threatening the life it belongs to; sahm

[magnus]

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

This Gates was not the one he had left.

(Left involuntarily, but left nonetheless.)

The Gates that he had left had been active—tense, wounded—but active. It had been bristling with an uncertain energy, an anger that simmered under the surface, a hunger for justice that bordered on revenge. He had been tireless then, flying to and from the field daily, patrolling the sleeping kingdom at night. He had worked alongside Mast and Wichita, taking up the mantle of General and Lord as a familiar sword. It had felt right to step into that role and although the kingdom did not always fit him perfectly, he had long since accepted the fact that it was his. He would always live and die for it, just as he did for Joelle.

But this Gates…this was different. It was wounded, but instead of stirring with anger, it was sleeping. It felt hollowed out—weak. His chest constricted painfully as he thought about it, standing by himself with the night’s breeze washing over him and lifting his mane from his neck. He set his jaw, stubbornness taking root in his mind. He was not ready to let the Gates go quietly into the night—he never would. If he had to lift it up himself, he would do that. He would work himself to the bone if that is what was needed.

Of course, it would be easier with some help.

His gaze flickered toward the sabino stallion, an unfamiliar sight and yet somehow familiar. Perhaps it was just the acknowledgment of a kindred spirit or perhaps it was the acknowledgment of aligned purpose. Whatever it was, Magnus found himself trusting the quiet magician. Trusting him enough to move from his spot of silence and work his way toward Sahm, branches quietly scratching his back and leaves tangling in his forever messed up, knotted mane. He silently came up the stallion’s side, watching the kingdom unfold around them, the scent of spring heavy in the air and thick as it tangled in the wind.

Finally, “Sahm, is it?” He angled his heavily jawed face toward the other, his expression carefully neutral. “My name is Magnus.” He figured the other had picked it up during the meeting, but Magnus was not in the habit of assuming others knew he was; even when it was something worth knowing. “I have a feeling that you and I have a similar purpose.” Looking out toward the kingdom, he sighed. “Identical, even.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.