There had been a time when Alaric felt nothing. He roamed this world with a cold numbness where his life meant nothing to anyone and he lived without being known. The great stories of his life burned to ash with the kingdom he desired more than life itself. Sometimes he thinks he can hear their screams bouncing and clawing around in his brain, Alaric finds them melodic, a memory of a better time. When he was feared. Upon returning to Novus no horse knew him. He was a ghost. Anyone that would remember him was long gone, wiped out by the sun courts former leader. The Davke were no more, he was born in Novus to those powerful feared horses and like the sand, they were blown away.
It had been unclear to Alaric when he had left the sands for the soft greens of the grass, lost in thought he had just traveled. The only sounds coming from the horses' teeth chiming around his neck. When the sound of running water and the golden glow of flames played across his body Alaric snapped from his trance. "Hmmm" his gravel-like voice bounced from tree to tree in the loneliness of it all, stretching both ink black wings to the sky they seemed to make the night darker, light from the flames licking at them. "It seems I've come just in time for one of Novus' festivals."
There were many trees in which paper hung limp like useless appendages, waiting for someone to open them and read them. Begging for a stranger or someone destined to come open them and reveal their secrets inside. Stepping under one of the many decorated trees the stallion allowed the hanging notes to trail across his back gently like lover's kisses. Alaric lifted his head and found paper resting in the nook of one of the limbs of the tree, using his lesser telekinesis the man brought it to him, along with something to write with.
Alaric would write a promise, something he would keep until it was accomplished or he was killed because Alaric would not stop until it was done. Whoever was to blame for killing his family was already dead but the people of the court allowed it to happen. They were at fault too. Alaric chuckled. Something deep and dark and full of hatred as he wrote; 'the day court will crumble beneath my hooves'.
Rolling it up he strung it up in one of the lower hanging branches with a silk ribbon and a single horse tooth to hang with it. And with that, the stallion stepped away and with a violent rush of air he took to the sky to watch from above, waiting and watching for anyone- if anyone- to stumble upon his note.
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