the stars are not wanted now, put out every one…
The night was dark and cold, uncharacteristically so for summer. It was quiet, almost haunting, with only the wind to shiver through trees, whispering of change to come. He had suspected as much, for the shed-star had long gazed upon the night sky, listening to the songs of the stars, wondering what they meant. They sang a warning lately, of great change to come. What that change would look like, Azrael could not have imagined… but he knew that the stars would never lie. They had gazed upon this world for too long, had seen all which had come to pass, and all that the future would bring. Still, there was a heavy and ominous edge to their mention of change, one which gave him pause. But even the dreamwalker himself could not imagine the events which would unfold, on this fateful summer night.
Something’s coming… Noctua’s voice mirrored the warning in the stars, urgent as she flew to Azrael and settled onto the perch of his shoulder. He paused, turning to the owl and grooming her gently with his teeth, careful to settle her with a soothing hush before beginning his journey from the mountains. Down, down, down the astrologer walked, far from the heavens where he spent many nights gazing upon Caligo’s realm. Even the sky seemed to sense a disruption in the peace of their court, thick clouds forming and shadowing the stars, blotting out the light until only the soft glow of Azrael lit the familiar path he descended toward the court.
The clouds are met with lightning, bright as it streaked across the night, echoed by thunder which followed. He does not know the source to be Tempest and his daughter, and yet there is a strange sense of familiarity prickling electrically down his spine. As he wonders about the sensation, Azrael instinctively knows that something terrible has happened… he knows that there is magic afoul, and that the stars are weeping with sadness for Denocte. But he cannot know why. His pace hurries, eager to know, even as he finds himself drawn into a throng of others who gathered beneath the roiling night sky.
They murmured with wondering, and Azrael found himself looking around for those who were familiar. He finds Cicatrix, nodding to the stargazer with only a hint of worry in his azure gaze. But he cannot find their queen, nor her daughter, a curious thing.
Murmurs turn to awe, the crowds parting to let Caligo through. Immediately, he recognizes the goddess – for the two had met before, walking together within a dream. In this world, she is even more than in his dreamland. She is sheer magic, dark as night with stardust still clinging to every inch of her, painting her an ethereal and powerful being. For a moment, he thinks her gaze might have fallen on his with an almost imperceptible nod, but the moment is fleeting as she begins to speak to those who have gathered.
Denoctians – Morrigan is no more… She has been killed, and I cannot tell you how or why
Her words roar through Azrael, ripping a piece of his heart which takes his breath away. The whispering from those around him grows louder, as his herd mates wonder at the circumstances. Azrael himself felt numb, his mind racing back to only days ago, when he had stood beside Morrighan on the beach. Then, they had been surrounded by laughter and song, with bonfires licking at the night sky and waves crashing in the moonlight. How quickly the world could shift and change…
Azrael takes a steadying breath, closing his eyes and finding Morrighan there – picturing her in his mind, alive and vibrant as she had been days before, with the best of intentions in leading them forward. She had placed confidence in his ability to lead, encouraged him to find his place within this court and to serve how he could… but he didn’t know how he could go on with the court so changed – so wrought with pain and grief.
There is a numbness in him as he turns from Caligo and the stars he has loved for so long, unsure of what his place was in the world now, unknown of where he could go. And the only thing he could think, is that Azrael should go home – to Elena and her love, the only place which felt right.
He steps to Cicatrix, whispering for the would-be sovereign to hear. “I am sorry… I don’t think I should be here anymore. You should take the champion role in my stead, I cannot see how I can – not when my heart is somewhere else.”
Azrael doesn’t wait to hear their answer, turning from the kingdom with a black shroud of grief upon his heart, as he flees to his lover on the coast, longing for her embrace and it alone.
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