A Touch Of Darkness

22 || Hunter

Fiesi hasn't properly appreciated the sunrise in far too long. It sets the sky alight, orange swathes dipping the treetops in golden glitter. A flickering candle that soon becomes a roaring fire, casting the darkness away and sweeping in a fresh blue. Or what scraps can be found of it, anyway, amongst the clouds' blanket.

Interlocking his hands behind his head, he lies back. His eyes weigh heavy. Travelling requires rest, and yet he can't seem to snatch more than a little sleep, especially with the stars glaring down at him all night long.

Once the day has fully arrived, he'll get up. Cloudspotting will do for now.

A sigh drifts from his lips. Maybe he'd get more sleep if he was on his way home now rather than trekking back into Cormé lands. Lifting his head a fraction, he makes out the silhouette of Threlkeld, flanked by the final mountain slopes and a cluster of forest. He might even have to stoop as low as buying more supplies from this town. His father could rant for hours about how coin did nothing but corrupt, a way for some Cormé to feel more powerful than others. A different sort of hierarchy, dictated by another, less magical force.

His father. An ache coils in Fiesi's heart. Hopefully his time on the road won't last too much longer, and if so, perhaps he won't need the supplies.

His stomach growls loudly as if to protest the thought.

As he refocuses on the sky, a smile chases away his thoughts. Amongst the brightening greys of clouds, an azure spec is descending, growing larger until he makes out the narrow shapes of wings. Without sitting up, he stretches his senses out, pulling at the thread that binds them together as it grows less taut. A blue ribbon of fire circles his arm.

Within moments, Rigel lands on his chest. His weight is pressed deliberately into Fiesi's ribs. Fiesi shoots the bird a glare over the bridge of his nose.

"Ouch. You must be getting fat."

Nice to see you, too, my dear Enkavmé. Rigel tips his beak forward. And you are not one to talk. Lazily lounging around while I work my wings off.

"Hey, shut up. I'm getting up in a minute." Propping himself up on his elbows, he makes a futile attempt to shake Rigel off. "Or in an hour, what with this feathered pig pinning me against the ground."

There is definitely haughty annoyance in Rigel's dark eyes. I did not come to be insulted. I actually came to congratulate you.

"Oh?" Fiesi frowns. "On what, exactly? Being casually awesome?"

He huffs out a breath, not entirely in the mood for the joke. It isn't like he's achieved anything in the last two days other than failure.

Rigel isn't either, but that is less unusual. Clearly not. He shakes out his wings. You have forgotten.

"I never forget my awesomeness."

A withering sigh drifts through Fiesi's mind. Congratulations on becoming a fully-fledged moron, little Kynig. It is your birthday.

"My..." A laugh escapes him as he gives his head a shake. "How in Aorila's name has that come already?"

Because that is how time works, is it not? Eighteen years ago, the world had the misfortune of producing you, and now here you lie. Still as insufferably idiotic as that day.

Fiesi grins. "You should write birthday greetings more often, Rigel. You clearly have talent."

Rigel stands a little taller. I am widely talented.

Setting his head back on the grass, Fiesi closes his eyes briefly. Eighteen. It's an odd thought. This certainly wasn't the place he expected to be upon reaching adulthood: alone, on foreign ground, still on the same search that has plagued him for all these years. And so close to it, too.