Darkest Before Dawn

by Jeb Radic

The conclusion to The Dawn of an Eclipse. Life has been peaceful although difficult for Flint since he fled from the retreat of the Glauxian Brothers. Life, however, has a way of disrupting peace and such happens when he is framed for a murder. Usurped from what little stability he had attained, Flint is now forced to face his inner demons or else lose himself to them.

1. Chapter 1

Author's Note

For those of you that have been with this story from the very beginning, I want to start by saying "Yes" this story is very much still alive and I am actively working on it as of this update (August 6th, 2014). Currently, I have 100,000 words written and am writing the last chapter. Updates should continue regularly and even if they don't and it looks as if I am no longer updating, I have set to alert my primary email account when I get a review, so feel free to drop one (painfully constructive or otherwise) if the mood strikes you.

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An aged book lies open on a stand as a light sprinkle of rain quietly graces the stone outside the dimly lit burrow. Long shadows radiate away from the flickering light, casting shifting hues of pale red and orange onto the yellowed pages covered with words and phrases scribed into existence long before the birth of owl history.

A Barn owl perched on the ground in front of the stand, lost in the words of the text.

Glaux, do not rebuke me in Your anger,

Nor chasten me in Your wrath.

Be gracious to me, O Glaux, for I am pining away;

Heal me, O Glaux, for my bones are dismayed.

And my scroomsaw is greatly dismayed; But You, O Glaux - how long?

Return, O Glaux, rescue my scroomsaw;

Save me because of Your lovingkindness.

For there is no mention of You in death;

In Hagsmire who will give You thanks?

I am weary with my sighing;

Every night I make my nest swim,

I dissolve my perch with tears.

My eye has wasted away with grief;

It has become old because of all my adversaries.

There was a quiet rustling as the pages of the book were turned. The owls eyes slowly were moving over sections of the old psalm as he solemnly advanced to the beginning of another equally ancient prayer.

Be gracious to me, O Glaux, according to Your lovingkindness;

According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity

And cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions,

And my sin is ever before me.

Against You, You only, I have sinned

And done what is evil in Your sight,

So that you are justified when You speak

And blameless when when You judge.

The owl skipped several lines.

Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;

Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Make me to hear joy and gladness,

Let the bones which you have broken rejoice.

Hide Your face from my sins and blot out my iniquities

Create in me a clean heart, O Glaux.

The owl skipped several more lines, moving his eyes over the page until he came to the line that held the most intense meaning to him.

Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O Glaux...

The owl trailed off before finishing the entire line.

He closed his eyes, "Deliver me from bloodguiltiness." The words rolled through his mind summoning images of violence and death elicited by his very own talons. He pulled a set of them up off of the floor and stared blankly at them, thoughts eluding him and unable to be summoned over the heavy tides of memories. All that could enter his mind was that he had caused suffering and death, and that there was nothing he could do about it.

Letting his mind fall back to the old book of psalms, the owl found slight consolation that somewhere, sometime, there was another creature who must have done terrible things and felt remorse for what he or she had done. But the comfort was menial at best.

He walked over to the burrow's opening, picking up a two day old pellet and throwing it out once he got there. Watching it plummet the distance from the cliff face where his stone burrow rested, he tracked the pellet's fall all the way to the ground. He was tempted to go hunting, for he had not eaten anything substantial since he had yarped that particular pellet some days ago. Instead lethargy took over.

Climbing back into his nest, the owl closed his eyes. He really did want to go back outside and fly in the night. Surely this weather would have some good wind patterns to pick up on. However, his entire body felt sluggish from the impedance of his terrible mood.

Rolling onto his side in the nest so he could adjust some of the moss and twigs composing its lining, the owl thought to himself, It is better if I don't go outside anyway, making reference to his fear of hurting any owl he might come into contact with.

It was an empty fear in all truth. He had not lost his temper since a few weeks after he had been admitted to the care of the Glauxian Brothers coming on a year ago. Even then, he had not actually killed an owl since he was with the Pure Ones.

The owl knew these facts and tried to keep them in the front of his mind, but his gizzard would not register them.

Rolling back onto his stomach, the owl forced himself more tightly into the nest. He slowly took a scanning look around his burrow. Half finished helmets and battleclaws in need of completion adorned several racks lining the walls. In another wall, a small tunnel lead to his workshop that held more battlegear and his blacksmithing tools in addition to his stockpile of metal. Next to the tunnel's entrance was a book shelf holding the owl's personal library, and next to that was the book of psalms he was just reading. Letting his gaze continue to wonder, it finally stopped on a small but well sealed metal container.

The owl let out a sigh as a rush of guilt flooded him. It felt wrong to have just been reading such contrite and heartfelt words while plotting the death of an owl. It would have felt worse if he had actually been begging for forgiveness, but he was beyond that point, he would never let himself do it. He was unworthy, he was not worth the trouble to Glaux. He could never ask for forgiveness while he himself could never forgive the things he had done, the things he planned on doing.

So he stared on at the small metal container, thinking of its contents - a fine, dull black powder. When it comes into contact with any part of a creature, the microscopic spores that comprised it will take root and sprout a terrible fungus that will work its way into the creature's body tissue and cause an excruciatingly slow death.

