I listen to Megaera as she gives me a warning. If she thinks I would simply walk out about when there are demons lurking about she believes me a fool. Then she proceeds to give me an explanation of ranks. “Ah, not the type for skulking about? I assumed such a thing, but an informant sounds like something I could potentially thrive in, I’ll make sure to speak to those individuals you mentioned.” Humor laced my first words but it faded as I continued on. Funny how easily I can joke despite everything that had happened today. Honestly I don’t want to speak with anyone and just want to find a nice secluded place where I can simply process. My eyes shift towards a figure that comes toward us, and I find my interest piqued when I notice the lack of one wing. I do my best not to stare and shift my gaze as quickly as possible. Just like Megaera, this mare has flames roaring in her mane. My head cocks and my eyes narrow slightly, and I begin to wonder why these mortals bear such divine appearances.

Behind the one-winged mare comes a stallion. He’s smaller than each individual there, but I still find myself staring. Upon realizing the one-winged asked me a question I turn my gaze towards her. “I’m alive, so I consider that to be something.” I’ll never understand why these strangers hold any concern over my wellbeing. There is nothing I’ve done to earn it. If they knew who I was, then they’d most likely not want me anywhere near their band, as where I went death swiftly follows. For a period of time that could’ve been a literal statement, and my mind drifts back to the days where I had that angel of death glued to my hip. Only his fall had pulled us apart. “When I stumbled into this place there was no darkness, even after I was struck nothing came,” I snap my mouth shut as soon as the words come out and an alarmed expression crosses my face. The last thing I need for them is to ask questions. I do my best to regain composure and shift my face into it’s typical guarded and blank expression. Five hundred and forty seven days and I still haven’t remastered the art of concealing my feelings.

Pride wants me to spit on the gift these inferior beings are presenting before me, but I know better. I’ll wait until I’m healed and paid back my debt before I turn and search for something… There has to be something out there for me, and I don’t want to believe that it’s serving under a mortal. Right now I need to swallow my pride and use what has been presented to me, clearly these individuals are a gift from my father so I should appreciate it. “I know at the moment I am of no use to you and your herd, but once I am healed, I have every intentions of paying you back for the safety you have provided me with. I’m not a warrior, but have had much experience in the art of stealth.” And bloodshed. I wonder if the stallion will question such a statement with the youth that is written all across my features. There isn’t a single scar that blemishes my flesh despite the millennia of hunting and wars. There isn’t even a single sign of the wear and tear of time. However, there are scars upon the soul trapped within this vessel. There are signs of wear from the countless sunrises I’ve witnessed. Really I am tired and maybe it is time for a new chapter to begin in my life.

Even if my heart is heavy and there is an evil looming in this land, I will regard all of this a fresh start for me. Let a new page begin in the story of Hamaliel the Father’s prized.


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