He has come a long way from the boy who had been afraid of his own shadow. Such a long way that he almost can’t remember the taste of his own fear. Almost can’t remember the days he had worked himself to exhaustion, trying to prove he was stronger and faster than what he had feared. That he was better in every way.

But then, he hasn’t been that weak in a very long time. It’s strange, how fear is tied so intrinsically to weakness. He had once vowed never to be weak again, and he had kept that vow.

Winter has brought its chill to the ever-shifting land he calls home, but he does not feel it. Not when the fire beating in his soul keeps him warm. Anyone sensible would be tucked away in safety during the darkest depths of such a nearly moonless night, but Vital had left sensible behind a long time ago.

Well, mostly left it behind. His skin is a pale glimmer of shadow-dappled white that blends perfectly with the snow around him rather than the ember hues that would stand out so harshly. A faint concession to sensibility. His footsteps are idle and without destination, but he is not out at this hour because he has places to be.

No, he is out at this hour because this is when interesting things always happen. Usually. He is beginning to suspect nothing of note will happen tonight when a hare darts out from the shadows of a tree. For a moment, it freezes as though it had just spied a predator. And then, it shifts.

It takes him a heartbeat to recognize the form that takes its place, but when he does, a slow grin spreads across his lips. Who would have thought tonight would be the night for old friends?

A normal creature might have simply approached and offered a greeting in that familiar way old friends have. But their friendship had never been normal, had it? Instead, Vital shifts rapidly. An act that had once taken minutes to accomplish is now done in a single burst of blinding flame. His ear-piercing shriek splits the air only seconds before he bursts forward, gaining height for a brief moment before diving at Malik, delight burning in his avian eyes.

The light that bursts around his target is nearly blinding. Had the flames that sizzled across him, replacing flesh with feather, not already lit up the night only moments earlier, he might have lost his sight for a time. Even so, he is still forced to blink against the dots now swimming in his vision. Snapping his wings wide, Vital lets loose another ear-splitting shriek that fades into something suspiciously like laughter.

His talons swipe half-heartedly at the brilliant wings shielding Malik as he brushes past him. Had he truly wished the horned stallion harm, he might have clutched more ambitiously, might have used his deceptive strength to his advantage. They had spent enough time together as children for Vital to know he had the advantage in that moment. But, despite the nature of his approach, he did truly wish to harm Malik.

The back-draft from his wings sends snow billowing around them as he lands with a thump, the pale powder hissing beneath his feet. As his wings settle against him, he twists in head around, a uniquely avian swivel, to eye Malik with a beady gaze. The laughter in them is unmistakable. With the vibrant plumage of his crest lifting slightly, he trills, “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

It had been a very near thing, his death. He hadn’t been prepared for the world to crash so suddenly around his ears into a watery grave. Though his training with Malik had given him endurance, had moderately improved his ability to shift, the violence of his near-death had proven just how weak he had still been.

He hadn’t been sure he would ever fully rid the sea from his lungs when he had finally washed to shore some untold time later. His lungs had burned for days afterwards, and no matter how he coughed, it had still felt like the ocean was trying to rise from inside his chest to claim him once more. It wasn’t until he had been at his weakest, when he was certain death would claim him, that the phoenix had risen to burn the illness away. That moment of surrender had been the moment he had truly found his freedom.

The moment he had finally accepted all the parts of himself was the moment he left fear and weakness behind.

So when Malik exclaims his disbelief, Vital tilts his head as something almost like madness lights his eyes. Abruptly, he shifts, leaving behind the familiar ember hues of the stallion he has become, the wide and wild grin on his lips matching his fire-bright gaze.

“For a time, so did I,” he replies easily, the lightness of his tone belying the darkness of the admission. “I never once doubted you would survive though.”