i'm still waiting for the world to end; mast, any

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

For all intents and purposes, the timing was good luck. The buckskin stallion had just been preparing to leave for the Chamber on a mission when he sees the mare with the raven digging into her shoulder. He pauses for a second, wondering if he should let the unknown other delay his trip—after all, time was truly of the essence when it came to this. But, instinct eventually won out. Altering his course, Magnus moved toward the patchwork mare, his gold-flecked eyes curious, if not a little wary. All of the residents of the Gates had good reason to be wary lately, and he had never had the good graces of meeting the Queen.

“Hello there,” he said when he is within several feet of her, his voice smoke and ash, the rust having long dissolved from the decades of disuse. There is something sad about the way she holds herself—something that speaks to defeat and Magnus cannot help but pick it up. If only he knew the way she was feeling; there were few who could empathize to the depth and degree of he. He knew just how heavy the head was that carried the crown. More so, he knew the marrow-deep ache that came from disappointing a kingdom.

Not that he would agree with her assessment of her failure.

After a few moments of silence, he takes another step forward, caution bleeding away, “My name is Magnus.” The say that a name holds great power, but for him, such power often is just sand in the wind. A name is only powerful so long as people remember it. He didn’t mind it though. Taking another step, the stallion dipped his head slightly, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you okay?” She didn’t look like she was.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.