It was the deserved retribution for the owl who killed the High Tyto and who destroyed the fighting spirit of the Pure Ones. It was the death Soren murderer of Kludd deserved.

The owl stared silently at the bag, savoring the image of that moment when Soren lay on the ground writhing in pain, slowly succumbing to death. A thousand times, the owl replayed the images, imagining what crushing things he will say to Soren, what terrible things he might do to him. Would he let the lethal fungus do its work unimpeded, or will he mutilate Soren's body as he is dying, slowly cutting him to pieces while he is still able to feel pain? Or maybe he would slowly burn him alive, setting hot coals on his face and body, then cutting him open and placing them inside him after all his skin had burned away.

The latter idea sounded much more painful and also much more fitting considering what the Guardians made the High Tyto do to his face. "Soren will pay for the crimes of the entire kingdom of Ga'Hoole, he will pay for making The Pure One think I was his enemy." The owl beaked to himself.

The elation of his boiling anger and the promise to himself that he would kill Soren in the worst way possible gave the owl a blissful diversion from his depression. But the crushing sadness soon fell upon him again as the implications of his thoughts began to make themselves real.

Several minutes passed before he tucked his head under his wing, hoping that a long period of sleep would unshackle him from the oppression of his recent melancholic depression. Somewhere, he quietly wished that he would just die in his sleep and not be burdened with another day of subjection to everything that was wrong with him and his life. But somewhere he knew that if he were to die, his scroomsaw would certainly go directly to hagsmire.

The blissful fringes of sleep were curling around the owl, promising freedom from depression should dreams not give way to daymares of intense terror. But just as escape was materializing, a sound at the burrow entrance took the owl from the netherworld between sleeping and waking and threw him back into the ailing world of consciousness.

"Flint. What are you doing here sleeping this time of night?"

In his nest, Flint took his head out from under the narrow slit between his wing and body to see who it was, though the voice he had already recognized.

"Felic?" Flint replied, his heart lightening a little just to see the face and hear the voice of another owl.

"Hey, Flint." Felic began cautiously, "It's been a while since I last saw you out. Are you okay?"

"I am fine." Flint replied in a fictitiously chipper mood whose intensity surprised him.

"Are you sure?" Felic asked, knowing that Flint is never as chipper as he sounded just then. "You're not brooding a nest again, are you?" Felic carefully joked in his normal lighthearted demeanor.

Flint managed a very subtle smile. Felic always knew what to say when he was angry or upset. The way he referred to 'brooding a nest' was actually a gentle way of commenting on Flint's emotional breakdowns - the three or so instances that Flint had slipped into almost suicidal depression.

"No. I'm fine." Flint commented, not wanting to worry Felic, "I just need to sleep." Flint then tucked his head under his wing again, trying to signify that it was okay for Felic to leave.

But it was hardly in Felic's character to let Flint be miserable. They had always been good friends - such good brothers - and they both have been through a lot together which strengthened their bond of brotherhood further. After the Battle of the Burning, Felic himself had several flashbacks where he had spent hours at a time believing he was still in battle with the Guardians. Flint spent the entire time during each of Felic's periods of insanity at his side trying to bring him back from his terrible experiences.

Both owed each other from when they helped the other through the terrible experiences. As they helped each other, their debt to the other was never repaid. Instead, they mutually owed the other their life over many times, and their debt of service only continues to grow.

"Flint, come on." Felic said, taking Flint's wing into his grip and giving a gentle tug to get out of the nest, "Don't make me drag you."

Flint pulled his head up from its warm niche and sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"You've been in this hollow for over five nights, and I've gotten the feeling that the measly little bits of food I've been bringing you has been all you have been eating." Felic said matter of factly in a flat and serious tone. "I'm intervening."

A shudder of nostalgia ran through Flint. Occasionally, Felic's manner of speaking and voice matched up perfectly with that of Eric's even though their personalities were polar opposites. Flint looked distantly at Felic for several seconds in a complete silence as he remembered the wise old owl.

Felic, disturbed slightly by his adopted brother's odd look, asked, "What is it?"

"Oh," Flint replied returning to reality, "You just reminded me of your grandfather."

There was nothing that could compliment Felic more, or Flint for that matter, than to be compared to Eric or Amelia. But with the thought of their deaths his chipper mood faded. Felic quietly corrected Flint, "Our grandfather, Flint. He was yours too." He took a few moments of silence, "It was so hard losing them, our grandparents I mean."

"I know." Flint replied silently.

"But hey!" Felic picked back up his normal mood, "We're going to go some place fun."

"I'd prefer to stay here." Flint said coldly.

"Well I'm not gonna let you." Felic replied, humorously matching his inflection to that a little chick would use. "Now come on." He said moving over to the hollow's opening.

Flint let out a bemused churring laugh. "You're making me miserable trying to keep me from being miserable." Despite his words, though, he felt a little bit better now that Felic was here to take his mind off of his worries.

Felic just shook his head and flew out of the hollow.

Knowing that he would be back to get him should he not follow, Flint followed Felic out.

They lifted into the air and were flying above the thick forest comprising the Forest of Tyto. Flint was immediately aware that Felic was leading him to the center of population just a league away.

