A mere hour after Uthwix left for the Thasclea estate, Hexlith headed out toward the gate he had come through the night before. His sister was right, he could only ruminate on the matter for so long, before he took action. As he stepped through the door, outside stood Pral, who - with a raised beak, stared her son down like a vulture. Her gaze was met by Hexlith’s own agitated one, as he spun to look at the woman who dubbed him ‘Doomed’ the moment he was born. Before she got a word out, the younger Magkin would instead.
“I don’t wanna hear it.”
Pral was what many called a ‘teller,’ a ‘seer,’ and at times even a fully fledged ‘Oracle,’ thus in spite of the world’s loss of magic… her fortunes, and fates always seemed to hold true. A fact that her son perpetually faced when he left home, when she made it a point to spell out his fate to him. Perhaps it was due to his very name that she did this, but hell, that made it even worse! With a spin, and a low sigh, the younger Magkin departed… yet not before Pral got a word in.
“Aussir will be waiting by the gate!” A remark that only got a wave from Hexlith in his egress.
The cityscape of ye ole wizard and witch towers… was always quite a walk, no matter the length! As, more often than not? Something was a-brew; Pun intended, the alchemical arts, one of the final pillars against the fall of magic- had become common practice in Noor. On the less literal side of things, however, were the parasites who infested the shaded alleys, the corrupt guard, and even the royals such as the Thasclea! People who Hexlith only ever tolerated out of respect for his sister, who had built a healthy bond with the lot of them through the conduit of alchemy. They stood for virtually everything he stood against yet he didn’t treat them any less, as if push ever came to shove… he’d surely be the one to fall. More important than himself, Uthwix would be put in harm's way, and her trust in him would perish, among other things. Being a zoologist, and protector of nature, a family that specifically hunted the rarest of species for… ingredients? Well… All he could do in the wake of their hunt was hide away all the animals he could. One of which happened to be the Cockatrice, but alas - even what remained inevitably fell into their hands. A thought that brought Hexliths vision to the ground he walked, and watched as one step at a time, he strode through an encroaching snowfall.
Only when a snowflake landed on the white in front of his eyes, did Hexlith look up, and when he had? He made it to the gate! His father was also in sight of course, one of the many hoods he consistently donned- flicked in the cold breeze. His hand was held out in front of him to catch the snowflakes as they fell, a soft gaze rested on his palm until Hexlith inevitably approached. His gaze now- moved to Aussir’s hand, which had slowly shifted left to right, in order to catch the flakes as they fell. Something about it was mesmerizing, how he placed his hand under a snowflake just before it could pass. However, he swiftly snapped out of it, quite literally, as Aussir lowered his other hand from Hexlith’s ear.
“Glad to have your attention for once. Kind of a shame though…” He paused, his gaze peered past Hexlith towards one of the guards, only averting it back to him, as his son looked that way. “Your sister wanted you more prepared this time around, she asked me to return this; The gal’s hard to disagree with, as you know.”
As soon as he said this, Hexlith knew what he was referring to, and his eyes lit up with excitement. An heirloom given to him at birth, but due to the name in which he’s burdened by - was taken away. A falx, passed through the ages only ever as an ornamental piece, despite its functional edge. The hooked blade hummed as it was drawn from Aussirs cloak, and placed into Hexlith’s hand. Its true significance was long lost, a truth that had been acknowledged many times, but still stood as a symbol for the next to ‘lead’ the Jaseve family. For Hexlith though, who they deemed as doomed? To give him such a prized possession marked a very possible end as they knew it, especially with how accurate Pral’s foretelling had proven to be. Now, however? The passing of the falx symbolized something more, something unspoken between Aussir, and Hexlith, but understood all the same. It was a promise to Uthwix… to live, as if he were to fall? The whole family… would fall beside him.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
No words need be shared between the two after the blade was handed over. As much as Aussir understood Uthwix for demanding her brother have it back, he still couldn’t help but feel as if he had set something in motion… that he shouldn’t have. Something he wouldn’t be able to stop. A thought that resided all the same in Hexliths mind, as he waltzed down the stone ridden path, his gaze moved from left, to right, and even to the tree-tops at times. He was just handed a promise on a silver platter, one which he had no idea how to honor, other than… to live? It seemed easy enough, yet in prospect of such, it became daunting to even take another step, so long as the falx rested at his side. Its draconic design shimmered in the marbled light that penetrated the canopy above, and hummed with every step. Regardless of nerves, Hexlith had a mission at hand- or rather… a failed mission that needed an immediate remedy!
The Cockatrice was a creature that he monitored for a bit, and actually tried to aid in its hunts. Hexlith is essentially the antithesis to the hunter, as he finds creatures in need, and helps them find safety, without making them completely reliant. Particularly fond of the hidden creatures of Esgraile, Hexlith focused his attention on the unnoticed, and those deemed to have gone extinct. Then there came special cases like the Cockatrice, who had wandered its way into the lush, mystical jungles of Noor, from its life in the vast open plains of Tulok! He haphazardly tracked the creature, and tried to reroute it back to its natural habitat, for as far out of its element as it was here, where the land itself could swallow you up in its allure. The Cockatrice? Really was just another fly caught in the spider's web, death stare or not, and Hexlith sought to avert such a fate. Of course, what happened next occurred, and passed with the day! He got too close, and was picked as the monster's next meal, only for it to die because of him… to a far more dangerous predator.
“Crimson feathers…” He mumbled, as he made way to the Cockatrices' nest.
Before he dipped into the woods, he looked to his right, at a sign; It was one of the many bounty boards strewn across Noor, planted right before the thicket. Hexlith was sure they existed in Tulok as well, but had only ever heard of the larger scale hunts, which he had no real interest in. Not like many ‘rescue’ missions were in Noor anyway, as more often than not, he simply used the bounties as leads on relocating animals. This turned Hexlith into quite the tracker over time, as he’d been forced to compete against those who wished to hunt the animals he sought to protect. Sure, he could simply defend them physically. He was more than equipped to do so, but the prospect of fighting, and defending a creature that may want you as its next meal at your back? Simply didn’t fit Hexliths narrative.
With a brief glance over the names, Hexlith moved on, as he slipped back into the trail he had used the night prior. The difference now was day and night… literally, as when you moved from the path to the forest, or visa versa? It felt as if you had entered an entirely different dimension! The shade the canopy brought was astonishing, ceiling-esque in the cover it granted, there still lingered an odd luminescence between the trunks of each tree. Shadows moved with a glance, rather than the shifting of the leaves above, which provided a feeling of eerie isolation when traversing the forest. That being said, the marks he had made, and maintained over the years kept him in line, so long as he trusted the carvings. It’d take quite the deal of effort for his route to be thrown off, let alone by the forces of nature that could care less about mere markings. Markings, which led Hexlith all the way back to the Cockatrice’s nest! As he made his way to the little dip in the terrain that the Cockatrice had claimed as its own, he walked to a dead stop. His gaze widespread in awe, as he stared at- not the eggs that he sought to protect, but instead? an all too familiar set of wings.