Set
" There's a black bird perched outside my window, I hear him calling. I hear him sing. He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers. He sees all my sins. He reads my soul. "
He drifts back onto Beqannan soil with a quiet sigh. Materializing from a world long forgotten, his hide – oilslick splashed with innocence – pieced together as if he’d been the same all along. As if he had never left. The body of his youth, suspended in time.
The stench of rotting berries and blood lies thick in his nostrils as he eases from the dark womb of the surrounding forest. The sun lies low on the horizon, its warmth diluted by the yellowing leaves, not yet ready to succumb to the northern winds of winter. He pauses there, at the edge, gold-colored eyes shifting, adjusting to what the Field is now. His gaze lingers briefly on the strangers that populate this no-man’s land, weighing them, always finding himself looking for her, them, familiar faces of days past.. The grass mutes his steps, thirst strong in a throat that has not seen water for … The blind end in his memory gives him pause, a stutter in his otherwise sure stride. How long had it been? Really, lost time was the least of his worries – the immortal life of a magician assures that – but it bothers him some that he cannot remember the last time he was topside. Niklas would know. Set’s son of fire and brimstone, the hollow-eyed creature would not be far behind him. Set had felt Niklas’ return, alongside the demon’s beloved Salomea’s, as he shifted from the Underworld to the here and now.
The water is cold, the dull roar of the waterfall heavy in his ears. One corner of his mouth draws up, shoulders rolling as he steps away from the water’s edge. He aches - in joints long accustomed to disuse, in dusty, cobwebbed lungs; in his olde world mind suddenly thrust into this unknown.
But … it’s good to be back.
Long live the king.
SET
alliance champion, once king, mage