"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The trails seem endless. One melts into another then branches off into a third. Uncertain of a direct path Shiya simply wanders. It feels like weeks (and it could very well have been) since she has recognized anything at all. Lost and confused Shiya just assures herself to keep going. She has passed open plains and glistening lakes, foreboding mountains and grassy meadows. A world unexplored to her is quickly unraveling. What urgency she once had has dissipated, distracted by the sights and smells of Beqanna. A sense of freedom kisses her brow and lifts the corners of her mouth into a grin.
This is all her home, she muses as she meticulously descends a small ledge. Her emerald eyes stare down with care before lifting to see the kingdom unfurl in front of her.
It's a beautiful thing to behold but Shiya can't quite determine where she is. Her mind is like that of a newborn's, so innocent and naive. Beqanna has been a part of her life since the day she was born and yet she remembers nothing of it. It didn't bother her then because she didn't know better but now, as she stands at the borders of the Gates, she can't help the pang of guilt that shoots through her. Should she recognize this place? She can't quite be sure. A deep sigh punctuates her silent confusion before a sweet noise slips past her lips into the brisk, foggy morning.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Despite the attack, the Gates still maintains an open border policy. While it is considered polite to wait there, Magnus considers it more of a courtesy than anything (although, perhaps, Mast would disagree with him). The Gates was a haven, a sanctuary, and it did not require blood to enter. Still, he recognizes that she is being polite when he sees the scaled-mare come to the border and then pause. He had been doing his usual patrol of the kingdom when she had arrived, this time from the air, and he altered his course to where she stood. His descent was smooth—far smoother than his early flights—and he lands quietly.
“Hello,” he greets in honey-whiskey tones, his voice husky and deep. Walking the final few feet toward her, he takes the seconds to observe her. She seemed quiet, shy, and perhaps nervous, although he chalked that up to her being in a new place—all things that contradicted the reptilian nature of her appearance. Magnus had learned a long time ago though that appearance did not matter much. He had seen the sweetest smiles given by the most vicious killers and seen the kindest hearts hiding behind scarred lips.
When he stops, he drops his wide, handsome head into a more formal nod, his bearing distinctly militaristic. “My name is Magnus.” His gaze finds her own, and he holds it steady, the question hanging in the air between them before he finally formed it with words. “Is there anything that I can do for you?” She could very well be a diplomat visiting from another kingdom (they had started to receive those lately) or simply a mare looking for a home. He had seen both and was equipped to handle either.
For most, silence is golden. It's an opportune time to mull things over and take everything in. It allows a moment to bask in experiences and life. Unfortunately, silence isn't quite so felicitous because it allows her mind to race back to Eight and his absent touch. A frown quirks her lips as she takes him into deep consideration and wonders why he is all she has ever known. Every memory she has is adorned with his face, his embrace, his husky voice. Her muscles quiver at the thought and her eyes shut as she tries so hard to remember if there was anything - anyone - before him, but nothing surfaces. Shiya's mind has been a playground for not only one magician, but two. Their fingers have thumbed through her memories and altered them or simply wiped them away, but she doesn't know this. All she knows is that her world is innocent and happy and that Eight has been with her since the beginning.
The sound of wings buffeting the air brings Shiya to the present. Her emerald eyes hastily open and look at the stallion descending toward her. A smile plays across her lips as the distance between them is closed by his own muffled footsteps. "Hello," her voice is nectar to his ears, so sweet and addictive - a lullaby - like her mother. "I'm Shiya." Their eyes meet and for a fleeting moment she forgets Gallows and forgets Eight. There is simply this moment as the sunlight rests across their backs. This is not love, no, not even infatuation, but she melts into her company always. As though loneliness has plagued her for years Shiya can't help but constantly crave attention. She feeds off it, thrives on the companionship that anyone provides her.
She looks lethal - menacing even - with her slit eyes and protruding fangs, but she is so very weak-hearted. When she looks at Magnus she sees a tried soldier. The muscles of his body are taut ropes underneath his skin, weaving through bone to create the masterpiece that he is. Shiya sheepishly grins; how meek she must look in comparison to him with her gaze casting down and her torso smaller and more slender than his. She is not dangerous, this much he can tell. A moment of quiet hangs between them following his question as she hesitates. Everything in her mind has suddenly lapsed but when she raises her head to meet his eyes again it all comes racing back with gusto. "A home," she finally says in a more purposeful voice, though still silky and sweet, "I didn't want to go to the field to be swarmed. It's too overwhelming. I wanted to visit places to see them first and to see if they're suitable for me." Candy coated lies, but still convincing as she turns her head to drink in the scenery. Perhaps this is a kingdom that she would truly belong in, she wonders before exhaling a deep breath into the wind.
