the wicked shall receive their reward; Mast/any

[magnus]

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

If there was anything that Magnus knew, it was the way cruelty could turn even the kindest of hearts hard. He had spent too long railing against the heavens, so completely shattered by the injustice of the world—and, then, destroyed by the own darkness within him. He had slowly rebuilt himself, but that kernel of understanding had never left him; he had never forgotten how the malicious actions of another could tear so deeply into the soul of a man. And now, looking out onto a smoldering Heaven, he felt it again.

The buckskin is walking amongst the trees, those that had escaped the poison, when he sees the other stallion. It was the first Gates resident that he had seen outside of his own son. Noticing the jagged anger that seemed to course through the other, he moved slowly, arching his path wide so that Kronk would have plenty of time to see him approaching. The last thing Magnus wanted was to startle the soldier.

“Hello there,” he called when he was several yards away, coming to a stop. “The name is Magnus.” His gold-flecked eyes took in Kronk silently for a few moments, feeling a familiar rage curdling in his stomach at the sight of the smoking tree. “What happened here?” He jerked his chin toward the destroyed land, knowing without needing to hear the full story that an attack had occurred. The land was battle scarred.

“More importantly, what are we going to about it?”

To Magnus, nothing was worse than inaction. He would bleed himself dry for a cause he believed in. He would give his all for those around him. He could not sit idle when Heaven had gone up in flames. It may not be his homeland, but it was his adopted home—and although he was not the warrior that Heave had ever deserved, he would do right by her. For what she stood for and for Joelle. He had to.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.