Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land

by Alex Rey

  Rather than with metal and glass, the chandeliers were made from metal and diamonds. Even a Mocranian of Molar’s royalty found the sight of these gems mesmerizing. How anybody could have afforded this—even somebody as royal as his grandfather—was well beyond Molar’s knowledge.

  In addition to having a beautifully-decorated ceiling, the Mapharaux was also surrounded by polished walls. The checkerboard textures and eloquent designs on the walls held enough beauty to keep himself hovering in the same area a bit longer.

  It wasn’t long when Molar found somebody pulling him by where his foot had once been. He released a screech of pain just before realizing it was Carpla who had picked him up. Within heartbeats did he find himself hanging upside-down beneath Carpla’s grasp.

  Glaring at his own son from behind his hood, Carpla walked over toward the center of this room—which was surprisingly empty. While completely devoid of all life, this center seemed to attract all sorts of attention from outside its gates.

  “You’ll stay right there,” explained Carpla while pointing to a spot near Yofel’s judge stand. At this spot also shone a spotlight, but no guards stood around it.

  While still hanging upside-down, Molar took a look at the spotlight. It was after staring at the light for only a brief moment when Molar found himself plummeting to the floor. With a crash did his head meet the floor. With a grunt did he pick himself up with his wings, floating over to the spotlight all the while.

  Once in the midst of this spotlight, he took hearing of many of the Mocranians in the room murmuring thoughts to each other. He almost wished that he could hear at least one of their conversations. But I can’t let their negativity bring me down!

  Taking just above the spot-lit ground beneath him, Molar made an attempt at pushing the outside voices from his mind. He knew that in order to win a trial, all outside distractions must have been left in the dust while a storm of ideas brewed in his head.

  It was only shortly after Molar set himself in the spotlight when Yofel came walking into the beautifully-lit room. It was the first time Molar had taken sight of his grandfather since his first day of flight. The entire assembly of Mocranians found themselves quieted down upon witnessing the emperor’s presence.

  Through a slightly slow pace, Yofel made his way toward the judge’s stand—which set a short distance in front of Molar. Every step the old creature made caused Molar’s bones to tense up more and more with time. It was almost as if the chandeliers’ light had gone out—and all which remained was the spotlight in which Molar now stood.

  Once in his chair, the emperor of Mocrano asked Molar through a slightly tense voice, “Do you know why you have been called down to this trial?”

  “Yes,” Molar answered somewhat calmly after a short pause, “I am here because I thought the slaves should be treated better.”

  At the sound of these words, a horde of murmuring spilled out between almost every Mocranian in the room. Molar felt a sense of embarrassment trickle down his spine, all the while triggering the desire to cower away from his problems. Thankfully for him, the murmuring came to a stop when Yofel began to speak once again.

  “Well,” Yofel continued, “before you were born, I had worried that you may try to rebel when you saw the slaves.” After another pause of silence, “I wanted to tell your father that it wasn’t a wise idea to create a son with the same bones of a griffin—but I decided to leave him alone.”

  Another round of murmuring sounded through the room, this one proving to be less chaotic than the last. “What’s wrong with me being a griffin?” Molar asked, bringing the murmuring to a stop.

  “It’s commonly believed that griffins have a certain sense to feel sorrow for one another when they see somebody else in pain. But you must think like us if you want to live with us.” A growl formed in his voice with these last few words.

  At the sound of his growl, Molar nearly took a step back as he began to wonder how Yofel—or any Mocranian, for that matter—could think the slaves were unequal to him. It seemed likely to him most of the slaves who had been serving Mocrano had been born after the first slaves came into work. Therefore, most of the slaves who were around should have been free Mocranians.

  Although he hadn’t known it, Molar was causing a long pause of silence through his train of thought. Once he came to this realization, he shot a look up at his grandfather when he asked, “How would you feel if you were a slave?”

  Hearing this question, the emperor behind all of the clothes and metal began to tense his arms. His fingers curled around the arms of his chair when he hissed, “Don’t ask any unnecessary questions, Molar.”