Their eyes meet again and Shiya smiles. "Please tell me where I am and more about it. It truly is beautiful here."
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
He had no reason to suspect her, no reason to think she was lying, and so he doesn’t. He was confident in his strength, in his ability to protect this kingdom, and truly the Gates had nothing to hide. There was no secret weapon living within their borders—nothing but sweat and blood and faith. So he does not waste his time in questioning her motives, he just meets her sweet smile with a scarred version of his own. “I can understand that,” because he had seen how overwhelming the recruiting process in the field could be; he had been part of that overwhelming nature before. There were plenty of reasons for her to avoid that.
Taking a step back, he gestured toward the kingdom that unfolded around them, the colors of Fall just beginning to hit Heaven. The trees were magnificent now, blooming in reds and oranges and yellows. It was one of his favorite seasons at the kingdom—although he was partial to all of them in one way or another. (In his heart of hearts, none of them matched the vicious beauty of the Jungle, but they all reminded him of Joelle and the softness of her smile, and for that, he chose the Gates every time.)
“This is Heaven’s Gates,” he said simply. “Why don’t you come further in so that I can show you around?” He began to walk alongside her as he led her through the dips of the kingdom. “I can tell you anything you would like to know about it.” There was no secrets for him to shield, and he was proud of the Gate’s openness—even after being attacked. “Is there something in particular you want to know?”
His scarred grin somehow eases her. It takes a little strain from her as she watches him with curious eyes. Battle worn, rugged, and yet he is still kind. Most soldiers struggle with conversation, deterred by socializing in any way other than fighting. His voice, rough granite against her ears, sounds better than what she had anticipated. Somehow Magnus is able to distract her for a fleeting moment. In one instant she forgets why she is here and why Eight is so heavily embedded in her memories and why her life seems so blurred and lost. A hum resonates through her as her eyes fall to the ground, thinking, trying to hard to remember.
Heaven's Gates, she suddenly hears him say. There is adoration twisting in his voice, an underlying passion when he welcomes her and offers any information she may want. Suddenly, he and the kingdom are an open book. Shiya lifts her head and focuses on the world that unravels in front of her, no longer blocked by Magnus. A jagged smile returns to her scaled lips as she eases a step forward. "Heaven's Gates," she repeats with intrigue. It's such a different sense here, a different world entirely from the Valley or any place she passed on her way here. "What distinguishes the Gates from all other places? Everyone seems to have sort of a sanctuary, or landmark, or something that gives the kingdom more allure." Or so she feels like that would be correct. Each kingdom is in an entirely different environment; there has to be an infamous feature in each of them, right?
A warm breath coils in front of her nostrils as the autumn air begins to nip at their skin. She shudders when a breeze slips through and dances across her back, but she forces a chuckle. "This time of year is beautiful, but I've never been one for the cold." Her obsidian scales are not enough to insulate her. In attempt to tip the scale Shiya walks just a little faster, hoping that warmth will be attained if she moves more. A sheepish grin adorns her exotic face when she glances over her shoulder to look at Magnus. "Scales and cold don't go together," as though he doesn't already understand that. If only she had adapted well enough to the seasons or if she had the ability to grow a heavy coat of fur when the temperatures plummet from the summer.
If only.
Shiya eventually stops to face Magnus, their eyes meeting again. Her curiosity of him is spreading across her like a blanket. "What brought you to live here? Truthfully," because honesty is what she always wants.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
There is something about her that seems broken—empty. His mouth twists slightly, thinking of Minette and her children who had come here in a similar state. They had been so abused by Gryffen that they did not seem to even think that they belonged here or that they deserved happiness. Such a thought process was not completely foreign to Magnus, but his familiarity with the subject did not deter him from wanting them to find peace at their new home. He could only hope that one day they would find joy.
He could only hope that Shiya, too, would find her own peace.
