Nature's first green is gold

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

Visiting the field was not the same that it used to be.

Before, it had been like pulling on a worn, familiar glove—the leather soft and fitted. He had known the shape of the field like the back of ones own hand; he had known the thrum of its pace and the rituals. It had been a dance where he had known every step, and he had found that it was one he was good at.

But now—oh, now—it was unfamiliar. The colors were too harsh, the shadows too long, He walked into the field and felt the sadness tug at his heart, a depression lurking beneath the surface that he struggled to overcome. Just when he had been finding his feet, the rug had been pulled out from underneath him. When he slept at night, he dreamt of the Gates going up in smoke. He dreamt of the small form of his child lying still (too still) on the ground. He dreamt of Minette’s tears, Ellyse’s cries, of Joelle.

He dreamt of his failures so that when he woke, he felt the weight of them, constant and unyielding.

Still, he was not ready to give up and so, this day, he shook the dust from his coat and ventured outside of Tephra to the land that he had once known so well. The Field was not as familiar as he had once remembered, but the bite in the air was comforting. When he saw the pair, he did not waste time but walked over, his handsome face breaking into a crooked, warm smile. “Hello there.” He looked at them both, holding their gaze for a beat, before nodding in greeting. “My name is Magnus.”

And then he fell silent, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

magnus