Ch4.22 Fatal Prophecy

Dion moves swiftly now down the hallway to the adjoining Annex building, his mind still churning from the conversation.
Why? He struggles internally crossing the connecting breezeway. What possible reason would cause the Council to have such a hateful interest in these creatures?
Passing quickly through the bar area, the god is relieved that the Bunnies are nowhere to be seen. He has no desire to be engaged in an unpleasant conversation at this point.
His face locked in place, he opens the portal to his home and immediately spots Geryon waiting inside. Two steps past the doorway and their eyes meet. The long, close relationship between the two allows for all the communication to pass between them that the gryphon needs to gain comprehension. Rising from the bed, he quickly morphs to his full form.
“I cannot believe it,” Geryon states while shaking his feathery head. “Do you know why?”
“No, but we’re about to go find out,” Dion states flatly as he grabs a small travel bag and begins placing some items in it.
“And where are we going?” Geryon asks, but mainly for confirmation as he already suspects.
“My uncle’s estate,” Dion responds, an economy of words now his method as his mind still storms.
Geryon circles between Dion and his bag, forcing the god to halt and look directly at his eagle-shaped head.
“Dion, you need to think this over for a moment. The Council has spoken. I completely agree that it makes no sense for the most powerful gods in the isle to have a vendetta against these creatures, but there must be a reason. It is the Council, after all.”
The god of magic steps back, his eyes flashing. “Geryon, I’ve come to the realization that maybe the Council isn’t so wise after all. That maybe there is something terribly wrong with them. These are peaceful, loving creatures. You’ve met two of them. I’ve met them all. There is nothing in them that should cause the Council to react so negatively.”
“They are a created life-form,” Geryon argues. “The prohibition against that—“
“Are not you?” Dion asks, cutting off his friend. “Did I not create you? Are you not artificial?”
“Hear now, you are comparing rain to sunshine! I existed before then…”
“Is that the test then, Geryon?” Dion asks, his normally even tone rising slightly.  “Are these creatures any less of a creation than you or I just because they came to being by the hands of life-giving magic rather than life-creating biology?”
Turning to his desk, the god of magic grabs the report and other notes, returning to his travel bag and placing them in. “Do they feel any less real to you? Do they not laugh, cry, fear, tire, just like us? Who is to say that they are any less of a creation than any of the Council members themselves, some of which may be hard-pressed to define their own legalistic beginnings?
“No, Geryon,” Dion says with finality. “Something else is wrong here, and my uncle’s truncated note and hint of a plan is insufficient answer. I am returning to get the real answer and his help in overturning the decision. I cannot require you to accompany me, but will ask for your companionship in my trip.”
Geryon rolls his eyes upwards exhaling deeply once in resignation. “You know, it would be much easier to stay out of the way, let this blow over, and then sneak back home to spend time with the lovely ladies again.” Seeing the sharpness of Dion’s look, Geryon sighs in resignation. “No, of course not.”
Heading towards the portal, Geryon continues. “I have heard of this tale, once, where a madman decided to attack windmills with a wooden lance while riding a horse because he thought the windmills to be monsters. Could never destroy them, really, not with a lance at least, but he did try it anyway.”
Looking over his tan-furred shoulders and watching Dion seal the pocket universe, Geryon adds, “I guess we should stop at a lance merchant’s place on the way.”
And the two figures exit towards Little Falls and its transfer portal.

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