06-23-2021, 01:36 AM
With each passing day, he could feel his frustration mounting.
There were gifts that he had been born with—the ability to call souls up from the dead, or the way he can summon clouds from the air to carry him when he did not wish to walk. While they had taken practice to master, they had still come naturally to him, like learning to walk, or to fight. There hadn’t been any great struggle to figure out the way they worked, and now, as an adult (though a young one), they came as easy as breathing.
It was why he was surprised the first time he suddenly shifted into a panther.
No thought, no warning.
Just the impossible darkness of the eclipse and then a rapid contorting of muscle and bone, the kind that left him panting and trembling on the ground of Hyaline.
At first, he was exhilarated. The idea of being able to shift into the same shape as his father was thrilling, not only because he liked the idea of it, but because it meant he could truly belong in Hyaline—as a shifter.
That is, until he realized that he could not control it.
Until he realized that the shifting came and went at random, with no reason he could yet discern. It did not coincide with the moon or the sun, with his moods or anything of the like. The only thing that remained for certain is that the harder he tried to control it—the more he tried to force this feral magic that lived inside of him to behave in any kind of way—the worse it became. Like a predator caged it fought against the shackles he tried to place, and he found himself aggravated and exhausted and worn far too thin.
And so, instead of going to his father for advice, or even his mother, he disappears. Not for forever, he thinks, but at least for now. Until he can learn to manage it, to keep from making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
In a secluded area, far enough away from the masses that he could slip away easily should he shift again, he lingers near the river. The autumn sunlight reflects off the surface of the water, like thousands of glass shards caught in the current, and he watches them with golden eyes. There is a subtle frown burrowed into his brow as he stares at the water, clearly lost in thought, so much so that he does not notice the presence of anyone else.
There were gifts that he had been born with—the ability to call souls up from the dead, or the way he can summon clouds from the air to carry him when he did not wish to walk. While they had taken practice to master, they had still come naturally to him, like learning to walk, or to fight. There hadn’t been any great struggle to figure out the way they worked, and now, as an adult (though a young one), they came as easy as breathing.
It was why he was surprised the first time he suddenly shifted into a panther.
No thought, no warning.
Just the impossible darkness of the eclipse and then a rapid contorting of muscle and bone, the kind that left him panting and trembling on the ground of Hyaline.
At first, he was exhilarated. The idea of being able to shift into the same shape as his father was thrilling, not only because he liked the idea of it, but because it meant he could truly belong in Hyaline—as a shifter.
That is, until he realized that he could not control it.
Until he realized that the shifting came and went at random, with no reason he could yet discern. It did not coincide with the moon or the sun, with his moods or anything of the like. The only thing that remained for certain is that the harder he tried to control it—the more he tried to force this feral magic that lived inside of him to behave in any kind of way—the worse it became. Like a predator caged it fought against the shackles he tried to place, and he found himself aggravated and exhausted and worn far too thin.
And so, instead of going to his father for advice, or even his mother, he disappears. Not for forever, he thinks, but at least for now. Until he can learn to manage it, to keep from making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
In a secluded area, far enough away from the masses that he could slip away easily should he shift again, he lingers near the river. The autumn sunlight reflects off the surface of the water, like thousands of glass shards caught in the current, and he watches them with golden eyes. There is a subtle frown burrowed into his brow as he stares at the water, clearly lost in thought, so much so that he does not notice the presence of anyone else.