Soren peered up through the branches at the strangers. He could feel the tension even from the ground as they squared off against his father and brother. He trembled.

First flight, first fight, all in the same night, his nerve-wracked thoughts made him want to churr. And bring up a pellet. He snapped back to attention as the smaller owl screeched, and just before the fight broke out, he heard a screaming reply, one that made his gizzard clench.

It was his mother's pain-racked cry.

Before he could even think, Soren burst into flight. The screeches clamored through his earslits as he flew, faster than any owl could have ever flown. Branches whipped and stung him until he finally rose above the canopy, blood running down his face. The Albayn Palace rose before him as his mother's scream cut off suddenly. A flurry of owls with silver faces burst from the sleeping hollow, but Soren jostled past them, shooting straight into the hollow. He landed hard, falling to his knees.

Wincing in pain, he looked up and his wings dropped against his sides, heavy as stones.

Merilla was on her back, struggling for breath. He couldn't make sense of it: just where he would bury his head when she would hug him a black hilt stuck out, so foreign in those soft white feathers. They were still white, not a hint of blood, but that hilt shone cold in the moonlight…

It didn't click, didn't make sense, until her beak clattered open. "Soren." Her voice was a hoarse croak. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Soreeeen!" Her call echoed the Tyto searching-cry, whistling and full of longing.

"Mum," he choked, blinking hard to clear his vision. She turned her head to meet his eyes. Strange, he never noticed that little dot by her eye, like a fleck of gold had slipped down from her crown feathers. Merilla's pain-fogged eyes softened when she met his.

"Eglantine. That's what I would have named her," she whispered, and looked back up at the ceiling. "They took her, Soren, they stole her…" She turned back to him, suddenly full of urgency.

"It wasn't who you'd think it was," she coughed, a drops of blood accompanying her words. "It-it was me… I thought they'd take her away, not to be married off… You've got to find her… you've got to, I was wrong… You can't blame him, it was my doing," she sighed. Soren hopped closer, tilting his head, desperate to hear a heartbeat… deafening silence met his earslits.

"No," he muttered. His voice was gritty. He leaned over, preening her crown feathers. "Mum… please." Only stillness, where once was the life-sound of Merilla Alba, answered him. Thoughts, wordless and running like a snow water-swollen river, raged through his head. The image of the silver heart faces gleaming in the moonlight…

Something burning coursed through his veins, his gizzard churned… he yanked the hateful thing from his mother's chest, and reeled back to fling it at the wall, but something stilled Soren's talon.

It was a three-pronged dagger with both sides of the hilt curving up into sharpened points on either side of the central blade. A white opal, shimmering with flecks of pink, green, and gold, was set in the pommel, and it all but blazed in the moonlight. Words, carved deep into the central blade, were filled with the deep crimson of his mother's blood.

"Blessed moonlight," he read, his voice shaking. He flipped it over, "Guide this cursed soul."

He started at the clicking of the dumbwaiter, the dagger clenched in his fist. It rattled to a stop and an iridescent pile of coils came into the light.

"M'lady? Soren?" a cry rang up the dumbwaiter shaft as Mrs. P slithered out, so hastily her scales scraped roughly on the polished floor. Her breath came in rattling pants, and her head roved all around, sightless eye-dents scouring the sleeping-hollow.

"Mrs. P," Soren choked, his throat dry and acrid. He clenched the dagger with all his might, color fleeing his knuckles. He blinked hard, tears filling his eyes. "Sh-she's gone! Mum…" The snake gave a small gasp.

"O my poor Mistress!" she hissed, her voice thick. Mrs. P shuddered. "And the egg! But sir! You must flee! I don't know how it happened, but the tree is catching fire! You must go now, warn your father and Kludd!"

Soren twitched, an electrifying light filling his eyes. "My father?" His voice was calm, the moments of peace between lightning and thunder. She said 'don't blame him'... I've been a coward too long, letting that owl make me cower under his wing… but this is it. He's gone too far, Soren thought. He could no longer be that little, quivering owlet he had started out the day as. He could no longer stand the tyranny of his father, the one who had treated him like racdrop from the day he hatched.