After the war with the Pure Ones was over, many owls returned back to the Tyto Forest after fleeing from the reach of the Pure Ones. Much was true about the other kingdoms and their respected owls, but the Pure Ones had tapped into the population of the Tyto Forest more aggressively than any other kingdom. Once they were gone, the almost decimated population rebounded quickly as owls returned home in a mass migration, the scale of which has never been seen before.

With a power vacuum left by the fall of both the Pure Ones and St. Aegoleous, many of the returning owls requested that some form of government and militia be organized to prevent the rise of such terrible forces again. Fledgling kingdoms arose across the whole of the southern kingdoms, hailing from their respected territory, but calling all owls their own neighbors and friends. The one Flint and Felic were a part of was one of the largest. Well over one hundred owls. Not much to look at, but they had potential.

Indeed, potential enough that the monarchs of the Great Tree itself accepted the kingdom's petition for not only sovereignty as a kingdom, but that the two rulers of the Ga'Hoole tree request members of their home court in the Northern Kingdoms to train the rulers of this kingdom to rule with wisdom, honor, and Ga'. After that, word spread of the Great Tree's existence. Myths became fact in the eyes of all owls, though many already knew of the Guardians' existence because of the war with the Pure Ones. The Legends of the Guardians still existed, if anything they were amplified as the Guardians were elevated to the status of saviors.

"Frinkin racdrops..." Flint murmured angrily, "I splat in your direction." Still, even as much as he hated the Guardians, he could not help but admire them. "Maybe in another life I could dream of you as every owl seems to..." Flint conceded at first but then his temper flared and he murmured in a hurt tone, "But maybe in another life you could have not killed everyone I know!"

Down below, Flint could see a small lantern lighting a vine and wood bridge between two hollows in two separate trees. It meant they were getting closer towards the hub of activity for the region.

There were bridges other than just those connecting the two trees, creating an extensive network ahead linking dozens of hollows to each other. In normal situations, such a construction would have been pointless seeing that owls fly; however, these connections acted like the tunnels in the Great Ga'Hoole tree letting owls easily walk from one destination to another and carry a decent sized load of goods loaded in baskets or leather botkins. The network of interconnected links worked out well because some of the owls that had returned had picked up trades while they were away, some learning to weave at the Ga'Hoole tree, or scribe at the Glauxian Brothers retreat, or tan leather in the Northern Kingdoms.

Flint himself had picked up blacksmithing and several other trades and became a kind of Ryb. Not a Ryb in the Ga'Hoolian sense where he played a role in the kingdom's politics, nor does he have any of the associated respect. However, he does have a small teaching role, being one of several owls in the kingdom that will teach reading, writing, and other trades to owls should they ask. Though, it should be noted that very few owls actually approach him asking to be taught.

Indeed, he is almost an outcast. Most, if not all, the owls in the small kingdom detest him to an extent due partially to his torn visage but more so with him being a former Pure One.

There is a well warranted stigma against the Pure Ones, especially in the forest of Tyto. So even though he has never directly said he was once a member of the Union, the owls all around him have picked up enough information to know indeed that he once was one. Because he has been relatively docile and very helpful to the fledgling Kingdom of Tyto, they try to hide their distaste for him, but it is clearly seen by the way every owl shrinks back away from him. At least while he has owls he is teaching to write, read and use fire he has a captive audience. Often times they will at least end up neutral towards him and he can approach them as a mentor approaches a student without incurring obvious revulsion, but it takes well over two weeks to get them to stop staring at the scarred side of his once torn up face.

Flint, having thought of his scar subconsciously touched it in flight and remembered the period of time after he had received it.

It had been just over ten months since the Battle of the Burning. Since then, the wound on the side of his face scarred over and only a very thin layer of down had come back in at best. Little else has changed though, when it comes to Flint's state of being. He suffers daily from his past, and he holds a deep, irrational hatred for the Guardians.

However, there have been many instances where Flint nearly went back to the Glauxian Brothers. Their lifestyle seemed so idealistic to him, but he could never feel like he was good enough to even dare show his face there again.

Instead, once he and Felic had fled the retreat, they headedsouthward first to the Beyond the Beyond where Flint learned a little about blacksmithing. Then about six months ago they came to this region of the Forest of Tyto where they stayed for a few weeks in the ruins of an old Otherian structure, returning to the roots of their species that gave Barn owls their name.

It turns out that the ruins were the very ones that now serves as both the monarchs' residence and as the central hub for this kingdom's owls.

Returning to the present, Flint saw the network of linked trees ahead and felt a flush of pride, knowing that he was in part responsible for its construction. He forged many of the pieces of metal that were used to help hold it together by firmly mounting the vines to the tree. He even had the brilliant idea to make break away links in the network that will snap should a tree fall so it does not tear down the entire infrastructure.

The rain was beginning to pick up, and Flint was about to get drenched. Barn owls naturally lack some of the oils that other owls have that help seal out moisture, but Flint's feathers seemed to be ten times worse and would absolutely get drenched in the least bit of water. So he hated being in the rain. Flying over an ocean was many times worse because it is so moist.

"Where are we going Felic?" Flint asked impatiently.

Turning around and smiling wryly at his brother, Felic asked, "Don't you know me better than that? Come on. I'll give you one guess, and one guess only."

