Wind

It was quite a peaceful night. Princess had her head in his lap, and her breaths had evened out. He gazed down at her face, curious about what it was like to sleep. His race didn't sleep. They would shut down somewhat for a bit, but it wasn't the same as sleeping – they never closed their eyes.

It was more like a meditation. And not all of them did it in the same way. His sister's meditation for instance was more like a commune with Xi'eli. Whereas for himself – he become more attuned to nature, even more than normal, for the time.

And he could always feel it, that shift that came in his thinking. It had not come yet.

In fact not everyone in the group was asleep yet. The young sorceress had wandered off alone. Perhaps he should have followed her, but he sensed nothing dangerous around. The spirits were quiet tonight, only talking of the normal things. Of the growing of plants, the blowing of the breeze, the warmth of the sun.

He heard her as she came back and looked over at her, not because she had left. But she had come back with something that at first felt a bit dark – it alarmed him.

However, quickly he realized that it had a warmth to it, that denied that darkness and he realized what it was. For it was something he had met before. The not-wraith.

He settled down from where he had started to bristle, but he gazed at the amulet that the dead man had taken up residence in. He wasn't entirely sure what the not-wraith looked like to other people but he knew he saw him differently. For he most likely looked just a bit more like a real wraith to others, though he wasn't sure he totally looked like one – for the man had not turned into a wraith, but had neither been able to leave the world. Trapped still. But the worse of the curse he had avoided. Despite the fact he had met the criteria within the curse to become a wraith.

For with that curse, casting a spell when you were already that close to death would completely destroy you. But while it had destroyed his mortal body, it had not destroyed his mind. And he was still at heart the man he had been in life.

It was fascinating really. And he knew why it was the case that he had not been destroyed. The reason for the spell had saved him in a way – because he had never lost sight of himself. He had never once surrendered to the darkness, but had fought it until he drew his last breath – and had in the end sacrificed himself for another.

His hand reached up to clutch at his heart which was constricting painfully. He knew, though he had not witnessed it, exactly what happened the night that man had died. And that their fates were twisted together so very painfully.

For after all, the reason he had cast that last spell in order to so desperately protect someone was because of what had been happening in his vicinity. The not-wraith had not been the only one to die that night.

It had been the night the full burden of his own cursed bloodline fell on his shoulders – earlier than usual for his family, and felt more deeply than it had been in many generations. But that was one of the signs that the time was approaching – for they had mercifully had it lightened till the time came.

The sorceress had already headed into her tent now – though she had glanced at her prince's tent first. Those two had a nice friendship.

He glanced up at the moon, feeling the wind stir his hair. He found himself just listening to the sounds around him. The sounds of life, that were everywhere. It was peaceful out here, in the open and not for the first time in his life, he felt himself fill with joy at just being alive.

Even if his blood had such a curse on it, he would never have asked for a different lot in life. He loved hearing the spirits, loved how everything would just thrill through him with joy. And he yearned – always yearned – to fully take on the mantle that was his birthright.

At the same time there was a loneliness to his gift and curse. For few could understand it. His sister could understand the duty, but never could quite comprehend what it was like to always hear all these voices – from the spirits that would so often chat directly at him, to the animals that he could so easily understand – even without seeing them.

Would others have found it strange to be able to know how many worms were in the ground? But to him he couldn't comprehend living in more silence. But others always got a look on their face when he tried to talk of it – one that plainly said they thought it would be uncomfortable.

Druids were a little less uncomfortable with it, he had noticed – being intrigued if he started talking to them about it. But even of druids, the only ones that might start to be able to comprehend it were the Children of Drez, but even they had to be able to actually sense the animal in some way to understand it – well, in a way, so did he – he just had another sense they did not.

As he was thinking about this, he could feel the shift inside of himself, as once again his way of thinking took a slightly different turn – however, no matter what, the core of himself never changed. He would always be himself.