Even as isolated as he has been, it would have been impossible not to hear of the kingdom of shapeshifters. Ion, who has stood for so little in his life, finds himself drawn to this. In the dark of the endless night, his long-buried grief had eddied and hardened until it lay like a grain of sand in his heart. He ignores it as he has become so skilled at doing. And now, with the night gone, it is easier than ever.
Easier, because he had been left with something more. Easier, because he had grown into the night in wholly unexpected ways. Or perhaps it had grown into him, he’s not quite certain. Either way, when day had returned, the mirrored darkness on his hip and reflected the night sky even as it had burrowed into his very soul.
He has truly become something else now. Something he’s not certain his dead twin would recognize anymore. And did it truly matter, when he is here and Atom is not?
However it had happened, in the dawn of this new era, he finds himself wishing for something more. Needing something more. In the sleek and agile form of the panther, he makes his way towards the mountains. Wren alternates between clinging to the fur of his shoulders and flitting overhead. At first he complains heartily about leaving the forest behind them, but when Ion does not answer, he settles in with a sullen silence.
Ion continues to ignore him, set on his purpose.
The scent of wisteria and pine cannot hide the overlapping chaos of the many shifters that call this place home. Ion pauses at the edges of the forest that divide the borders of Hyline from the mountainous lake at its center, a soft chuff escaping his throat. For a moment, he paces, undecided. Then, in a moment of decisiveness, he pushes forward into the forest on nearly silent footsteps.
ion
in the empty of the grave, only distant dreams remain