Flint sighed and arched his head in a sweeping motion. With eyes locked unable to move in their sockets, it was the owlish equivalent of rolling ones eyes. "We're not going to Griedawl's are we?"

Felic smiled but didn't respond. Instead, he kept flying and Flint followed.

Soon they had reached their destination; Felic and Flint began descending towards the ruined castle. One of the external walls had a large cavity in it, large enough to very comfortably fit several dozen owls, but yet still small enough to be cozy. Landing on a small platform just outside of it, Felic led Flint in.

As Flint looked around the artificial hollow, the floor of which was layered thick with pine needles and the walls draped heavily with moss, he noted there were over fifty owls. Half the kingdom was here.

To anyone not from this region, they would describe the place to be like a grog tree, but even to the most strict teetotaler in the area - Flint - this place was a respectable center of social activity. Everyone except Flint was a regular here, even if they did not have a shot of bingle juice or ale whenever they came. It was a place to come at the end of the night and socialize, a place tell everyone about how you are doing.

As much as Flint liked Felic for trying to cheer him up by bringing him here, he hated being in the place. It currently reminded him how lonely he was. It took Flint great restraint to keep himself from turning around and leaving.

Stepping in, Flint cast his gaze around several of the groups of owls huddled around pieces of wood with flat tops serving as tables for nutshell cups of drinks. The volume of the room dropped slightly and Flint caught several discrete glances in his direction. Felic failed to notice because moments later, a group of his acquaintances raised their voices and beckon him over. He happily walked over and greeted them loudly, all slapping each other on the back with their wings. Flint meandered aimlessly over to an elongated piece of flat wood and wedged tightly in between a Great gray and Great Horned owl.

It's never hard for Flint to find a seat, really. Wherever he happens to go to, the crowd of owls 'happens' to thin out. It's fine with him, most of the time. Flint is content to stay alone and watch the other owls socialize; he feeds off their happiness and friendship and uses it to sustain him where he has none.

He watched two mates blissfully in love gently nozzling each other, seeing their newly fledged chicks run up to them and snuggle under their wings, a group of lifelong friends filled the room with churring as Felic tells some ridiculous wet poop joke. This isn't the despicable crowd one would expect to find at a grog tree, and watching them is usually all Flint needs. He has learned there is no need for interaction, but today is different. All the family, happiness, and friendship reminded him of how little he has and it only hurts him more to see them.

In the few seconds that it took for Flint to think of all of this, he had gained ample wing room. He looked across the elongated piece of wood at the rack of nutshells, small glass bottles, and metal containers containing drinks, half of which were bingle juice, grog, or some other intoxicant. Even in his current state of misery, Flint did not understand why any owl would want to drink something that would increase the chances that he or she would lose control of him or herself.

"Flint, how cha' doing?" The greeting from a ruffled sounding voice caught his attention.

Flint looked up at the Lesser Sooty who had spoken, "Oh, hey Griedawl."

Griedawl, an aged owl who was a long time friend of Flint, maintained this establishment and made good fairs selling drink and cooked food. He and his mate, Docia, had faced trial in the Northen Kingdom's tribunal for fighting with the Pure Ones, but they received no punishment. It turns out that they were two of the many Tyto owls that were forced into service during the War of Purity, and they were ruled to have been victims of the Pure Ones. This being the case, they were sent home, and Griedawl eventually opened this establishment to support himself, seeing that he was unable to fly and therefore hunt having lost a wing.

Now, he is friends to all and about half the kingdom trusts him with their deep, personal secrets.

Felic meanwhile, ever the charmer that he was, is friends with most of the empire as well. Even though he had openly confessed to have been a Pure One, he was accepted as a reformed owl who had an unfortunate period in his life. He even is an active training officer in the local militia who paradoxically is a gizzard resistor that yet also has no qualms training others in combat. For his service to help maintain peace, he is held in high regard.

"Not that I ever get any thanks for making some of the weapons and armor." Flint griped silently to himself.

Why was he singled out to be hated and feared?

Flint shook his head. He was getting mad at everyone, including his two and only friends, and that was something he did not want to ever happen.

"Do you think you can bring me some of your new blend of tea?" Flint asked Griedawl who was across the counter, "I'll bring a rabbit pelt by tomorrow to pay for it. I know how much you like those."

Griedawl churred, "Flint boy. As much you done for everyone, I ain't gonna let you pay. We're the ones who should be paying you." He then turned around and walked over to a back room to begin brewing the tea for Flint.

Flint sighed, then scanned the room for a time having no one to talk to. His eyes fell upon a certain Barn owl and he stopped in his tracks.

She was perched alone at a piece of wood serving as a table not too far from the counter Griedawl served his drinks and food at. Flint taught her - along with a group of about ten other owls - how to read, write, and use basic navigation techniques. There was something about her that set Flint's gizzard aflutter, though he would never admit it and would force the feeling away. Her voice, how she was very passionate about whatever she was working on simply because she wanted to do a good job on it, her love for her parents and siblings, the fact that she never condoned killing no matter the circumstance.

Shaking his head and trying to remove her from his thoughts, Flint realized the only way he knew what she was like was because he had overheard her talking to her friends on occasion. He was only a teacher to her even though they were the same age. Frankly, though, many of the owls the Flint tutored and gave knowledge to were older than him, not younger.