At ease with the scaled mare, he frowns at her question. Not necessarily that she had asked it, but that it brought up memories of when he had failed the kingdom—that he had not been here to protect her. Walking alongside her, he motioned toward the large tree. “It was both before and after my time, but the Gates had a large garden where fruit grew. I have been told that if you eat the fruit, you can grow traits and drinking of the water will compel you to tell the truth.” He laughs a little, the sound low and throaty, “But the Gates was attacked by the Chamber and such magic was hurt. Not ruined, but hurt.”
He laughs a little at her admission and ruffles his wings in response. “I can understand that, although we are lucky that autumn in the Gates is a fairly mild affair. We do not have the bite of, say, the Tundra.” Or the Chamber, although their seasons seemed to be more insidious with the fog that blanketed the kingdom even more heavily during the colder months. Even the Valley’s fall was harsher than the Gates, but he did not say so. He did not like to think of the Valley; he preferred to keep it far from his thoughts.
When she stops, he does the same, and his expression remains sober. “Her name was Joelle,” he answers truthfully, because she seemed to want it. “I was from the Jungle and then the Chamber, but she was—light. She was everything I had never known, but I wanted her regardless. I pledged myself to her father’s kingdom and continued to serve her when she became Queen. I was made General of the army and she later asked me to serve by her side as King.” His smile is small and nostalgic as he looks around the kingdom, “I was never really made to live here. I still don’t belong truthfully, but I love this kingdom because of her, and I made myself a promise that I would protect it for her.” His eyes grow a little fierce at this as he glances back to her. “I’ll die before I let another attack befall the Gates again.”
With the absence of her memories there is also an absence of her heartbreak. The grimy fingers of both Pazuzu and Eight eased away her pain and mended the pieces of her shattered heart. With their magic they erased Rharian and her love for him, they erased her defective children, her incestual brother, her desperate flings. It's all gone. The agony, the smiles, the laughter, and the guilt. The magicians left her as a shell of what she once was. Now, she knows nothing of emotional pain, only happiness. Without hurt Shiya only knows joy.
It's a bittersweet curse, but she doesn't know any better. She doesn't realize the magnitude her past had or how it was ripping her apart. In a way she could be thrilled to be rid of the spiraling descent her life was making, but she could also be somber by not remembering anyone she came into contact with before. Deaths, failures, and heartbreaks are things of her forgotten past. They don't haunt her like they had or nip at her heels like Magnus' memories. Unable to miss the brief frown Shiya's attention piques. She glances to one side then the other sheepishly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she whispers into the cool air, but he is stepping aside and bringing her underneath a tree. A story pursues and she understands why he had frowned and why he holds the kingdom so tightly to his heart. "Do you know why the Chamber attacked?" The curiosity twists heavily in her voice and brightens her emerald eyes when they level on Magnus. "Will the magic ever be fully restored?" She can only hope for the Gate's sake that it will and that it will thrive once more because there is more to this kingdom than just meadows and trees and flowers.
There is love and there is passion.
Just in the way he says her name Shiya can't help but smile. It's a tale that she has always wanted for herself but knows that it will not be attained. Few are meant for happily ever afters; Magnus is one of those lucky individuals. The story is spoken upon the lips of a lover, so tender and warm. He recalls Joelle's nature and her effect on him. He even admits why he has stayed although realizing he is eternally an outsider (but she would never imagine why). "That is truly touching," her voice is delicate, almost too afraid to speak and distract him from the memories replaying in his mind. "You seem to be a rare type, Magnus, and the Gates is surely grateful to have you." Loyalty, devotion, and love. Those three things are threaded into his entire being and soul, and for just a fleeting moment, Shiya envies Joelle.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Her company is mild, easy, and he finds himself enjoying it. He has no way of knowing that she is indeed from the Valley—the kingdom he hates perhaps more than anything else—and he has no way of knowing that she is there as enemy and not friend. When he looks at her guileless eyes, all he sees is kindness, and he is glad to while away the hours by her side. One day, his trust in others would be his downfall.
Moving alongside her, he continues to talk, opening up with her gentle questions. “The Chamber attacked because it is what they do—they pride themselves on shows of power because they think that is what will grant them their own form of immortality.” His lips twist into a smile. “But they’re wrong. Cruelty against the weak or the innocent will never bring them the power they want, because they can’t kill what they can’t understand.” He motions around, “And they can’t understand this. They will never understand it.”
