Author's Note: Okay, I would just like to say that I completely forgot about this site. I did not give up on this story, I was simply submitting the chapters on a different site. Check out if you want to see some Silverwing art and other cool stuff. Note me if you want my username.
A little over a week had passed since the battle with his father, and Vulcan's wound had healed astonishingly fast. The royal surgeons had proven once again that they were not only masters of masonry, but of potions as well. The powerful mixtures that the surgeons had spread on the prince's shoulder had enabled him to fly again, but they had failed to disguise the cruel, jagged scar that marred his flesh. Against Vulcan's dark coat, the pale, damaged skin stood out greatly, and the fur showed no sign of growing back.
Resting on a ledge near the bottom of the pyramid, Vulcan stared blankly off into the thick trees that were less than a hundred wingbeats away. Saturn was there as well, relating another mythical tale to the young prince and completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't listening. The pair had begun meeting on the ledge instead of at the tree due to Vulcan's injury; the prince could fly for a short while, but his shoulder would gradually begin to throb and ache, and then it was not long before he was panting and straining to stay in the air. There was no way that he could make it to the tree anymore.
Vulcan's eyes glittered with envy as he watched two bats shoot out of the trees and into the clearing, racing against each other. He had been the strongest and fastest of them all, but now he doubted that he would even be able to hunt without stopping to rest two or three times.
The prince had been so absorbed that he hadn't noticed that Saturn had stopped speaking, and the runt looked at his friend morosely. It pained him to see Vulcan behaving so differently from his confidant, daring self, and he had found that the prince's constant joyless mood seemed to bleed into his surroundings, and sometimes he wanted nothing more than to escape the melancholy atmosphere.
"Vulcan," he blurted, unable to remain silent any longer, "I'm sure that you'll be just like your old self in a couple more weeks. I mean, it's healed, but you haven't really rested properly. Just give it some more time."
The prince continued to stare off into the jungle, his face impassive. "Resting won't do anything. In two more weeks, I'll be the same, just as I will be until the day I die." His face suddenly contorted, twisting into a hideous mask of rage. "Crippled!" he spat contemptuously.
Saturn moved back a little, wary of his friend's dangerous temper. "You can still fly faster than I'll ever be able to," he said. "And you're still stronger-"
"Oh, well isn't that a relief!" Vulcan yelled, whirling on the unfortunate bat. "I'm not as slow and weak as the runt of the colony! Thank you, Saturn. I appreciate your words. I'll take them into consideration next time I collapse from exhaustion within the first ten minutes of flight!"
This was not the first time that Saturn had been ridiculed for being the only runt of the Vampyrum colony, but the unkind words had a different sting when they came from Vulcan. Never had the prince mocked him or become impatient with his slow pace, and it hurt him deeply that he had done it just now.
The little bat's response was just as sorrowful as his face as he replied, "I was just trying to help-"
Vulcan suddenly let out a frightening hiss, flaring his wings in a show of anger. Saturn fell backward with a startled cry, scampering away a short distance.
"I don't want your help," he sneered. "I'm sick of you! You've been saying that you know what it's like to be weak, but this is different. You weren't maimed by your own father, you were born as a runt," Saturn winced as he heard that hurtful word again, but the raging prince took no notice. "You've always been weak. Well, I haven't! I was faster and stronger than any of the others, and you know it! I am the prince of the Vampyrum Spectrum, first heir to the throne. I am not supposed to be like you. I am not supposed to be weak!"
Saturn picked himself up and moved over to the fuming prince until their chests were literally touching. Drawing himself up to his full height and staring straight up into Vulcan's blazing eyes, the little bat said flatly, "You're right, Vulcan. I guess I don't understand, and I'm sorry to have failed you. I can't say that I didn't do my best, though. Oh, well. I suppose not much is expected of a runt, anyway." Spreading his wings, he flew off into the clearing in the direction of the jungle, leaving Vulcan alone on the ledge.
The Vampyrum watched as he disappeared into the trees, his face still dark. After a few moments of silence, though, his head began to clear, and he realized too late what he had done. Lowering his wings and letting his lips slide back down over his fangs, he looked over at the loose chunk of stone that Saturn had seated himself on earlier when he had begun his story, then back toward the jungle. What he had just done could never be righted, and the sudden thought made his spirit drop lower than ever.
Later that night, Vulcan roosted alone in the Royal Chamber, the warmth of the night forgotten as the cold wings of guilt and loss wrapped themselves tightly around him. He had yet to feed, but he was not hungry. The memory of Saturn's last words to him before he left kept echoing in his mind:
'...I'm sorry to have failed you. I can't say that I didn't do my best, though. Oh, well. I suppose not much is expected of a runt, anyway.' Vulcan wanted to carve his own tongue out for calling him that. Because of his blind fury, he had just lost the only true friend that he had ever had, and probably ever would.
The prince's eyes were dry as he looked off into the jungle, but inside, he was weeping bitterly.
Goth watched as Phoenix roosted in a nearby tree and began grooming herself, unaware that he was less than fifteen wingbeats from her. He wanted to talk to her, but every time she saw him the female bolted off in the opposite direction, and despite Goth's efforts, the pair hadn't spoken since the night of their son's injury.
The king had been thinking about what he had said to Phoenix that night, about bearing the shame of a crippled son. Did he really want that? There had never been a cripple in the royal family, and having one now seemed disgraceful. Goth knew that he could easily kill Vulcan if he wanted to, and, being king, no one would be able to stop him, nor would they question him. They would understand his decision and respect it; all except Phoenix, of course. Being the mother, she would need much persuading, but Goth thought that eventually she would accept that her ignoble son would bring nothing but shame to the royal family, and would gladly give him another child. Even if she didn't, though, it wasn't as if she could prevent him from killing Vulcan.