Warden is restless. He fidgets beneath the deep dark of a bruised Tephran sky; an afternoon storm brews along the coast, menacing and growling with its slow movement inland. Rain has yet to begin to fall from the thick clouds that stretch forever into the sky, thunder rumbling within its depths only moments after the electric blue of lightning flickers downwards towards the ocean’s open face. He watches as the waters darken and become rough with the turbulent wind, bending at will beneath the ferocity of the storm. The wind is warm on his feathers, moist and damp as it melts into the auburn and white of his skin, as if trying to soothe him despite the thunderous storm that slowly marches towards him. It had been days since he had felt like this (unsettled, anxious) and it shows on the deep frown of his face, the inky black of his forelock and mane twisting wildly around him in the wind. His proud horns - a deep blue much like the sea - stand firm as they sprout from his forehead, a precious opal growing from his very marrow.
He knows what is next, for his mind and heart are as tumultuous as the sea and the sky.
Between his eyes, the familiar burning sensation begins and the stallion responds by angrily pulling at the black sand beneath his blue opaled hooves. Arching his neck as the burning becomes more intense, he braces himself for whatever vision his third eye will force him to see.
A child, wide-eyed and beautiful, stares up at him with the same blue eyes as his father. But there is sadness in those lovely eyes and great confusion. He attempts to reach out, to soothe and comfort the unrest that brews in the child’s gaze, but he becomes frozen as those crystalline blue irises begin to crack and shatter, tracing the foal’s entire body until lines criss and cross all over. Warden watches helplessly as pieces fall away, splintering before him until the rest of his vision begins to shatter too, and he is left with nothing but black.
When the vision fades, rain falls in fat drops against him, hard and angry. Without hesitation, he spreads his great white wings from his side and beats them once, twice - disappearing into the epicenter of the summer tempest. The wild wind and water are unkind to him as he navigates the storm, so when the clouds begin to disperse and only a light drizzle pelts his coat, does he realize that he is flying high above the forest.
With a gentle tip and twist of the large outer feathers of his wings, he begins his descent, dripping wet and soaking as he lands solidly with an ungraceful thud, mud splattering onto the darkness of his legs. He breathes heavily, gasping as he attempts to slow his racing heart, while he timidly fluffs the white wings into his sides, droplets of rainwater falling away from him and clinging to bark and leaves like dew.
WARDEN