The Chamber was incapable of understanding the beauty of the Gates and the peace of her residents. They would never understand the strength that came from loving something fiercely or hope or faith. Magnus barely understood it and he had lived among them for decades. “As for our magic, I believe it will.” He winked at her briefly. “Magic has a way of being hard to defeat, and the Gates is surprisingly durable.”
He wonders how she views him—wonders if his story is perhaps deceiving. So when he laughs, the sound is self-deprecating and he just shakes his golden head. “Thank you, but I fear that I am the one who is lucky the Gates still allows me to call her home.” His face grows somber again. “I miss Joelle every day, but being here reminds me that she’s still all around. The only way I have of honoring her memory is trying to protect this kingdom that she loves and being the best version of myself for her.” He shakes his head again, his laugh more light-hearted this time. “But enough of me and my story. What of you?”
Shiya takes note as to how he doesn't even mention the Valley. The Chamber, a neighboring kingdom, is spoken with poison on his tongue and disgust on his face. She can sense his hatred and disapproval of them and all that they have done (and may continue doing). It makes her heart flutter as she remembers the core reason she's here. Everything he has said and done, however, makes her regret this, all of it. She shouldn't have come because she doesn't have the tenacity and strength of the other Valley members. Her heart is weak and so hopeful to find the light in everyone. This was meant to bring forward a confidence she never had, but it's backfiring now as she meets Magnus' eyes.
Without letting herself falter Shiya listens to him with an occasional nod, trying to grasp everything he says. She tries hard not to run away, to cower in the shadows like a fearful child. What she is doing feels so wrong, but there is no turning back now. She has to hold steady as her eyes flicker from the tree to Magnus and back. "The light of the Gates will shatter the darkness," it's a feeble reassurance that he is already confident in. "This is a marvelous place, Magnus. You are lucky." Lucky to live here, lucky to have love here, lucky to be loved.
A jagged smile stretches across her lips when their gaze connects. "Joelle would be proud," her whisper is light and almost lost in the wind as it breathes across the rolling hills. It all feels so right, and so serene, that she gets lost in enjoying this moment. She almost doesn't hear Magnus and she almost wishes she hadn't. It's a question she never has an answer for. Without knowing herself how can she tell anyone a story? Without knowing her own past how can she truly build a future? "I, uh," Shiya hesitates as she searches herself for an answer, "I don't know." Her voice is suddenly shifted. What had been sweetened with honey now depresses and becomes somber. "I don't remember anything. All of my memories contain only one horse and I don't know what to make of it." Ashamed, she looks down, fighting herself to run away.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
He does not notice her momentary faltering, does not pick up on the slip in her confidence, and he instead continues to focus on the conversation, his gaze lingering on the scarred wood of the tree and the growth that was just beginning to flourish at the base of it. When he finally brings his gold-flecked eyes back to her, he smiles, catching the tail end of her murmured response. He was not put off by the shy nature of her reassurance; he would not expect her to be confident in their ability to overcome the powerful darkness of the Chamber and the Valley. Then again, Magnus loved nothing more than being the underdog in a fight.
What he does notice, however, is the dark cloud that rolls across her features when he directs the topic to her and her past, and his features fall to match her own. “I am sorry, Shiya.” He gently touches her neck. “I did not mean to cause you any pain or discomfort.” For a second, he falls silent, thinking about whatever tormented her and how, in its own way, it mirrored the own demons that plagued him.
Finally, he made the decision. “You know, I know quite well the pain of an altered memory—although not quite to the same extent as your own.” He rolls his scarred shoulders. “You see, I did not quite tell you the whole story earlier.” His frowns, his expression apologetic. “Joelle and I were killed—murdered—on the beach. I spent several decades underneath the saltwater.” His gaze is distant as he remembers, his flesh rolling as he flinches from the memory. “When I came back, my memories were…choppy. Distant. It felt like sand that I could never hold. I’d remember pieces and then forget others or mix up stories entirely.”
Another rueful smile. “I still don’t think I have everything back—I doubt I ever will.” His eyes burn as he finds her gaze again. “I am truly, deeply sorry for whatever you are experiencing, Shiya. I hope that one day you will be able to remember again, at least the parts that you want to.” He pauses, fearing that he was perhaps overstepping. “Just know that you’re not alone in this, and it does not make you less whole.”
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