  Flinching away from the emperor, Molar asked himself, How was that unnecessary? The question rang in his head until Yofel continued, “This is about you—not me.”

  His feet twitching, Molar was just barely able to hold back an irritable sigh. “I wouldn’t want to be a slave,” he replied. “I’ve seen how their owners treat them. It just doesn’t seem fair to me that they do all the work while we beat them.”

  “The slaves should be thankful that we have them work for us!” Yofel retorted. “Because they’ve built and mined so much, we give them food and comfortable places for them to rest.”

  “Comfortable?” Molar sneered. “The only places I’ve seen them rest are clear areas in the sand!”

  As these words spilled out into the room, the entire Mapharaux stood silent as a chilling breeze swept through. This breeze caused Molar to think, I shouldn’t have done that!

  “Molar, although you are my grandson,” Yofel began, “you are banished!”

  These three words cause Molar’s entire body to freeze, feeling as if every bone in his body would swell up with failure. At the same time did his wings come to a halt, causing his feet to touch the ground. The world outside him seemed to disappear as he heard his grandfather’s words echo faintly in his head.

  “I would make you a slave, but that would just lead to another mouth we’ll have to feed. We already have too many slaves, so this is the best option for us.”

  Clearing his throat, Yofel continued on his explanation. “You will be turned into what has forever stood for everything against us once I’m through with you!”

  A look of dismay dragging across his face, Molar’s ankles began to twitch when a group of Mocranian warriors came up to him. Each of them human, their exquisite spears pointed toward him as he began to cower.

  “Have him killed, and make sure he doesn’t try to fly away! If he does, make sure he suffers.” At that moment, Yofel picked himself from his chair to walk towards his own grandson.

  Kill me? thought Molar. I thought he was just going to banish me! And what does he mean he’ll turn me into what has stood against Mocranians? What would that be?

  Witnessing his grandfather stalk toward him, Molar lost every ounce of sensation in his bones. He wanted to run, but he just couldn’t; fear had locked him in one place. The closer Yofel came, the further he felt himself plunge into this freezing sensation.

  At last did the emperor find himself face-to-face with his grandson. The feel of Yofel’s breath brushing through his shell of bone would have made Molar shiver in fear—were it not for his already-present numbness. His cold hand came to rest on Molar’s head, causing the griffin to feel as if his skull were frozen.

  As Yofel removed his hand from the top of Molar’s head, a series of spikes suddenly went through the griffin’s skull. Each of these punctures were caused by the warriors’ spikes ripping Molar’s mind from his body.

  Sensing every shred of connection his mind and body had being ripped apart, Molar took notice of an even greater numbness than before. As if he were encased in a firm shell, each attack thrown upon him would have caused no pain to him whatsoever. It seemed as if all pain had lost its sting thanks to this new shell.

  For only a short while did Molar feel as if his mind was free to settle wherever it pleased. It was a sensation which made him wonder why he hadn’t yearne
d for death for all the months he had walked through Mocrano. This is better than living, he realized, Why would I want anything other than this?

  In his final moments of true freedom and happiness, Molar felt his grandfather’s hand draw through his mind. All the numbness he had once known only a few moments ago had now been taken away from him. Such a sensation made him feel as if his shell were destroyed by freezing temperatures, causing his mind to stand frozen in place.

  As if his mind had turned into a solid, Yofel grasped his mind until Molar could feel himself being moved. He felt this same feeling until Yofel placed him into a strange device—the likes of which held a shape similar to a lantern.

  Upon being thrown into this device, Molar took notice of his grandfather closing the door. All the while Molar could faintly hear his grandfather tell somebody, “Take this to the top of the tower. I’ll take care of him later.”

  Silence befell the entire courtroom at that moment. Not a single murmur, not a single whisper, or a single plead was uttered during this time. Yofel broke a silence when he mournfully announced, “I would like you all to know that I regret having to have banished Molar from Mocrano. I will now set up a new law preventing any family from suffering the pain Carpla and I have gone through.”

