Chapter Two: Life as a Spirit
Feeling the soft warm breeze rustle through his wings, Shade sailed over the treetops; letting the wind carry him away, up into the clouds above. It felt odd, the cold condensed drops just falling through him, rather than clinging onto his sleek black fur or sliding off his rough, weather-beaten wings and chilling him to his bare bones. He was part of the air now, never feeling the discomforts of the cold, hunger or restless nights when the hours seemed to drag on, but in the same essence, he never felt warm or truly filled with joy like he once did when he was alive.
In the beginning, Shade forced himself to embrace it like a new experience, telling himself that now, life would be different, and he would be able to do things he'd never imagined possible when he had been alive. And he was right, to some extent. He watched countless sunrises without worry, and the wind carried him to places he'd never been before. Yes, there were those benefits of being a floating spirit, but that didn't mean it overcame the hurt in the past. Life appeared easy, simple now, but something told him this wasn't the life Nocturna had promised for him. There was something more…
Griffin. The name struck a pang of guilt inside him, like a hard punch in the gut. It felt strange, realising the hurt on the inside wasn't much different from physical pain, but the aftershock just never seemed to go away. It wasn't immediate or sharp, but it lingered like a bad smell, like the scent of the many filthy pigeons roosting in the old clock-tower so many seasons ago. It felt worse, because you never knew when it would go away. And sometimes it never did.
Shade remembered it all, the light drain from his son when Goth tore his life force from him to greedily take as his own; the demonic monster of a bat having no space in his world for anyone but himself. Griffin's body had went cold and limp, his eyes sealed shut, wings open, worn out from endless flapping about seeking the escape from the dark world of the dead.
Then the events flashed faster, moments blurring into each other, chasing time like whirlwinds, Shade falling, bashing headfirst into the cold stone ground, his own life energy pouring into his son, then Griffin and Luna flying through the knothole in the tree, Shade following close behind, flowing like the wind itself, racing to catch up with them.
And then the rush of relief that had filled his soul as his eyes were graced with familiar sights, the towering oak, maple and cedar trees with their lush damp leaves teeming with the buzz of insects and the constant twitter of birdsong, with the night sky and scattered stars like shattered ice overhead. He'd zipped through the forest, in and out of rocks, flowers and animals, feeling the warmth, cold or whatever sensation was inside of them. It felt exhilarating, exciting at first, but it died down soon enough.
He couldn't see his reflection when he flew over the rushing streams.
He could no longer sing echoes, paint images or move objects with them.
He was no longer alive.
He was no longer there.
Shade couldn't accept that. He couldn't accept slowly fading away, until he himself may forget that he still existed.
He needed to believe again.
He needed to return to Griffin and Marina.
He needed to live again.