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crazkoala

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       The rhythmic tempo of wing beats lulled Fate into and out of consciousness. A feverish chill swept over him, and he fought desperately to overcome it. Regardless of his physical fatigue, he held onto Ivory, never letting his grip fall too short.

       Ivory murmured words in her twilight state, trashing ever so slightly, moaning in pain. The utterances cut Fate to the core, and to know that it was his fault entirely... He shuddered, both from fever and shame.

       The shadows cast by the moon expanded in endless darkness around Fate, taunting him with their gnarled forms. He closed his eyes, as if to banish them from reality. But all too soon, he would snap them back open in fear of the caressing tendrils of sleep that provoked him persistently. Zombie like and unobservant of his ever changing surroundings, he and the griffon pressed on.

       The sun broke over the distant horizon, and its golden rays crashed into the dispersing mist. The light cascaded along the shadow, pressing it into the ground where it would remain until nightfall. Weary and aching, Fate told the griffon to land. They descended gracefully above the still morning water of a lake, circling to shore. The griffon’s front talons skimmed the smooth surface, causing the water to become airborne in a cool spray that soothed the heat of Fate’s aching shoulder.

       The squelching lake sand gave way to moss carpeted earth, and noise faded to silence as they entered the forest. Humid haze hung heavy beneath the pine canopy, and only a dim light brightened the way. Eyelids heavy with sleep deprivation, Fate battled himself to stay awake and wary. Inside this forest there was a haven, he knew—he felt its presence, but surrounding that sanctuary was peril.

       The remainder of the journey was made without the confrontation of hindering obstacles, and for that Fate was grateful. The eerie forest light succumbed to the beams of sun that burst free from the obstructing leaves, multicolored toadstools erupted from the moist soil and the scent of wildflowers became thick and intoxicating. Fate permitted himself a small smile of relief.

       Creatures stirred within blossoms of the trees. Large, curious orbs of eyes peeped from parted foliage, and minute, winged creatures fluttered about Fate’s head, darting this way and that in their excitement. He allowed the serene sense of peace to seep from him in hushed words, and as the animal’s fear dispersed, they made themselves known.

       They were not cautious in the trust he provided them. Fate clutched Ivory to him protectively, feeling her abnormally cold temperature against his own blistering skin. A cluster of fairies, no more sizable than the length of his hand, hovered over her, cooing in concern. Their small, dark eyes drifted onto Fate sadly, sensing his pain. The vibrantly colored wings that were normally so captivating were nearly revolting to him now—everything seemed bitter.

       A pixie, slightly larger than any of the biggest fairies, appeared before Fate. It placed a clammy hand on the tip of his finger, before letting it fall away to leave dusting of vivid powder in its wake. Fate dismounted the griffon, Ivory pulled close to his chest. He took her to the center of the haven, where the light shone the brightest and washed over them both with warmth that seemed to touch his soul, and knelt to the ground. Whispering pleas found their way to his mouth, where they slipped from his lips in a near silent prayer.

       Tears joined his words, slinking down his face in sluggish sorrow. He placed Ivory on the soft cushion of the jade moss, positioning his hand over her lips to feel the feeble warmth of her breath rush over his skin. On his knees, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss onto the smooth expanse of her forehead. At last, he pulled away. “I love you,” he chanted in his language, knowing that this way, its meaning would find her even if she couldn’t hear him. He poured the fact from him openly, unguarded, hoping… that it would help her hold on to what little life remained in her fragile body.

       He sat back on his heels, trying to compose himself. The creatures—hundreds of fairies; both creatures of magic and animals—gathered around Ivory’s withering spirit. Their tender hands brushed the matted hair from her face, removed her tattered clothing and her makeshift bandage, but somehow knew to leave his necklace secure around her. He turned his head away, knowing that Ivory was in the best hands anyone could ever wish to be.

       A couple of the fairies wandered over to him, placing their small fingertips on his bandaged shoulder. He shook his head silently and they drifted away. He removed the saddle bag from the griffon in search of the wineskin. In his rummaging, a book toppled from the contents. Unfamiliar to him, he picked it up. It was bound in worn black leather, and the pages were stained and nicked. He opened it gently, running his fingers over the flawless quality of the parchment. The stem and withered petals of a preserved rose resided in the seam when he first opened it.

       Turning to the first page, Fate felt his whole world hesitate before continuing on with new vigor. The words on the paper were scripted in elegance with dark, glossy ink.