  With these words, a final round of murmuring roared through the whole room, causing confusion for everybody inside. Nearly every murmur spilling out into the room at that moment had been made for the questioning of Yofel’s statement.

  “Due to the possibility of there being an uncontrollable population, it is now illegal for anybody to give birth to a child. Anybody who is caught doing so will be either executed or enslaved.”

  At the sound of these words, a great roar of protesting rang out through the entire Mapharaux. As each of the angry Mocranians released cries of dismay, Carpla sat in the same spot where he had sat the whole trial—looking down at his feet. All the while did he attempt to push the sounds of these resentful Mocranians’ voices from his head.

  Carpla had barely even taken notice of Yofel’s declaration to having childbirth illegal. The outside world had seemed to fade for him upon witnessing his son’s mind being imprisoned in Yofel’s device. Ever since those fateful moments, a great sense of remorse caused him to once again yearn for his lost son—even through all the pain he had caused Molar.

  Raising a hand, Yofel brought the protesting to a stop when he explained, “Allow me to show you what will happen when this law is not obeyed.”

  With a quick turn of his head, Yofel turned his gaze toward one of the guards and gave them a curt nod. His gaze still locked on the warrior, Yofel’s hand came into the air when he randomly pointed to a Mocranian hyena watching idly by.

  The hyena received a shock of surprise at the sight of the emperor pointing toward him—and he quickly found a javelin piercing through his skull as he became one of the deceased.

  With a swarm of emotions forming behind his mask, Yofel continued, “That will be your worst-case scenario.” A pause came into play before he continued, “I hereby announce that this trial is over. You may all leave.” Such words revived Carpla from his trance.

  As each Mocranian in the Mapharaux exited the great building, many murmurs were shared among them. Such questions wondered what would happen to Molar’s mind and what Yofel meant when he told his grandson how he would become everything the Mocranians didn’t stand for.

  These questions and many more rang through Mocrano as Carpla began to saunter his way back home. Every step seemed a mournful nail in Molar’s coffin, each nail never to be broken by any force on Mocrano.

  Chapter VII

  A New Family

  “Ahh...! Look at it!” Sahemawia, a snowy owl, exclaimed to herself. Her egg had just split up into two pieces, thereby making her a mother. Inside the egg came one of the tiniest owls she had ever taken notice of in her whole life.

  Hurriedly, Sahemawia’s mate, Ulpheir, made his way into their family’s hollow. Once inside, he panted, “What—what just happened? I found a worm, but did I miss the hatching?”

  With a sigh, Sahemawia replied, “Unfortunately. But it’s okay—our owlet’s safe and sound in the nest!”

  Barely taking notice of the last words expelled from Sahemawia’s beak, Ulpheir could feel his two stomachs churn with shame and embarrassment. However, the feeling that he had felt in his stomach quickly faded away once he took sight of his owlet.

  Almost completely covered in a clear glop, this little owlet squirmed about in the stick-built nest. He cared not for the cool air surrounding him, he cared not for the fact that he could not see; all he could think of now was where on Earth he was.

  Inhaling the air surrounding his owlet, Ulpheir was able to point out his child exposed a male’s scent. “It’s a boy!” he exclaimed. “What should we call him?”

  Startled, it had taken Sahemawia a while to come up with the perfect name for her son. With so many names she had heard of, it was no wonder her decision hadn’t popped up instantly.

  In the midst of her thoughts, Sahemawia took notice of her blind son staring idly into the sky—through the hollow’s wood and even through his own eyelids. Looking in the same direction as her son, Sahemawia twisted her flexible neck to take sight of a large, full moon sitting out in the sky. A look of awe flashing in her eyes, Sahemawia asked herself, Is he trying to take a look at the moon?

  After a pause of silence, Sahemawia turned her gaze off of her son and softly told Ulpheir, “Let’s call him Leyoht.”

  Giving a small sigh of joy, Ulpheir complimented, “What a beautiful name!” Over and over again, he repeated this name in his head; just the thought of listening to this name caused his heart to race.