Still, a month ago she had taken the initiative to approach him and ask him a question about magnetism. It almost caused his heart to skip a beat when she did it. Not because of infatuation or attraction, Flint had not even noticed he felt that way until just now. No, his heart skipped a beat because an owl approached him out of her own free will, because she wanted to do so.

It was not like she had a choice to learn reading from him though. When anyone wished to learn writing or reading, their name were placed in lotteries and pulled at random to determine where they would go for the sole purpose that Flint would actually have some owls to teach. Every owl that decided to learn from any of the several scholars present in this kingdom took the risk that their name would be drawn by Flint and they would be put under him. It was a one in five chance, great odds really. But someone would eventually end up learning under him.

Still, though, she willingly spoke to him.

Flint tried to look away, but his gaze and thoughts kept drifting back to her.

She was very beautiful. A strong flier, her muscle tone was visible by the subtle ways her feathers laid over her body. But she was very feminine too. A white face with soft features, brilliant hues on her primaries, and most of all, thick speckling on her white stomach and chest feathers - something very attractive in female Barn owls.

For one brief moment, he was tempted to go over and say 'Hello', but he quickly changed his mind. He knew what would happen if he were talk to her, but he could not help but imagine how intoxicating it would be if he could simply go over and have a normal conversation, whatever that may be, with her.

There was a bemused laugh from Flint's side that startled him; it was Felic. "Aww, Flint!"

Turning his head with alarm to look at his brother, Flint saw that his tea had already been placed on the counter and Griedawl was leaning up against it nearby smiling at Flint.

Feeling the feathers on his face compress from embarrassment, Flint was struck with the strange realization that, in the first time in his life, he had been attracted to a female and he had been caught in the act.

Felic gave Flint a playful nudge, "You like her, don't you?"

The feathers on Flint's face compressed more and he quickly turned to drink his tea. He immediately wished he hadn't because his evasiveness just confirmed to both Felic and himself that he had taken a fleeting interest in her. "She once was learning to read and write under my supervision, that's all. "

"Don't deny it Flint! You like her." He retorted excitedly, but quiet enough that he wasn't heard by the owl they were talking about.

Flint looked at Felic knowing how many females he had courted. Ten, maybe fifteen. It seemed as if he got a new shadow, aka a new female, with every second week. To a point, Flint was bitter about this because all he wanted was to not be rejected by every owl that sees him. It didn't matter whether the owl was female or male, prospective mate or not, Flint only wanted to be able to talk to them as friends. It made him sick to no end that Felic could go out and magnetize females to him just to decide two weeks later that he didn't like her as a companion and stop courting. Something like that was never Flint's choice.

"Well, it doesn't matter." Flint said coldly while taking a sip of the scalding hot tea, "I won't be able to get near her without her rearing back away from me."

"Just give it a try, Flint." Felic prodded. "It can't go as badly as you think it can."

Felic's insistence was getting on Flint's nerves. He angled his head so the side of his scarred face was clearly visible and glared at Felic through the eye in that side of his head.

Stopping and becoming serious for a moment, Felic looked Flint in the eye, clearly seeing the hurt feelings present within. Around his eye on the scarred side of his face was a formation of dark gray down in the formation of a loose, oblong ring. It had grown back in in all but the spots that were most injured, but a small patch of whitish pink skin could clearly be seen in the center and where the metal from the fireclaws had torn into his flesh. Even then, where the down had come back in, it was ruffled unnaturally where the skin beneath had healed improperly and the three long slashes through the patch of down made it clear that the wound or war.

Felic understood what Flint was implying.

"Besides..." Flint said dejectedly started but trailed off.

"Besides what?" Felic innocently asked.

"What would we talk about? My parents? Too painful. My chickhood? I bet she would love to hear about the Pure Ones. What about my period of instability at the Glauxian Brothers? Let's let her and everyone else know about everything that is wrong with me. How's that sound?" Flint whispered in an angry but yet extremely crass and sarcastic tone. He was not angry at Felic so much as at himself because his life is so miserable. He immediately felt guilty for speaking so harshly to Felic who was only trying to help him. "I'm sorry." He said heartfeltedly, drooping his head and closing his eyes.

"It's fine, Flint." Felic said thoughtfully, "Just let loose, Flint. Be yourself."

"Don't you dare ever tell me to let loose. You know what happens when I do that. I pray to Glaux that never happens again!" Flint hostilely replied.

"Sorry, bad choice of words." Felic said cautiously, taken aback by Flint's reaction but understanding perfectly why he acted like that, "Just go over there and see what happens."

"No." Flint said flatly. "I already know what will happen."

Smiling and churring, Felic nudged Flint with a wing, "Aw come on. Go talk to her."

"No." Flint again replied.

Felic's tone dropped into one that was absolutely serious, but his face said the opposite as he spoke, "Don't make me drag you two together."

The outrageous suggestion made Flint churr a little bit, but, knowing Felic, that yoinks owl could very well do what he just suggested. Flint conceded, for the good of both him and the female, Sylvan. "Fine." He said bemusedly.

Felic smiled widely, "Good for you. Now go on."