He could no longer be the spare of the Albayn palace.

Mrs. P lunged toward him, stretching her face up to his, desperation charging her words. "Yes, warn him! The fire, the egg, your mothe-" Soren winced, as his mother's white presence on the floor now pressed heavily on his chest.

Still, he forced a laugh, a humorless noise, and a shiver coursed down Mrs. P's body.

"Don't you see, Mrs. P? My father was the cause of this," Soren said, the pieces clicking neatly into place, "he had sworn all of us, his owlets, to an order, a powerful one, and Mum had even convinced him to include little Eglantine in it, just to save her from his frinking plan to pair her off with the first eligible nobleowl. This was all his doing." Soren's talons tightened on the dagger, its cool metal leeching warmth from his leg.

He swallowed hard, pushing down the sharp edge of doubt that had suddenly blossomed in his chest. What was it Da always said? 'Get some gallgrot', just before he would backtalon me… Soren gritted his beak, mentally steeling over his gizzard. Thank Glaux Kludd taught me some tricks, he thought. He tossed the dagger in the air, catching it with his other.

"Get out now, Mrs. P, you've done all you can," he said. His eyes traced the blade that still shone red with his mother's blood, "And now I must do all I can."


The snake fled to the outer staircase only moments before Soren heard the rapid wingbeats of Kludd and his da through the crackling of the growing flames. He tensed, his heart throbbing, loud as thunder in his earslits.

Heat blazed through the hollow, causing the air to waver around his hastily-shrouded mother. Soren forced his gaze back to the entrance, reining his thoughts back to tactics, as his father landed heavily on the branch outside. Noctus, his eyes locked on the form of his dead mate, didn't see the soot-smeared fledgling… Soren launched himself through the hollow, bloodied dagger shining hungrily in his talon, as his father's dark eyes widened shock.

He landed on Noctus hard, knocking him to the floor. The dagger was glittering at Noctus' throat before Soren was totally aware of what was happening.

"Soren," Noctus said, his throat-feathers brushing the blade, "What…"

"No more! Not another word!" Soren screeched gutturally. His eyes were locked on the pinned owl, that traitorous scum, the owl that instigated his mother's death through his foolishness…

With a fluttering Kludd was in the hollow. His face shone with horror, as he took in the sight of his brother: Soren, whose once pure-white face was a mask of congealed blood, whose dagger paused hungrily at his father's throat. "Soren, what in Glaux's name are you doing?!" His voice was high and tight with fear. "We've got to get outta here, and find… Mum…" Kludd fell silent as his gaze lit on Merilla. When he turned to look at Soren again, his expression was absolutely blank.

"It was all him Kludd! This... this sprinkin' turnfeather sold us out, and they killed Mum for it!" Soren hissed, his black eyes burning with rage, never leaving his father's contorted face.

"Son, please."

Noctus spoke the words quietly, in the tone reserved only for Kludd… the tone of a father. Soren hesitated, the blade sliding back a half inch. C'mon, you have to do this! Your life won't be worth two pellets if he survives! Soren's thoughts screamed, drowning out the fire, the stirring of wings, distracting him from the slashing jerk of one of Noctus' talons…

Something slammed into him from behind, pushing him over the lip of the hollow entrance, and the branches and sky spun in a sickening whirl. He couldn't scream when he slammed into a branch and felt a bone in his wing snap. With a thump and a rush of breath, Soren hit the ground.

He struggled to suck in air, and failed. His talons finally released the dagger, and it fell from his claws.

The flames flickered above him, clawing and tearing at the Albayn Palace. Ashes swirled around him and piled up in the corners of his vision, thickening, slowly obscuring the sight of glistening pink strands flying away from the tree. No, falling. Nestmaids jumping to safety.

He caught a glimpse of shadows of owls dancing up against the stars in a wave of sparks before his vision went dark.

Soren was unconscious when a set of battle-clawed talons scooped him up, up into the sky.