[private] loving you isn't the right thing to do. || magnus

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

It was difficult, nay, impossible to convince himself that he was somehow not responsible for this. He knew, logically, that magic had pulled from deep within Beqanna’s breast—shaking the constellations and unearthing the heavens from beneath the soil, pulling back the gifts like the tide pulling from the shore—but he could not shake the guilt that rattled his bones. It was deep as marrow and splintering in pain. He could not think around it, the frantic fear for anyone who had inhabited the land seeping into his chest and seizing his heart. He should have been there. He should have been there when they woke up. He shouldn’t have left; he should have stayed. He should have helped guide them down and find their bearings.

His trip had been uneventful if only because he hardly remembered it. He had found his path mindlessly, step unusually clumsy and heavy as he swung his heavy-jawed face to and fro, trying to see horses through the fog around him—trying to feel out familiar shapes and curves. It had been, ultimately, an unsuccessful venture. There had been no others around him. He had been alone with his thoughts and his fears; he had been left to walk down the craggy slope with nothing but himself for company.

And what he had found when he finally descended had been chaotic. Fear as thick as smoke winding around the crowds, choking many so that their throats closed up and their eyes widened.

He had finally found a corner to himself, where the air seemed to lighten and the noise quietened to a dull roar in the back of his mind. Dropping his head, he took a heavy breath, his sides heaving—and it was like that he stayed until he felt the rustling of her wings and the warmth of her flesh. He would not lie to himself; fear’s death grip on his heart loosened when he felt her near his flank, and he curled toward her instinctively. His inky muzzle reached across to brush against her jaw and then her neck, pushing aside the tangled locks of hair so that he could smell the heady scent of her. Safe. She was safe.

(And so was the life blossoming in her belly.)

He exhaled in relief. “Ellyse,” her name sounded like a prayer on his lips. “I am so glad that you are okay.” I am so glad that you are with me, he thought, but does not voice that just yet. He pulled back just slightly to look around them, his scarred mouth pulling into a deep frown. “Should we start looking for them?” He didn’t know where to start, but if it would bring her peace of mind, he would move mountains.

magnus