- warning signs ; any

[magnus]

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

Magnus remains quiet as Syden makes his choice—quiet as Hurricane takes his leave. He was perhaps not as old as Hurricane, but he had decades to his name (although many of those had been spent beneath the pulsing waves of the ocean) and he knew the intricacies of war. He had seen it fall upon the land, and he had carried his weight throughout it. Magnus did not hunger for revenge as many throughout Beqanna assumed he did, although he could not deny he had more of a taste for bloodshed than a man of the Gates should. What he did hunger for was justice. The Chamber was just a bully, and he would not be content to lie down and take their abuse. Further, he would not be unprepared should they attack again.

So he cannot deny the grim pleasure at Syden choosing to join their ranks. Watching him with his burning gold-flecked eyes, he finally nods. “Yes, we would be grateful to have you on our side.” He is silent for another second, considering. When he does speak, his voice is husky, genuine. “I hope that it will not come to you lying down your life for the Gates, but if it does,” he pauses, straightens his shoulders, “then your name shall be remembered among her people for centuries to come. We do not forget our warriors.”

Taking a step back, he motions toward the borders. “So, are you ready to see your new home?” He knew that it would most likely not be the stallion’s first choice, or his permanent home, but he hoped that the quiet beauty of the Gates would perhaps spark something in the other. It was not the harsh power of the Tundra, but there was something worth protecting there—and Magnus needed other soldiers who saw the value in stepping up to shield it. They needed those who were willing to die to save that sanctuary.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.