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regnumaves · 4 years ago

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Smoke Above Serenes [drabble]

((I got into a Mood(TM) today and decided to write about the Serenes Massacre. Consider it a prequel to “The Humans Will Pay”. Happy birthday, Tibarn.))

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This is a story of hatred and sin Written in the blood of our very own kin

“Smoke on the horizon!... Smoke above Serenes!”

Tibarn’s heart stops and eyes widen as he immediately drops whatever it is that he was doing - he has immediately forgotten what it was.

He sprints through the hallway together with all of his men who heard Janaff’s alarm.

Beautiful, innocent, peaceful and fair Never raise hand against others they swear

He knew. He had heard. Separatist though Phoenicis may be, the news reached them too, brought by spies and messengers. News of the assassination of the Begnion apostle. News of uncontrollable grief and rage sweeping through the nation. News of accusations thrown in all directions, particularly - as it usually goes with the beorc - at the laguz.

But, although he never trusted their kind to begin with, not even Tibarn thought they were that stupid.

What a naive, gullible, costly mistake.

His eyesight is far from that of Janaff, but he can see it - a pillar of smoke raised into the sky like a beacon. “We fly! Quick!” That is all he throws before he jumps out of the window. No plan, no preparation - there’s no time for that; he’s not a fool, he knows that even if they push their wings to the absolute limit, the flight to Serenes will take them at least half a day. He doesn’t even pick out who exactly is supposed to go - the order is issued at no one in particular.

But it doesn’t matter; everyone who was at the scene follows him, for Hawk hearts beat in sync with those of their Heron brothers.

Murderers! The humans of Begnion exclaim They gather, laugh and set Serenes aflame

By the time the laguz arrive at the scene, it’s late evening. Under normal circumstances, the Hawks would avoid flying at night, for their eyes usually fail them in the dark.

But these circumstances are all but normal; the flames rise above the trees, illuminating the sky, painting it in sickening shades of red and orange, calling out to Tibarn and his men as if showing them the way - come here, come quick, the feathers of your brothers are on fire--

For rumor and hearsay is all that they need For another’s crime all the Herons shall bleed

With no regards for his own safety, the king dives in between the trees, the other Hawks following without question. Once there, they split up. No instructions, no orders are necessary, they all know why they’re here.

The moment he descends into the hell that was made out of the once peaceful forest, he starts coughing, suffocating from the smoke, tears quickly welling up in his eyes and making it even harder to see - no, that’s not important, ignore it, get a grip, they need you, they’re counting on you, find the Herons, find the Herons--

But the cursed walkers are here too, they were here first; through the trees, Tibarn hears laughter he can only compare to that of demons, drunk with the sheer wild joy of burning, hunting, killing, destroying. And the shrill screams, melodious even in despair and death, falling silent one by one as bloodied human hands rise towards the sky in utterly misplaced, misguided retribution.

In all this pain and chaos, Tibarn loses his way, but his instincts do not fail him and his wings know to take him to the main altar. White feathers line the ground under him more and more, but he makes it just in time--

“REYSON!!”

The White Prince sharply turns back, celadon eyes blank and devoid of emotion. For a split second, the Hawk has a feeling that in his panic and stress, his friend fails to recognize him, but the sensation is brief; mouth wide open, gasping for air, the Heron holds out his hand, reaching out to Tibarn in despair -

and then he collapses.

O humans! Barbarians! You burned and you slew! The lives the Goddess grants mean nothing to you!

The king dashes towards him, his heart dropping, but relief comes over him when he feels Reyson draw breath. At the same time, two Hawk soldiers fly over to him.

“We found His Highness Lorazieh! He’s alive!”

Tibarn pants as he nods. Another coughing fit shakes his body-- but Reyson still lives. They must retreat. They have to get out of here before whatever lives they managed to save are also snuffed out.

More and more Hawks arrive at the altar, some carrying survivors. White and gray feathers fall everywhere - the pain, the distress, they are overwhelming. But the accursed human voices draw ever closer too; though the thought rips his heart into pieces, the Hawk King realizes that what lives they did not find are forfeit. If it comes to a fight here, no one will be saved.

It pains him, but he silences the voice in his head that cries out for blood.

“We go…! We have to go! Retreat!”

Do you really think that we will let this stand? How our brothers felt, you will soon understand

He doesn’t remember their way home well.

He remembers holding Reyson in his arms and he remembers the stunned silence of his men, only broken occasionally by laments as another brother breathed his last on someone’s back.

He remembers that every time it happened, he cradled the Prince closer, praying and begging for him to hang on.

He did.

By the time the dawn breaks and they make it to Phoenicis, he and his father are the only ones still alive.

We too destroy, burn, kill, give what is deserved For this senseless slaughter justice must be served

News spread quickly; the horrified Hawks gather, tears in many eyes, wide open mouths covered in shock, children weeping into their mothers’ wings as they watch the scorched bodies unloaded from the backs of Tibarn’s exhausted men.

Barely aware of what he’s doing, the king absentmindedly hands Reyson over to some soldiers that come running, gives orders on what rooms to prepare, bed, food, water, bandages--

before a wave of despair, exhaustion and defeat washes over him and he falls to his knees.

He breathes heavily, his eyes wide open, realization on what he had just done dawning on him now that the danger is gone and the stress and adrenaline wear off. His vision goes blurry - that’s tears in his eyes again, but not from smoke this time around.

This…

This really happened, didn’t it?

They’re gone. They’re really gone. All but two of them are gone.

Burned. Killed. Murdered for something they had nothing to do with. Slaughtered by the humans, those damned, cursed, idiotic miscreants, monsters, butchers, they do this and then they accuse the laguz of being nothing more than baseborn animals--

How could they

How dare they

They must

PAY

The rage does not let itself be contained in this smaller form of his anymore, the fury lighting up his eyes and pushing his body to transform against his will.

Raising his scorched wings to the sky, he lets out a harsh, deafening shriek, his wrath, anger and despair resonating through the air.

The singular voice soon turns into a cacophonous choir as soldiers and civilians alike all through Phoenicis respond, joining their king’s call.

You stole our brothers! Their lives, souls and home! Mistakes of the Goddess! Know despair! Begone!

#❁ all skies shall belong to me ; ic. ❁#❁ i will take this matter into my own hands ; drabble. ❁

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