He was born on a night that was blind.
The eclipse had begun just before his very first cry, shrouding the sky in an abyss so pure that it felt as though the earth had been swallowed whole. The air tasted of needles—cold and sharp—spicy at the touch of its whisper, a sting. Reux was meant for the purest form of darkness, untainted by light.
"What does it mean?" Said the nurse as she scanned the letters written in upper-case, smiling at the mother and her child.
"To be generous," she laughed weakly, holding the boy close to her chest. "This boy will do good, even in the absence of light."
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They had not arranged to meet under the tree that faced the empty field eastwards of the island, bracing against a wind that had blades of grass bend to its will; cutting the surface of his skin with a deadly chill.
Bare feet were not meant to walk on glass, or so Iolani Tori had come to observe having stepped on a path littered with shards of grief. They belonged to a heart so torn, battered by the wind; crushed by slings and arrows and left behind.
Approaching it required a terrible courage that the majority of humankind did not possess, washed away by the fear of sadness and the quest to rid of its existence, completely. He sat not far away from the other who awaited the return of his master, silent.
Neither of them spoke amidst the wind, watching as it trampled over blades of grass until the presence of another was felt from behind.
Would you mind being the medium? Io turned to see the snowy owl perched on the lowest branch of the tree, staring at the lonesome back of her friend. I thought I'd never get to see him again.
The Avian landed soundlessly beside her still and unmoving pet, observing the eyes that stared into the distance as though waiting for something to appear at the edge of the forest. His back was straight despite the hours and nights of kneeling by the tree, bracing the wind that threatened to undo all manner and discipline.
I was afraid to speak to you, pet.
"I was...afraid to speak to you, pet," Io began quietly, watching as the ice began to thaw. Slowly but surely, Jiro began to lower his head; meeting the eyes of the snowy owl. I was afraid that you would cry.
He repeated the words in his head and found it nearly impossible to remain as an impartial medium. The bitter lump in his throat was large and thick.
Will you hear me out?
The nightingale stared with eyes wide, stung by the wind as his curtains parted to reveal emotion—warm and wet—streaming down his face like droplets of the rain. "おりがみ..." He raised his gaze to the skies as though willing it to provide an answer, sobbing quietly as he did.
The strangest, most human grief stirred within the owl and she closed the distance between them both, careful with her talons as she stood before the human. No. Don't cry, Jiro. Please don't. She raised a wing and brushed the corner of his eyes with the tip of her feathers. One so pure and untainted should be meant for nothing but happiness.
YOU ARE READING
Flight School: Predator
Fantasy[Second book of the Flight Series] "More than anything, the sky was red. It wasn't dark, no. Just red." Iolani Tori learns about the part of him that isn't human; and sees the line between animal and himself thin to something less than a thread. If...
