shimmered with a faint, almost imperceptible silver light, reflecting the cold, shadowy presence Lucas had sensed by the fireplace. Frosty’s sudden return, and its seemingly impossible appearance in the human world, was a profound mystery, a powerful variable in Lucas’s already complicated existence.