Once she had been the most beautiful of them all, with pelt of pristine snow and eyes of precious emeralds. He knew not if his queen had changed, but he wondered if he had. Ruby eyes had gazed toward the entrance of the tunnel where the royal woman lived, but he knew better than to disturb Anathema’s leader without valid cause. His confusion was not her business, and it would be unfair to draw her into it in pursuit of logic. He could understand how simple matters could become complicated now.
He settled in the empty common room, turning his gaze from the queen’s cave and down at the rocky ground. The stick he had tried to form into something of a wooden sword for practise was not ideal in any way. It was much lighter than the katana he had taken from his mother’s destroyed room. He knew that the quality balance he wielded while holding the sword could not match anything of lesser superiority, but he knew he was not yet worthy of handling the sword the way it was supposed to.
Dark claws scratched against the rough handle, slowly carving the two-dimensional figure of a winged creature. He was nothing like the silvery songbird, with his black wings and careless soul. But perhaps he could learn to fly anyway, for he was weightless.
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