The walk toward their home is a somber one. He and Offspring do not talk much after Beqanna grants their petition; instead, each stallion leaves the other to their thoughts. Magnus is absorbed mostly with thoughts of his past, of the mistakes that led him here. He thinks of the wars he has helped to wage. The way that his heart has thirsted for power, hungry with ambition. He thinks of the rage that has always simmered just below the surface, of the way his best intentions have always twisted away from him.
With each step he takes, the faces of all those he has disappointed in the past flash before his eyes. Those he has not loved fiercely enough. Those he has not protected well enough. Those he has let get the better of his anger, righteous or not. Those he has disappointed. All of them are seared against his eyelids, branded upon his heart. He carries them like stones in his chest, reminded with each breath of his failures.
The weight of his guilt lessens as the land begins to unfold around them. He lifts his handsome head to take in the vegetation, the lush greenery that springs forth from the volcanic soil, the heat in the air, the salt from the nearby sea. But mostly—oh, mostly—he focuses on the humid heat that begins to settle into the air. His lungs fill with it, his skin growing slick with sweat in response. There is a piece of his heart that reacts violently in his chest, the humidity striking a chord of familiarity to his jungle birth home.
Home. Home. This is home.
As they grow to face the crowd, Magnus steps toward the side, letting Offspring address them all. He just nods in agreement, gold-flecked eyes flickering with emotion before he looks toward those gathered. First, he looks toward Camelia, and his smile deepens. He does not know much of her, or know her past, but he knew in their short time together that she had loves the Gates deeply. In that regard, she reminds him of Joelle and, for that, his heart grows soft for her. Even her suggestion rings true of his once Queen and he finds himself nodding in consent. It would do the land well to remember the lessons taught.
He then looks toward the children, branded with a red eye each, a clear nod to the behemoth by his side. The sight of them makes him smile, too; it was good to know the kingdom would be rich with youth.
Finally, he looks toward the silent mare who had approached him in the field. Again, his gaze lingers on her, puzzlement flashing across his features, before he nods toward her in greeting. It was good to see her.
After he had done his best to acknowledge each soul who had come with them, who had followed them, he takes a step forward, clearing the rust from his throat. “You do not all know me,” he begins, his smile crooked but warm. “My name is Magnus, once of the Gates.” At this, he glances toward Camelia, giving her a sly wink before continuing. “The truth, however, is that I have lived and served in many kingdoms: the Jungle, the Chamber, the Dale, the Gates. I have seen the good in each of them, just as I have seen the seedy underbelly. I have no desire to seek power here or repeat the sins of my past.”
There had been too much bloodshed. Too much pain. He could not, would not, let it repeat.
“I want for this kingdom what I once wanted for the Gates: a sanctuary. A land with an open border policy where travelers can come to rest their weary head without fear of interrogation. A land where the hurt can come to nurse their wounds. A place that can be many things to many, whether it be a home or a purpose.”
A pause. “That peace, however, does not come freely. We know that. Beqanna may be reeling from this latest tragedy, but the shadows will not be forever kept at bay. The wolf may someday come knocking on our door. So I propose that we maintain that sanctuary with a firm, just hand. We are a sanctuary, but we are not a place where the greedy can dip their hand to take, where the bloodthirsty can sate their hunger.”
His throat is dry from the speech, the warrior in him despising the words that spill from his tongue, but his heart prodding him to continue, to divulge his heart to those around him. “Tephra is now our home, and I pledge to you that I will live and die for her—for you. I pledge to serve and protect you to the best of my abilities, until I have no more breath or strength to give.” And then, finally, he falls quiet, his eyes burning, his heart pounding in his chest, but silence once again falling as he steps back once more.
magnus
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