Chatterbox: Inkwell

Flight- Dawn 1

The most vivid memory I have of my childhood is that of the veterans disscusing a viable option to take down the shadow.

The end of those discussions, for they were held repeatedly time after time, was that we'd need ten warriors. Ten lives to take down one reaper.

And they could have failed even then. The shadow was unlike anything we had ever reckoned with. It has eyes on the back of its head, grandfather told me. He always said so. It can see you coming through the thickest clouds, through the glare of the sun. It can blow you away with a clap of its wings. He always would sigh a rattling sigh after that depressing recital and shake his head, his own withered wings shuddering around his frail body.

Grandfather's muzzle was scarred on the left side. His ear was gone. Fur had covered it when he was still healthy, but now in his twilight even that fur had dropped out. The bald silver skin sat glaring on the side of his head. 

I was afraid. I was afraid of the shadow, and grandfather's rattling sigh, and his cloudy eyes that would stare at me fixedly like a statue whenever he spoke to me. I asked mother if one day, I would stand among one of those fated ten. 

Mother had barely spoke her answer before father cut her off. The soldier who life had fashioned into a steel golem devoid of emotion and facial expressions was laughing with a voice of thunder. Dragging me out of the room and laughing all the way, he pulled me to the edge of the doorway and showed me the blue sky peeking through a slit between the doors. He didn't even stop laughing then. He only told me to look and remember what the sky looked like now. His laugh was hearty and amused. I didn't even understand what the funny part was.

So I forgot about the strange episode and focused on the now. And the now was flight. As one of the new recuits, I was only authorized to fly at night, when everyone was asleep and my only companions were the moon and stars and wind in my ears. My training sessions brought me through misty clouds and over jagged mountain peaks. The firmanent was so close to my back, so near that I felt that I could beat my wings, reach up and gather a handful of dark velvet in my paws. Oftentimes I wondered if Grandfather would have enjoyed something like this in his youth.

But the dark was not enough for me. It obscured the eye and denied me the views of the land beneath me, the vast green expanse of earth that we all return to at the end of our journey. I wanted to see the sun rise over the horizon, but was barred from the door by father when I tried to sneak out at daybreak.

Why, I asked. Now is not the time, Father answered. The shadow is still active, patrolling the skies. There are too many eyes that will see you now. You need to hide yourself until our chance comes. 

I was jealous of my cousin. He could fly in the daylight unhindered and free. I admired how he tore through the sky like an enchanted spearhead, his armour and wingguards shining in the sun like light reflecting off a blade's edge.

You're going to be better than me. He would tell me when he landed. You're the Federation's true sword of Damocles, descending upon the enemy with unstoppable force.

Uncle would cuff him on the back of his head with his tail and kick him away after helping him remove his armor. Don't listen to him, he said. You're not going to be a cheap sword. You're going to be our guardian angel, one who smites the unjust over the head. Like you did with the enchanted spearhead? I ask, and then I get the same treatment my cousin did moments ago.

I felt good with myself after that though, and went to ask father if today I could fly? When could I fly?

Father shook his head and waved me off. No, not yet. But close. 

He told me to wait for a change. The slight change of temprature over a glacier is enough to send infinite amounts of water cascading to the ground. Wait for the temprature to rise.

I kept training. Night after night, because that was when the shadow could not see me, now I knew. The sky did not seem that free anymore. I slowly began to realize what kept the veterans fixated on the shadow. I needed to slay it. I needed to figure out a good way.

I kept pestering father with my questions.

He kept saying, not yet.

Until that day came, a wonderful winter morning in January. Father came for me and nudged me in the side. Go now. It's your turn. The shadows are coming.

Finally! I basked in the sun and wondered out loud how far I could go, how high I was allowed to climb.

Father gave me a hard cuff over my head remeniscent of Uncle and I realized that some traditions die hard in the family. No restrictions, you knucklehead. Get up there and wring that ghost's neck! Let the world see that Neriona can fight its own battles! And remember to make them pay for Grandfather's ear.

I glanced at his face, then the blue sky above me, dotted with white clouds. The sun was shining. It was the same patch he had told me to remember oh so long ago, at the doorway of our house. I began to laugh with him, in the warm sunlight. This time I was to fly higher than the clouds and reach the stars. Not only the stars, but also the sun! 

I only then realized why he laughed that day. He was laughing at my naivety.

We don't need to sacrifice ten warriors.

Not when we have a future.

What is years of darkness compared to standing on the pinnacle of the world? 

Nothing but a few winglengths, I suppose.