Backing up out off of his perch, Flint began navigating the short distance to where the female, Sylvan, was perched. On his way, Flint's heart picked up speed as the notion of 'what if' entered his mind. What if she actually is not afraid of me? Flint's chest tightened in anticipation of finding out, of the pure joy that will infuse itself inside of him if she actually responds well. What if I don't end up having to live my life alone..." The feeling was intoxicating as it consumed his previous worries. For once, Flint actually had an optimistic outlook on the outcome.

Suddenly, the wonderful feelings fled Flint as he realized that he had not actually thought of anything to say to her. He was well over half way to where she was perched and she had just seen him coming. He mistakenly made eye contact with her, so he could not take the time to step aside and think of something to say. He was going to have to think of something in the few seconds he had.

His mind immediately skidded to the topic of magnetism. He had borrowed to her a book to read on the subject after she had asked several questions about it, leading him to think it would be a good learning experience for her to read a technical review on the subject.

By now, Flint was nearly there and Sylvan was eying him with a very perplexed look that said. "Are you actually here?" It would be the same kind of look as if she had seen a vole with miniature eagle wings fly past her a hundred yards up in the air.

"Hello." Flint said warmly. Several seconds crawled by without Sylvan giving a 'Hello' or any other greeting in response, leaving him feeling uneasy. But he covered up his nervous feelings and continued. "I was wondering how you were coming along reading the book on magnetism I gave you."

The look of perplexion faded but was replaced by one of subtle nervousness. "Oh, I'm coming along fine." She said, her voice revealing her nervousness more than her facial expression.

Flint waited a moment to hear if she was going to say anything else, but she didn't, leaving him with little to continue the conversation with. "Well, that's good." Flint commented. "Is there any particular part that you liked a lot or found very interesting? I myself found the part on the magnetic field lines very intriguing."

Stiffly nodding, Sylvan shifted her stance. "Oh, uh... That part was very interesting." She quickly said, though it sounded more of a question than a comment.

"Yes..." Flint said. This had turned out to be a one sided conversation where he was forced to desperately try to keep it going on his own. "Maybe she was not so interested in magnetics as I thought..." Flint silently added to himself. He quickly changed the subject before the flow of the so called conversation crashed completely. "You know, I first read a copy of that book at the Glauxian Brothers Retreat. They are very intriguing owls,"

Sylvan's heartbeat was increasing and she had backed away from Flint a half step. "Oh, yes. I would imagine they are." Her face was showing fear like that of prey that has been trapped. Flint just wanted to talk, to learn how to socialize, but this owl was terrified of him. With much difficulty, he tried to continue the conversation and hopefully show this owl that he only wanted to get to know her.

"Yes. Very devoted in their beliefs. Very honorable..." Flint responded, praying that she would engage him in conversation. Instead, it was her gaze that engaged him, and there it sat frozen in dismay onto the scarred side of his face.

For some reason, this sent a terrible pang of pain through Flint and he defensively turned his head to the side so that damaged part of his face was not able to be seen. Very hurt by this, Flint spoke in a quiet and distant tone, "The Brothers also know more about healing than I will ever be able to understand... More than I will ever be able to repay them for..." Flint added unable to make eye contact with Sylvan.

Sylvan, for the first time in the conversation showed an emotion other than fear and nervousness; she showed a look mixed with pity, sympathy, and remorse for hurting Flint.

"I... Just wanted someone to... Talk to." Flint quietly said, keeping his head turned away and not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you Sylvan... I'll go."

"No... I.. I.. I'll go." Sylvan quickly stuttered. While Flint was trying to engage in conversation, Sylvan had shifted her position so she had a strait shot for the exit. So before Flint could even react, she practically jumped to the exit.

Flint did not even bother to watch her leave. He simply let his wings droop and he closed his eyes as he realized his failure to even be able to talk to another owl. When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked at the exit and saw Sylvan was still standing there. Their eyes met and she quietly beaked the words "I'm so sorry." Her expression was remorseful, but she then turned and fearfully flew away, crushing Flint a second time.

He stood there, depression enveloping him in a tangible veil.

An eery silence had fallen over the room during Flint's time speaking with Sylvan, mostly because the other owls who saw the interaction were surprised to see Flint even trying to make conversation with anyone that was not Felic or Griedawl. Not noticing this, Flint slowly walked with eyes downcast back to where Felic had been perched.

Moving back in next to Felic, Flint cast him a hurt glance. He was mad at his brother for forcing him into that situation, though it was hard to stay angry because Felic was only doing what he thought was best for him. However, had Felic not have forced that confrontation, Flint could have kept his happy fantasy. He and Sylvan could have perched together, having a drink, perhaps sharing a vole for their meal, laughing and having a good time together. But in reality, that was impossible, and, subconsciously, that was the exact reason he did not want to go try to talk to her. For if he did, he would have had to face the cold reality and forever know that his happy imaginings could never be.

"Flint?" Felic asked in a concerned tone. "Are you okay?"

"I just need... some time alone." Flint's voice catched interrupting the flow of the sentence.

Respecting his brother's wishes, Felic nodded and walked off, leaving Flint to try to recover on his own.

