The Elements of Zion: The Vine, The Branch, and The Thorn

Scars to Glory

As I hugged him, my fingers traced down his back and felt the gaping hole where his right shoulder blade was. I pulled away, meeting his gaze with shock.

"No...what happened?"

I reached out and touched the missing wing, my fingers tracing over the smooth scars where feathers used to be. Trose let out a deep sigh, his eyes still downcast.

"This war gnaws at the very soul of the land, Isaac," the old guardian rasped, his hand clamped down on my shoulder like a rusty vice. "We'll need to make hard choices, lad. We might lose folk dear to us, aye, and there'll be temptation at every turn. But we can't give in! We need fierce resolve to see this through, and come out the victors in the end!"

My voice cracked as I finally blurted out the question, "How in the world did you survive the dragons?"

King Triton, sprawled on his throne like a beached whale with a crown. A sly grin stretched across his weathered face as a hearty laugh, like a cannon blast, echoed through the hall. "Avast there, matey!" he boomed. "Looks like ol' Chompy managed to fish you outta the drink after all, eh? Who knew the grumpy fella had a heart of gold beneath those barnacles?" He winked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Seems the sea had other plans for you today."

Trose turned his gaze towards the king, a glint of amusement in his eyes despite the gravity of our situation. His wings ruffled slightly as he shifted his weight.

"I fancy a guid fish, but, that was a wee bit too big, old friend."

Trose's eyes met mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us before turning to face Maridel, who had approached with a mixture of concern and admonishment etched on her features.

"Trose, you stubborn fool," she chided gently, "You should be resting, not gallivanting about with reckless abandon."

"Maridel, ye know as well as I do that restin' is for the weak. There be no time to waste in this war." He said.

She reached out a hand to gently touch the scars that marked his feathered skin, her touch light and almost reverent.

"You are a reminder of our resilience, Trose, your presence here is a testament to the strength we all must find within ourselves to face the challenges ahead."

Prince Liamaris sauntered over to Trose, his royal swagger barely containing a mischievous glint in his eye. With a playful whack of his tail against Trose's already-battered arm the old guardian winced in pain. "No need to handle the old guardian like a flower, now do we? You're the one keeping this whole realm from fallin' apart, ain't you?"

Trose chuckled under his breath, a rumble that mixed annoyance with amusement. He winced as he shifted his injured arm, then flicked his gaze to the prince for a brief moment. Finally, his eyes met mine, a silent promise passing between us.

I bent down to pick up my armor from the ground, carefully putting it on piece by piece. As I reached for my helmet, I noticed that Trose's feather was missing.

"Where is it?"

The Oak of Truth approached us with a rumble, holding out the feather in his hand. "It nearly got lost in the sea of Eden trying to find its way back to the rightful owner."

With trembling hands, I place the helmet on my head and take the feather from Oak. It radiates with a bright, otherworldly glow, just as it did on the day Dove gifted it to me. Trose's eyes widen in recognition as he gazes upon the feather, his expression filled with confusion and sorrow.

"This is all I could manage to grab from the mountains of Bashan, figured it was the least I could do," I murmur, holding up the item. "Been wearing it close ever since, ya know, to remember you by. And well, I was hopin' you wouldn't mind if I kept hold of it."

Trose hesitates, his weathered face reflecting the turmoil within him. "I am no longer the warrior I once was, lad," he rasps, placing a hand over his battle-scarred chest. "The Dragons saw to that. But if it is still your wish to honor me, then so be it."

With trembling hands, he takes the feather from me and holds it close to his heart without saying a word. 

My heart ached at the sight of Trose, my once formidable guardian, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. His battered body and defeated spirit tore at my soul, begging for a way to restore him. A primal roar built in the pit of my stomach, fueled by an unbreakable belief that there had to be a way to make him whole again.

As Trose held the feather to his heart, a sudden violent wind began to form around him. The air crackled with energy as his body started to emanate a soft, warm glow. His wounds seemed to heal before my eyes, and his feathers shimmered with renewed vitality. The transformation took hold of him completely as he stretched out a majestic wing. In an awe-inspiring display, another new wing emerged from his body, completing the transformation before my very eyes.

Maridel gasped in awe, her eyes widening as she witnessed Trose's metamorphosis. The wind whipped around us, carrying with it a sense of ancient power that seemed to pulse through every fiber of Trose's being. I felt a surge of hope and courage bloom within me as I watched him become something more magnificent than I could have ever imagined.

The Oak of Truth's deep voice rumbled beside me. "This is the true form of your guardian, my boy".

Trose extended the feather towards me, gazing at it intently before speaking. "Your faith has healed me, Isaac." He carefully reattached the feather to my helmet and declared, "And now, we fight!" I returned his smile and saluted him with a raised hand. "For Zion," I said. Trose turned to the other warriors who had gathered in the chambers, let out a fierce scream, and shouted, "For Zion!"