// grey skies will chase the light away // any

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings Slithers of silver break through the small canopies of the upper tiers, the tips of the mountainous pines still retained their forest green tint, the strong pine scent. The bottoms, nearing the trunk, the boughs were bare, spindles falling to the floor, needles getting warped into the dying branches and autumn nakedness. It is silver against gold, as the sharp pinpricks of light taint my skin. The moonlight is vaguely warm, as if such thing could be. I know it's not. But the light, it breaks through the darkness with tentative fingers and strokes me nonetheless. With a far gentler hand than that of any I have ever met. My ears twiddle, twin radar, hanging onto Killdare's words. He has chips in an outward armour, he had a rather big weight on his shoulders. He carried it as he walked, as far as he would never admit it, I saw the stubbornness that led the weary path beyond. Stubbornness was paved for a reason, bad experiences, or an even worse family life. I have no say, my lips are tightly sealed. I cannot talk of quaint little families when I left mine, bones crumbling like ash, their eye sockets dull and their blood tainting what used to be a beautiful scene. The flashes of memory plague me again. I'm unsure why, I can normally keep them well trained. To come only on my solitary ventures. It seems they are persistent in making that uncomfortable chill quake from the tip of my nose down to the ends of my tail. I say no more, I merely listen. Visibly now my golden skin flickers, shivers. There is no wind, save for the quaint autumnal breeze that picks up some stray golden leaves and whisks them onward, upward. The chill goes far deeper, down to the very marrow of my bones, the very essence in my bleak little soul. I lose the dazzle in my eye then, the coldness, it takes everything from me, and slowly, I feel, like broken clay, my face is cracking -- facades were never meant to last forever, I guessed -- every little well placed line, a smooth, debonair smile, it became a blank mask, empty, void of everything save for the bleakness in my sapphire eyes. I see flashes, darting through the forests beyond, I hear nothing, no hoof steps, no boughs snapping under ruckus. But I see them, I see my memories chasing me, my history catching up. I reel my head in, towards my chest, doing so brings the smallest slither of warmth to my ice cold pelt. It's imaginary. My mind, vast thing, plays constant tricks. It's the midnight hour, the cold, dark night. It liked to play tricks. I was slipping. why such a fool? My eye stays on him, the other lost behind the golden curtain. I watch, i simply stare, noting how he too has gone silent. the stillness of the Chamber becoming a serenity all over again. This time, I was not alone. I wondered; a poor habit, I know. But I wondered nonetheless, what the bay steed was thinking. Silence spoke volumes. The way he looked upward, towards the towering pines, it was as though he was feeling what I was feeling. the pull, magnetic and almost forceful to this place. Like I'm hypnotised to believe everything that this land spins, like i'm lost in some perfect lie. The Chamber was alive with something, strong and almost menacing. But it felt like home. It was home. Even my herdland when I was but a babe, never felt like it was truly home. But here, here it just felt... right. In the stillness of the night, beyond the pines, further into the clearing, I strained my ear, sure it was just a figment of my imagination. But there it was again, the light pounding, the soft, thud, thud, thud. Like an unseen presence, a ghoul, a ghost. I was unsure, but I felt that. It resonated against my own dull thudding in my chest. I then turned my crown towards Killdare and gestured with my muzzle, towards the heart of the Chamber. 'Do you hear that?' I am hushed, listening, straining every part of me to hear it again. The dull thudding beneath, like a pulse, alive. very much aware. Just like Killdare had mentioned. I turned back from studying the clearing, to watch Killdare's face, whether his eyes gave away anything. 'You are right, Killdare. There are eyes, I feel them. There is something... something here, and I...' I swallow a lump in my throat, how it got there, I don't know. my cracking mask was getting thinner by the moment, my eyes still half the shine of what they were. I took a few paces forward, away from the border, towards the heart, my head turning back to the bay steed. 'I feel like there is nothing I wouldn't do for this place, to please it, to make it happy.' strange notion, I'm surely hypnotised by the rhythm pounding from the earth, matching my own. I'm letting slip words that never fall from my pink lips. My mask really is slipping. My muzzle lowers then, brushing soft velvets against the cool earth, the dry dirt mottling my pink nose. I inhale it all, the rich scent, the menthol pine. It is everything and all that I want. This place, I would, I really would do what surpasses my being to please it. and that's a feeling I've never felt in my three years of existence. It perplexes me, and in the same way angers me. Feeling things I have never felt. Said things that I've only thought of, been in the presence of another far longer than really necessary. And look, he hasn't been driven away, yet. There was certainly something about The Chamber, and it was binding me here with unseen tethers. Heart strings matching, unseen and as taut as can be. even the angels start to fall