But facing cold reality was exactly the sum of Flint's life, leaving him wondering why his world couldn't be warmed by friendship beyond the two owls who accept him. His whole life, he had felt like he was unloved. Even as a chick, he was always suspicious of Stellaris, thinking that she would steal his parents' love from him.

Images of his sister falling from the tree filled Flint's mind and questions that eternally haunted him surfaced once again. How could his parents abandon him so easily if they actually loved him? Did they even love him at all? It was at this time that Flint realized the reason he was afraid Stellaris would take his place in his parents' gizzards. He craved the feeling of being loved. He pined desperately for affection, something he knew he would never again receive.

Flint looked over at Felic's drink - a metal cup the size of a large walnut shell, filled to the brim with apple rum, Griedawl's strongest concoction. Suddenly, the supposed elation, happiness, and corresponding loss of control that bingle juice promised seemed far more appealing than his current reality, so Flint snatched the cup up and drained it in one gulp.

Gagging on the taste, Flint noted how putrid it was. How anyone could want to drink this for anything but the buzz was beyond him, but he felt like he would need a second cup.

"Griedawl." Flint said waiving a wing.

The owl walked over and looked at Flint. "Everything okay?" He asked.

The first brew of the apple rum settled like fire in Flint's gizzard "I want a cup of whatever that apple grog stuff is."

Griedawl was taken aback by Flint's request, but he did not deny it because he quickly returned with a cup filled with the putrid juice.

Practically snatching it from the table, Flint gulped it down much to Griedawl's dismay. "Flint, easy there, you're not a drinker. One cup drunk like that will... Oh racdrops, Ya' didn't drink two of dose', did you?"

Flint, gagging so hard he nearly yarped the juice back up, flatly commented. "Yes I did, but stick around if you want it back. I think you may just get your chance. It's coming up again..." He barely finished the sentence before a fountain of putrid smelling brown goo gushed forth from his beak, spraying out onto the table and floor creating small blobs of viscous brown glop. Much to Flint's surprise, he must have had some pellet material left over in his gizzard to mix with the drink to create such a mess.

"I'm sorry." Flint said, smacking his beak in an attempt to get the foul taste out of his mouth. "I will clean it up."

"No, Flint, you don't need to worry about it. You have enough weighing on your gizzard as it is." Griedawl responded.

"Thank you, Griedawl." Flint responded. He then moved over to an unoccupied table and looked blankly at the mess he had made, knowing that he only had a few more minutes of lucidity before he succumbed to the grog left in his gizzard. He eagerly anticipating having his troubles dissolve.

About two minutes had passed when a voice spoke from behind.

"What a disgusting mess. This place is just like the grog trees in the Beyond."

Flint about jumped out of his feathers when he realized another owl had perched at the table he was at. He quickly jerked his head about to look at the owl.

She laughed then cast a slow glance around the room, "Disgusting bingled wrecks, drinking in this putrid swig like hireclaws." She said in a cold, factual tone, but then her tone warmed up when she mets Flint's eyes, "Fortunately, I hear you are the respectable one around here to talk to."

Flint froze. He had just consumed strong bingle juice and he had absolutely no idea what it will do to him. Then, when an owl finally had the initiative to casually talk to him, here he is about to be incapacitated by the very thing this owl seems to despise. Slowly swallowing, Flint knew he had better say the right things fast before he was unable to do so. "Actually, many of the owls here are very respectable. This is not as much of a grog tree as a place of meeting, though I barely come here anyway."

The owl scanned his face as Flint awaited her response. Finally, she began in a reluctant tone, "Well, if a scholar like you says so... But I never liked the concept of this terrible elixir. Why anyone would give up their self control..."

Flint blinked. Never before had he met an owl that shared his belief about grog and bingle. It made it all the more difficult for him to explain himself to her, "Please, you have to understand something, though..." Flint began in an uneasy tone, "I may have just consumed far more grog than I think I can handle. It was my first, and hopefully, last time to drink this terrible stuff."

Even now, as Flint processed the look of repulsed disappointment in this owl's face, he could feel his concentration slipping. He was filled with a deep feeling of sadness, knowing that he might have just ruined his chance to talk to this owl. He desperately began racking his brain to think of something to add to his last statement, but before he could think of it or the other owl could respond, Felic had hurried over looking very exasperated. "Flint, Griedawl just told me you just drank two cups of the apple grog. Are you Yoiks!? Just one of those is enough to put me down for the night!" His voice was laced with frantic overtones.

"Don't worry, only about one cup actually stayed down." Flint looked down at his white chest feathers and realized that he had some of the brown sludge stuck on them. He reached up with a talon and flicked it off, "But I think I may have few more minutes of lucidu-tily... lucidillity... l-u-c-i-d-i-t-y." Flint finished, stuttering much to his dismay but finally sounding out the word with much difficulty.

She gave Flint a contemptuous glare, "What a bingled wreck you are. Nonetheless, I am forced to talk to you because I have been ordered to do so." She paused as she almost seemed to taste the negative emotions she felt towards Flint, "I represent a contingent of owls in the Beyond the Beyond that is scouting for smiths to hire. During an interview with a rogue smith he told me that you were an accomplished albeit young and inexperienced blacksmith and a scholar who has knowledge of magnetics. It turns out that your knowledge of magnetics is rumored to be extensive."

