Mistica Chronicles

Welcome to Issue 47

Kiraatwood Winning Entry

“My story? No one ever wants to know my story…they only come here for quests. But yes, I suppose I could tell you.” Volcan’s head whipped around to face you.
You cowered under him, shocked he was actually talking and not speaking with his eyes. Perhaps he was surprised by this request, maybe even…honored?
You looked into his eyes; they were fierce, distrusting, and cold. No, Volcan did not have the capability of being honored.
“I’ve never told anyone of my past, but…when I was young, I wished to be a fashion designer.” He sounded unsure, looking at me for my reaction...as if he would blow fire on my head if I disapproved.
Shocked, I managed to keep my facial expression blank and nodded for him to continue.
Reassured, he looked off into the distance, absorbing into the old memories. “Well, it was a foolish dream, really…
I always loved clothes. Bright, amazing colors mixing together into endless creations: the shoes, the shirts, the pants, the accessories, and even…dresses, and skirts. Things that flowed in the wind were my favorite. How they would fly up with the air as you spun around in circles!” He giggled, but stopped short and grew serious again. Clearing his throat, he continued.
“But alas. Every time I tried to wear these clothes…they would burn. Burn to horrible black ashes.” Tears formed in his eyes, but he blinked them away. “So I started developing fireproof clothes, ones that I could wear. After a few trials and corrections, I found a wardrobe I could wear.
And that’s when everyone I knew threw me down. They told me, ‘A fashion designer? Really? That is no job for you.’ They forbade me to do it. They threatened me; they said they would disown me. That they would banish me from them. So I gave in and gave up on my dream. My fashion designing career ceased to exist.
Instead, I became a Quest Requester. I asked for items, and gave fair rewards to those who were brave enough to service me. But I could never give in completely. I always request clothing; wonderful, beautiful clothing that I display in my lair, never to wear but to instead gaze at longingly…”
You were completely astonished. Sure, you had always wondered why Volcan would request a Navy Skirt or the Romantic Red Female Wig, but you had never really found a true answer to it until now.
Volcan saw your silence as a sign of disapproval, and he growled viciously, “Get out! You got what you wanted, now leave. Or else face my wrath!”
You’d never think a former fashion designer could sound so threatening, but you didn’t hesitate and sprinted away.
Volcan turned to his pile of clothes, gazing longingly at a Pink Blouse and a pair of Dreamy Silver Contacts.
If only…