A Torn Heart} Any

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

He is in the field, as is his usual routine, when he heard the call. Caught off guard, he lifts his heavy, scarred head, ears twisting atop his skull to find the source. It is then that he sees the mare, and his lacerated lips rise into a ghost of a smile. “Hello,” he calls back, making his way slowly over toward her, the autumn sun dappling his golden back. It was not often that someone reached out to him here; he was usually the first to greet. Magnus found that he didn’t mind it though. It was rather refreshing.

It only takes a moment before he is near the other mare, and he smiles easily. “My name is Magnus,” his voice is husky, deep. “Are you enjoying the field today?” Most didn’t, he knows, but he has always found that this is one of his favorite places to be. It is a place of infinite possibility—a place where souls get a chance to truly forge their future. The decisions made here should shape their lives, and he always felt honored to play even a small role in that. If they chose Heaven as their home, it was all the better.

Silence falls between them after he says this, but he does not mind that either. The golden stallion had always been comfortable in the quiet. It was easy to stand near someone when you had nothing to hide and no hidden agenda; it was just easy companionship in his mind. So he did not force anything, instead watching her with his gold-flecked eyes, inky tail flicking at his sides lazily as the afternoon rolled on.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.