Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Unspeakable Words, Chapter 2 - Cirrus

On the southwest coast of Einalia, along a shore so treacherous it earned the nickname "Suicide Bay," sat a string of villages known collectively as The Sands. Life in The Sands was easygoing. It was home to artists, potters, musicians, and poets who enjoyed a simpler life far away from Port Shorishal rule. They lived harmoniously in thatched huts painted in shades of orange, pink, yellow, and blue. Unfortunately, such a distance from the capital also made it a target for Wyvern Rock pirates. The population of pacifists was constantly in need of protection.

Cirrus Alindal made a point of visiting The Sands as often as he could. As Archmage, his presence was often the only thing preventing the region from becoming a corrupted haven for criminals and invaders. It was frequent for him to fight off a few pirates and reward himself with a relaxing holiday in one of the villages' famous treetop cabanas.

He had never asked an apprentice to accompany him before, but word had reached him that a particularly rough band of marauders were planning an assault from the north. Deciding a second mage would ease the battle, he took Horus along with him and left Oran alone in Highwater.

Cirrus had trained both young men to be competent mages, yet he found Horus required special attention. The lad carried wounds of neglect from his childhood. Horus's perceived seniority over Oran made him feel better about his place in the world. Without Oran's presence distracting him, Horus was a stalwart apprentice and consummately eager to please. He had, in fact, been that way since Cirrus found him, his fiery magic pulsing from an overcrowded shack in Morningshire; when Horus was just a little tow-headed scamp with a chip on his shoulder.

Horus's attraction to Archmage was always apparent. It was cute at first; Cirrus was used to the wide-eyed admiration of children. But it became more uncomfortable as Horus grew into a handsome young man. Cirrus found all manner of sentient beings beautiful. He had given freely of intimacy his entire life. But never with his apprentices. The power dynamic between teacher and student was not even footing. He knew better.

Cirrus made the mistake once of asking Horus what he wanted for his seventeenth birthday. The boy was drunk on juniper spirit. He leaned in closer to Cirrus, dizzy with desire. It was apparent what he wanted before he even spoke.

"I want to be yours," said Horus. "I wish you would take me in any way you desire. Kiss me, consume me. Caress me, destroy me. I want you to make me feel things I've only always dreamt you would."

It was easy for Cirrus at that moment to turn him down. Horus resembled so much the boy he had found in Morningshire, tears in the corners of his desperate eyes. It wasn't right to take advantage of his vulnerability. Still, it was difficult to forget those words.

For that reason, Cirrus should have known better than to take Horus to The Sands. In the year since Horus's seventeenth birthday, he had become more of a man. His understanding of the world had grown. The affection and sideways glances were harder to ignore.

In their fight against the marauders, Horus served as an impressive support mage. And when confronted by an enemy conjuror, he used a well-timed counter-spell. He redirected a murder of black soaring blades back at the caster. The surprised man took dozens of knives to his limbs and torso and bled out on the docks. It was the first time Horus had ever killed. He knelt beside the sea as Cirrus helped him wash the blood speckles from his face.

At night, they returned to Cirrus's favorite village where towering stairs spiraled around the trunks of giant palms and spherical bungalows hung from sky-high branches. A kindly widower allowed them to stay in his dwelling, thankful for the Archmage's continued assistance against violent invaders. He brought them a meal of oysters, lamb, palm hearts, and spiced cider. The cider was strong. Horus drank it quickly, trying to forget the day.