I opened my eyes to the place I had longed to be.
Not a house, but still home.
The tall trees towered above me, their leafed branches stretching towards the sun. Yet drooping down, sabotaged by their own weight, lying on top of each other, light breaching the canopy like the stars in the night sky. It provided sanctuary to all the small creatures of the forest from the ferocious predators of the air.
A glimpse of red caught my eye, flitting from branch to branch. A tiny robin perched above my body, on a limb hanging near the ground, it’s plumage the colour of spilt wine and lost kisses.
It’s call was sweet like the song of a singular violin serenading two lovers.
I stretched my calloused hands to brush the soft, spongy moss I lay on. It felt like how a cloud looked; a gentle cotton carpet, swallowing my body, letting me drown in its comfort.
My left hand hit hard warmth. I reluctantly drew my eyes away from the passerine to look at what had obstructed my serenity.
A figure.
Resting next to mine, sharing the same peace I bore a second ago.
I could see the rise and fall of their bear chest, inhaling the woody, saccharine scent of the forest floor.
My idle hand reached out to touch the smooth, urbane skin. My fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, embraced the familiar tenderness of an old friend.
The body hummed in recognition. An appeasing soothing sound, one which I only thought of in my dreams. Yet the contact between us was tangible, more real than anything I had felt in a perpetuity of time.
My eyes lazily surveyed the creases and dimples of muscle hidden beneath a sheet of tanned hide. Short brown hair, mussed from sleep, lay perfectly in disorder.
A face greeted mine in silent acknowledgment, ocean blue eyes gazed into my own, amiable and somber and longing.
Padded fingers lightly stroked the outline of my cheekbone, grazing over a childhood scar; one I had received from this very place.
My soul pleaded with his to cherish and preserve this moment. Asking for it be unbroken and eternal - but unspoken words are not heard, nor are they understood.
Anguish spread through my body, like a current overwhelming and consuming, as his face tilted to observe the constellation of light, flickering above us.
Dejectedly I too followed his act, turning to face the sky.
Yet I was not met with a heavenly body of stars, only the freckled white ceiling of my desolate room.
I let out a shuddering sigh and firmly closed my eyes, willing myself to forget.
“See all around you, the misery left behind by your torment”. The young wizard boy stood, shaking, as the northern wind whipped around his small figure. “Cruelty will not serve you!” he proclaimed as his blue lips trembled. “And there will be no-one to save you from your ruin, not even me.”
The people of Ardengate had been kind, they were not a savage people, they looked after their neighbours and cared for their town, but like everyone in this world they were not free from the burden on pain.
Pain.
That wholly consuming fiend, which leads only to your destruction; one way or another. You, like I, are burdened by pain, there is no escape, only that you pray to the Saints that you will survive it’s persecution.
“Have no fear, I do not plan to become on of your fables, this was the Saints doing.”
“Caused by you!”
Once, a long time ago Hiraith had been the one he had looked up to with awe, now his darkened, brooding figure loomed over him, anger rearing it’s claws hoping to gut him. Again he had over reacted and like last time he was not going to apologise for it.
“I did not ask for your opinion.” Hiraith grumbled, pushing his bloody sword into its sheath.
“Turn around and look at me!” Pleaded the boy.
The brown fur cloak shook, seemingly in distain, and a face appeared, eagle eyes gazing down at him.
Tables of cloaks had been laid in front of Hiraith to choose from, yet he decided the tattiest looking one would fair the best.
“Three towns we have been through, none have seen your father and yet we stand here, on a hill, while the last town burns, the people slain by that there sword, for what, they were not even his captors, but innocent people Hiraith!”
“Times of War call for unpleasant actions.”
Three heartbeats passed, the boy thought of what to do, he wasn’t trained for this.
“Bring me my writing tools.” Hiraith shouted from the cliff edge, where he had moved to to survey the town. Light was not lacking due to the raging fire of the town, it was as if it was its own sun, or raging typhoon swallowing everything in its grasp. To be part of his plan, maybe more torment of innocent people, was not in his future, although he knew he had to accompany Hiraith he could not, not any longer.
“You can do it yourself!” He shouted throwing the sack from his shoulder at Hiraith’s leather boots. Actions he hoped he would not regret.
“I hope that you are prepared for the consequences of your actions?” Hiraith calmly said, anger brimming behind his eyes.
“Will I?” The young wizard questioned under his breath, sorting through his brain for enchantments or spells that could help him, the sound of boots thundering toward him.
“Be but returned to ash!”
Free, his hand lashed out, but as his eyes opened he saw nothing but the cloak lying on the floor, it’s tinged hide worn and full of holes.