Flint nodded. "Yes it is."

"Good." The owl replied, "Then it may interest you that there is a very powerful magnetic phenomenon in the Beyond. I am not at liberty to disclose to you any details about it until you have agreed to help us study it; however, it is by far the largest and most powerful magnetic force ever encountered. If you agree to help my colleagues and I study this phenomenon, then you will be paid with your pick of our metal ores in addition to simply getting to see something very few have ever seen before."

Flint looked blankly at the owl for several seconds, taking great difficulty in understanding what she was saying. "Okay..." He finally said, "Okay, sorry, it's getting hard to concentrate, I'm sorry. But I am honored that my reputation... reputation, I mean, precedes me like this. Who else have you told about this magnetic phenomenon, whatever it is?"

"You are the first I have spoken with; however my colleagues have spoken with one or two other scholars. We want an owl who has considerable knowledge of magnetism so they will be able to help us figure out what exactly is going on. So far, though, everyone has turned down the offer."

"I may take you up on that." Flint said in a slurred tone. "But maybe you should talk with me about this tomorrow night because I am having a hard time concentrating on what you have to say. I am so sorry, but I think I should get back to my hollow as quickly as I can, I don't know how much longer I will be able to fly." Flint said, his speech even more heavily slurred.

The owl from the Beyond seemed to wilf slightly and it took her a moment to form her words, "You.. You're going to try to fly? While trufynkken? Flat Drunk?"

"Even if I have to take shelter under a rock, I'm not let'in myself around anone' while' imparr... iampari... impard... drunk..." His speech was getting worse. "But I'm go'in back to my hollow."

"I'm not letting you go back to your hollow, it's too far Flint." Felic said. "We'll go somewhere else."

"No! I'm gonna go t' my hollow." Flint said back with a raised tone, acting irrationally.

Flint and Felic argued for about a minute over whether or not he was going to fly the whole distance back to his hollow or rather just find a place sheltered from the rain where he could spend a few hours and maybe eat something to get the bingle to go away. Suddenly, three owls landed on the platform outside Griedawl's. They walked in and Felic failed to take any notice of them, but not Flint.

"Hey!" He yelled with fury. By this point, if any of the owls in the establishment were not watching Flint's crazed state, their attention was caught by his angry screech. "You there, on the right, with the messed up beak."

The owl looked at him with a state of utter perplexion before exchanging an equally perplexed look with his comrades that he landed with. Flint glared at him thinking, "I've put up with that owl for so long."

A few uneasy moments of silence passed before Flint broke them with an revenge filled, terribly slurred screech, "You killed my sister."

"What?" The owl asked incredulously.

"You heard me. You killed her."

The owl was shocked by Flint's actions, as well as the rest of the owls present including Felic. Defensively, the owl shook his head, "I don't know what you are talking about." He then in an insulting tone added, "Get your ugly face out of here, you're barely tolerable when not drunk."

The comment only served to enrage Flint, "Was my sister intolerabal too? Huh? As a Pure One you and your squad members mockin' her, makin' fun of her when you were ten times her age? All becauz' her down was black?"

The owl wilfed at Flint's accusations because they were true. He was one of the surviving Pure Ones and was indeed the tormenter of Stellaris. To have the whistle blown on him actually being a former Pure One risked him being rejected by every owl that knew. He was silent as Flint continued.

"Then when she finally defendehd' herself and messed up your beak, ya had to go kill her, didn't ya? Ya killed tha' only family I had left, tha only family that hadn't been taken from me!"

The owl gave a nervous glance around the room at the other owls, then back to Flint. "I never did any of that."

"Ya' frinkin' owl. I know you did it." Flint screeched drunkenly, "Your commanin' officah' thought it was yaur fault that she died, but dey just just couldn't pin nothin on anyone, but I know ya did it!"

The owl moved in close to Flint and quietly whispered, "Look, I admit to harassing her, but I never touched her afterwards. I broke my beak and that was it. Okay, I didn't ever get the chance to hurt her, so pipe down before you give my past away and I end up like you!"

"Flint." Felic stepped between him and the owl Flint was aggressive towards. In a quite tone that only Flint could hear, Felic reminded, "Remember the letter Eric wrote. It said she was alive. He couldn't have killed her."

In his drunken amnesia, Flint took advantage of the distraction Felic offered by reaching up and grabbing the other owl by the neck and pulling him into the floor. But Flint's coordination was so far off that he fell too and both of them ended up in a dazed state on the pine needles. Felic backed away and before any owls could restrain the fight, Flint's combatant had uprighted himself while Flint flopped around uncoordinatedly trying to get back to his talons.

The other owl grappled a set of talons into Flint's back to restrain him while he curled his other set into a fist. With one swift motion, he impacted the back of Flint's neck right on top of the spinal column rendering him temporarily paralyzed.

Dazed and confused, Flint screeched like a hagsfiend, spewing profanities and promises of death at the top of his lungs as the owl on his back continued to pummel him.

Finally, Felic, Griedawl, and several of the other owls present managed to restrain both of them.

Now in a completely delirious and nonfunctional state, Flint was dimly aware of the passage of time as he was being moved about, out of Griedawl's grog den, and into another room in the ancient stone masonry of the Other's ruins.