I forgot to mention that Dedric's entries will be a two part piece as there is so much going on with him. Other than that, enjoy this first portion of journal entries by Dedric Volkenheim.
I never thought to write about this before. Things at home are getting out of hand, so it’s best to write it out then wallow in it.
I guess I fear that Father will find out and people, my brothers, will get hurt. My magic has never been as apt as my brothers, but I’m confident about this one.
This is a single use spell that will hide these writings until someone I named with my blood finds it. The trick is that the blood has to be given by this person from the same place it was taken from the castor. How the magic knows it’s pulled from the same place I cannot say, but Damon was able to help me out with it. We did an experiment of sorts. I detest deceiving them, but the less they know presently, the safer they are.
It was difficult to even get Damon to help, but we only have these two days whilst Father is away. It needed to be done but I had to be sure it’d work. No point in baring my soul and writing down secrets and revealing lies if no one can find it!
Wow, look at me ramble and I haven’t even introduced myself. You’d think I’d know better being this is my…I forgot how many journals I’ve written. Ah, well. I do it for every journal, best not to give up on the tradition.
My name is Dedric Volkenheim.
I one of a set of quintet brothers. Within our first three years of life, we all showed signs of having rare magical gifts. However, I did not.
This was both a blessing and a curse. Father tended to leave me to my own devices, but when I was five, I discovered my ability. I could detect any deception magical or mundane. This was a rare magic indeed. Father had drilled into us to let him know when a power developed. I didn’t. Why, you ask?
I knew that if I reveled my magic, Father would know his act was up, that I knew of his deception against Dante, Damon, and Dartanian.
I find it ironic, though, that I refrained from mentioning my rare magic as Father beat my constantly for not having a rare magic. Like beating me would somehow produce one. I think his long years of life truly mangled his brain. He is far too power-hungry.
But, it is one thing to ignore Father’s drilling when one has no rare magic, and another when it develops. I was unaware at the time, but Father possess multiple magics, one of which allows him to feel out someone’s magical ability. Hiding my gift from Father was a bad idea. I got punished worse for not telling him and trying to hide it. At the end of that session, I confessed to my magic: Undying Eyes.
The curse of this magic is now I had to watch Father parade around as Damarcus, but not be able to tell anyone. I tried, and it didn’t end well. He hurt my brothers. I couldn’t stand for that, so I remained silent. It didn’t help either that my mind was consistently fuzzy and I felt drained most days. It would be years until I figured out why.
When I was 12, I realized could finally see why Father paraded around as Damarcus. Damarcus was a Seer. A living, breathing, real Seer. As I hadn’t seen the real Damarcus in ages, I hadn’t seen his gift with my own eyes, until Father brought him to me to confirm it. I guess Damarcus was trying to keep his gift from Father as well.
It sucks being such a meek boy. Damarcus and I were the runts of the quintets. I could see my other brothers as much as I liked, so I knew what their powers were as they developed. And it made perfect sense why Father had difficulty keeping them in check. Must’ve been frustrating for him and I reveal in that fact. Our Father was never much of a Father figure, just a bastard out for power.
I wanted to try one more time to get my brothers to group together. Even though the last time didn’t end well and that fear plagued me, I wanted to try. So, I kept hanging around my brothers as much as I could, well the three that were there as Father was keeping Damarcus somewhere. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but the more we hung out, the more confident I felt that a plan would come.
I was surprised that Father allowed us mingling. Though, not surprised for long. Father had his own motive for letting me spend more time with them, and it was only to further drive a wedge between them and Damarcus using me as the catalyst. My only play was to act indifferently toward Damarcus. Father caught on, of course, and started sporadically allowing Damarcus out of his dungeon. I know it was a dungeon because that is what the real Damarcus told us. He was shaking constantly and was always bleeding and bruised. Why those three knuckleheads never believed him was beyond me. Damon was the only one who was starting to see clearer.
You see, it was Damon who asked me about my indifference towards Damarcus most of the time, but then my acceptance of him other times. I wanted to just explain it to them, but Father had ears everywhere. I was never sure where it was safe to talk. The only thing I had said was ‘sometimes I like who he is, but other times he acts like a different person.’ I was hoping that would click in Damon’s head, but it didn’t.
I started poking around our home for the dungeon that Father kept Damarcus in. When I finally found it, and thought I had time to search it, I did find Damarcus. I told him to hang on; that his brothers would save him and the truth would be revealed. Father didn’t like that. Silent as death, he was.
I was beaten savagely for that. In front of Damarcus. Then I was told should I try to get Damarcus out, he’d die. Should I tell my brothers about any of this, Damarcus would die. For good measure, Father beat him within in inch of his life to make his point before administering aid to keep him alive. Once again, my plan had led to someone getting hurt and almost killed at that time. I couldn’t let it happen again.
I couldn’t let Damarcus suffer alone, though. For a few weeks, I tried sneaking back down to the dungeon. I got caught every time. It only served Father’s plan to wedge the brothers further apart. Damarcus, in their eyes, was a heinous villain and Father’s favorite son. They hated him. it broke my heart. Since I couldn’t keep Damarcus company, I tried to focus on finding out why my brain was so muddled most the time. My fasting spurts led me to believe that Father was giving me something, but as I didn’t know what, I couldn’t combat it. So, I went on as long of fasting stretches as I could, but it was never enough to fully give me that clarity I needed. The only clarity I found was that Father couldn’t ever kill Damarcus because he’d lose the Seer gift. I braved the dungeon once more and got my confirmation from Damarcus himself. He told me to save myself. Run away with the others. I couldn’t do that, but with my mind so fogged I couldn’t formulate a concrete plan either. Not to mention that the brothers were at odds.
Ha, I just realized that the one reading this is probably boggled at how I’m writing with such clarity. I’m able to do simple things, like charm writing utensils. Having a clear mind, while amazing, has me in a more weakened state than normal. So, during the fog stages, I charm items to help do my bidding during my moments of clarity, which vary you see. Sometimes a few hours, sometimes days. Depends on how close an eye Father was keeping on me.
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