  “Isn’t he a cutie?” Sahemawia asked, bending over to get a better view of her son. Two eyelids sealing a group of magnificently yellow eyes rested near the top of his face. Like his parents, both his beak and his legs gave off a black color. Surrounding most of his body was a layer of thin, gray, fluffy down—yet still he remained mostly pink in appearance.

  “I just wish I could squeeze him!” Ulpheir complained with a squeal surpassing his voice. Turning his gaze down toward his own feet, he explained after releasing a sigh, “But I don’t want to crush him.”

  In response, Sahemawia gave a quick nod with a slightly humorous smile passing her face. A spark of memory flashing through her mind at that moment—and she flashed her gaze toward Ulpheir when she asked him, “Do you still have the worm?”

  Taking a look into his left talon, Ulpheir flinched when he took sight of the nearly-deceased arthropod. He had been so dumbstruck by the sight of his newborn son; he had forgotten why he had missed Leyoht’s birth in the first place!

  “I have it right here,” Ulpheir assured his mate, placing the worm in her outstretched talon.

  “Thanks.” Turning back over to her son, she placed a warm smile on her face. Her talon outstretched to Leyoht, Sahemawia allowed the young owl to slowly find his way toward his meal.

  After a moment of struggle, he ran into his mother’s outstretched talon, causing his beak to land in the worm’s cool skin. Seeing the worm as food, Leyoht grabbed it with his beak and began to inhale this meal into his tiny stomach. Such food tingled the owlet’s tongue with more intensity than he could possibly imagine.

  It had taken a while, but Leyoht was able to finish his meal with a filled stomach. Keeping their eyes close to their son, neither of his parents missed a single moment of his dining. Shortly after Leyoht had finished his meal, he witnessed a great tiredness raining over him.

  Taking notice of her son letting out a large yawn, Sahemawia carefully came into the nest to comfort the young hatchling. Don’t’ wanna step on him. Or sit on him! Once he came in contact with his mother, Leyoht pressed himself up against her feathers as he slowly nodded off to sleep. Such a sight caused Sahemawia to yawn herself.

  “I’ll leave you both alone,” Ulpheir informed the two tired owls upon witnessing Sahemawi
a’s tiredness. Very stealthily, he made his way to the rim of his hollow and took a look into the stars above his head.

  Oh, what a night, he thought. Our egg finally hatched; I’m finally a father! Such thoughts allowed to him feel the powers of authority, the perplexity of integrity, the strengths of love. However, even a father of his age could not remain awake forever—regardless of his excitement.

  Tiredness quickly began to shroud Ulpheir’s head as he continued to curl his talons around the edge of his hollow. His eyes locked onto the moon, he took notice of a large, dark-gray cloud enveloping the moon’s beautiful white shine. The cloud brought with it a skin-chilling breeze, causing Ulpheir to shiver.

  Oh boy, Ulpheir thought as the cold air brushed through his feathers. Winter’s coming up very quickly this year. The thought of winter coming up—just at his son’s birth—caused a thorn of worry to pierce through his thoughts.

  As the breeze continued to blow through his feathers, Ulpheir sensed a speck of ice fall upon his beak. As it began to melt, he wiped the drop of freezing-cold water off of his beak with his wing. Once his wing came back to the left side of his torso to warm the rest of his body up, he took notice of a storm of snowflakes emerging from the sky.

  Feeling the snow melt into his feathers, Ulpheir gave himself a shake just before coming back into the hollow. He sniffed as he made his way to the center of the tree. Making an attempt at squeezing the moisture from his feathers, he pressed himself against his sleeping family.

  Closing his tired, yellow eyes, he quickly found himself falling asleep. The rustling from the snowstorm outside became a mere whisper in the wind as a night of peace filled this hollow.

  --

  Unlike most snowy owls, this family of three was fortunate enough to find a tree with the correct size and strength for them to live in. Every other owl in the area they had lived in was forced to build nests in the ground as a means of shelter.