Fate whispers to him,
"You cannot withstand the storm."

The princeling is so engrossed in the darkness, its dark sparks in his body, and its ashen explosion from his chest that the whispers of the cerndyr’s cloven hooves go unnoticed in his youthful ears. His young body, already overwhelmed by magic and life, misses the subtle warmth and presence that marked the deer’s body alongside his. Perhaps, when he is older and wiser and more savvy to life’s threats (rather than only being the threat), he will not miss such hints of another’s approach. But, as it is, the deer’s regretfully gleeful approach slips his attention, forgone for the close scrutiny of the collapsed kit and joyous sound of his sister’s giggles.

Kia’s laugh was something extraordinary to the colt— at least, her true laughter that (so far) only he had had the privilege of causing. It was the soft chiming of dark bells, holding a promise of something darker, richer, and more sensual to come as she aged. And the dark prince prized it.

Though, his eyes sweep from her ink-dipped face and bright eyes to the frozen, furry rodents. His own, ink-striped face drops slightly, peering through the slightly opaque cloud that suspended the rabbits, him large and luminous eyes blinking a few times as the ash trembles in its suspended cloud. The fuzzy paws, long ears, and small noses of his terrified victims twitch a few times, dark button eyes rolling wildly as his youthful magic begins to loosen its hold.

“Brother, we have been graced with another.” Small head rises on his short foal neck, head jerking to find the proudly sharp antlers that are attached to the dark brown deer alongside him. Bright blue eyes widen in surprise that he had neither seen nor heard the small deer approach— magic must be a consuming thing, his young mind realizes and notes for future uses.

“Can we try it on this one, too?” A grin crosses his foal whiskered lips— surprisingly dark for one so young. “Yes, Kia.” Regardless if he had wanted to do so (and he most certainly did want to try his power on a larger creature than bunnies), the colt was truly incapable of denying his dearest sister.

So, with a mind now following a track akin to Kia’s, the cold mentally seizes quivering ash that shrouds the rabbits. And, the poor rodents, fall to earth— those living fleeing on bounding legs, and the one dead slumping in a soft, furry heap. Lacking dexterity and control because of his youth, the cloud flies up into the air in a condensed, medium-sized cloud. It moves erratically, jerking a few times, before suddenly speeding towards the small deer.

Sweat prickles his soft skin, darkening gold to bronze and buckskin to brown. His black-masked brows furrow as he shifts slightly away from the antlered creature, to keep clear of the rushing ash cloud.

A soft snicker comes out of his self-satisfied smirk.

and he whispers back

"I am the storm."

Kianzo