Memory Inheritance!

"The more enigmatic the incantation, the more formidable its influence," the old tomes whispered of magic beyond the ken of ordinary minds. Within the pages of arcane knowledge, it was recorded that some spells were so potent, they seemed to possess their own sentient will, demanding caution even from the most skilled of sorcerers.

Those who wielded such dark and powerful magic were often labeled by the common folk as "dark curse masters." Yet, in reality, they were simply mages, distinguished only by the depth of their arcane mastery. The true measure of a spellcaster's might lay in the spells they controlled, the more powerful the spell, the greater the mage.

She stumbled upon the dragon transformation spell in the crumbling ruins of an ancient temple. To her, this spell was a beacon of hope, a vital escape to be called upon only in the direst of circumstances when her very survival hung in the balance.

Initially, she believed the moment to invoke this spell would arise on the day she faced execution. Instead of the gallows, however, destiny brought her an unexpected visitor, a princess.

She would never forget the first words Princess Lucia uttered upon meeting her: "Powerful dark wizard, can you turn me into someone else's nightmare?"

At first, she didn't grasp why Princess Lucia aspired to become a nightmare. She assumed the princess sought to exploit her reputation for nefarious ends, perhaps to carry out unspeakable deeds that shunned the light of day.

Freed from her cell by royal hands, she seized the unexpected opportunity. "Yes," she affirmed to the princess, "I can indeed transform you into the nightmare of another."

That very evening, secluded in the royal chambers, Princess Lucia queried about the mechanics of becoming a nightmare. "Whom do you wish to haunt?" she inquired.

Princess Lucia seemed taken aback, hastily clarifying with a flurry of hand gestures that her intentions were far from lethal. She merely wished to infiltrate her sister Athena's dreams, to frighten, not to harm.

It was then that she understood: Princess Lucia didn't wish to be a nightmare for the masses, but rather, to be a personal nightmare for her sister Athena alone.

As time passed in the company of Princess Lucia, she began to see that the princess was not the scheming type. Instead, Lucia appeared somewhat naive, endearingly foolish, and disarmingly charming. Her ease with a dark wizard like herself was unexpected; Lucia didn't seem to harbor any reservations or suspicions. Moreover, she had made a surprising declaration, that upon reaching maturity, she would appoint her as her guardian knight. Traditionally, only noble, valorous knights were chosen for such a role, not dark wizards skulking in shadows. Yet, the offer did not feel misplaced to her, nor did she regret employing the dragon transformation spell in a bid to save her royal friend.

Despite losing her most potent safeguarding spell, she harbored no sadness. Her present fear was far more pressing: that Princess Lucia, now transformed into a dragon, might never revert to her human form. The spell had acted unpredictably, sparking a realization that perhaps she had never truly mastered the incantation she had chanced upon in ancient ruins, a spell so volatile that it seemed to distort and erase itself from memory, as if resisting the grasp of any who dared wield it.

The possibility that the spell had irreversibly merged with Lucia's essence was deeply troubling. "Could the soul also transform into that of a dragon?" she pondered aloud, a dread filling her chest.

The light in Athena's eyes dimmed at the question. It was one thing for the body to undergo such a transformation, perhaps even thrilling in a temporary, adventurous sort of way, but for the soul to also become draconic? That blurred the lines between being human and becoming a true dragon permanently.

"I can cope with a physical transformation," Athena mused, a mix of fear and fascination in her tone, "but losing my human soul, becoming a dragon in essence? That's too much. It's one thing to play at being a dragon, quite another to be bound to such a fate forever."

"Compared to being a dragon, I still prefer my humanity," she affirmed, her voice tinged with a longing for normalcy.

"Yes," she responded, her mind racing for solutions. "But after the spell's power dissipates, can her soul revert as well?" She posed the question more to herself, a silent plea for the universe to not let the princess lose her very essence to the arcane.

"If we manage to locate Princess Lucia quickly, there might still be a chance to dispel the curse. If too much time passes, she may be unable to return to her human form," she explained, urgency lacing her words.

Athena's brow furrowed in concern. "Is it really that severe? You cast the spell; can't you also remove it?"

"The dragon transformation spell has altered in ways I didn't anticipate. It's beyond my control now. Moreover, the details of the spell are fading from my memory. Soon, I'll only recall that I once possessed a powerful spell, but its exact nature will elude me," she replied, her tone tinged with helplessness.

"A spell going rogue? I've heard of source energy doing that, but never a spell," Athena remarked, her voice a mix of incredulity and concern.

"It's not merely out of control, it's as if it's vanishing. It's like... imagine a mission completed. Yes, it's as though the spell has fulfilled its purpose and then returned to its divine origin, to the God of Curses."

Athena looked puzzled, her face a portrait of confusion. "That's a rather unusual way to put it."

"I know it sounds strange. Look, don't rush to blame the divine. If Lucia truly can't revert to her human form, after I rescue her, perhaps I could forge a dragon knight contract with her."

"That's a good approach. And don't feel guilty, you cast the spell with good intentions, not to cause harm. So, there's no need for any psychological burden," Athena reassured her.

Then, lightening the mood, she quipped, "Eva, whether I can become the knight to this 'Lost Dog Royal Sister' is entirely your call."

Athena's demeanor reverted to her usual carefree attitude, treating the gravity of the situation as if it were merely another day's minor trouble. Eva appreciated this about Athena; her unwavering spirit made collaborating with her genuinely comforting.

"Get some rest tonight," she suggested firmly. "Tomorrow, I'll delve into texts about evil dragons. The quest to find the black dragon and rescue the beleaguered Princess Lucia promises to be a lengthy ordeal. Let's both head to bed early, I certainly will."

"Yes," came the reply, tinged with a wistful note. "Tonight, I hope to dream of soaring through the skies atop Lucia, now a dragon, expanding the borders of the Faloran Empire."

Silence filled the air, marking the gravity of their mission.

The following day, on June 21, 3455, according to the Black Dragon Calendar, the clouds cleared to reveal a sunny sky. That morning, the formidable dragon, weary of traditional teaching methods, decided to abandon teaching young dragon Lucia dragon script via Pinyin. Instead, he opted for a more radical approach: memory inheritance.

He planned to extract the ancestral dragon memories from his own mind and implant them into Lucia's, allowing her to absorb the ancient knowledge gradually.

But Lucia was in turmoil. She knew all too well the dangers of inheriting memories not meant for one's kind. While such inheritances were a boon, they required a recipient capable of withstanding their immense burden. She had heard of mage towers where memory inheritance was a gentle, prolonged process, sometimes stretching over years, allowing for gradual assimilation of a venerable legacy.

In contrast, the dragon's method was immediate and overwhelming. If she couldn't handle the flood of inherited memories, she risked losing her mind entirely. The thought terrified her, and she blurted out, "Evil dragon, are you certain that transferring such a vast trove of inherited memory into me won't reduce me to a witless dragonling?" Her voice was laced with fear and a plea for reassurance, hoping to avoid an irreversible transformation into something she wasn't prepared to become.