ORIGIN

Training had very much become an integral part of Ghanyarah's daily routine, but so did scouting. He'd been told to venture out and spread the word of their great guardian, Aquarian. Now, Ghanyarah wasn't very religious, and nor was he much of a zealot, even when it came to Aquarian. He had tried to preach to others about Aquarian, and for some reason it just didn't feel right to him - he very much believed in Aquarian and their cause, but at he same time... Ghanyarah was far too selfish to truly give his life to a cause. It felt false attempting to spread the word. He would happily sit by and let one of the others preach to strangers, so long as Ghanyarah didn't have to do anything but protect them should things head south. For that reason, Ghanyarah had focused more on training than anything.

That was why he was back here. Also because he simply felt at home in the ice. He liked the way the cold curled around his feet and toes, numbing him every now and then until he moved again, or used his magic to tap into the cool temperature. The ice was good to him; though it bit him sometimes, it didn't try to drown him, nor did it burn him like Dragon's magic. Sometimes it pierced into his skin, but he gritted his teeth and accepted it for what it was - parasitic, dependent. It couldn't be strong unless he was.

He had ventured a little deeper into the tunnel, veering off towards the room called Pisces. Ghanyarah had never been in this room before, but sometimes when he was training in the tunnel he could hear a chorus of voices - he knew another group dwelled here, a large one. The mischievousness in him challenged him to forge another wall of ice like he'd tried to in Canis - maybe he could trap those do-gooders in Pisces in their dumb waterfall cave for a while for a few laughs. The komodo sneered and turned, taking a few steps to round a corner; he wanted his privacy, but he'd have to remain vigilant that nobody caught him. Alone, he settled down and focused on his magic, pressing his body flat against the ice and indulging himself in the sensation.

Sure enough, the cold spread through him - it started in his belly and reached up his toes, into his tough hands, up his arms and into his chest, shaking his heart. He closed his eyes as the cold began to consume him, then squeezed them, tightening his jaw. The cold was seeping in through his hide now, but he persisted. He reached out through it, and he could feel his grasp crawling through the ice in front of him. Slowly, it began to grow; a low ridge began to form out of the ice that surrounded the tunnel, and for a moment, Ghanyarah lost himself in the feeling of building the wall of ice.

It hadn't taken much before the cold became too much, and all too soon he realized that he was numbing his feet. Not only his feet, but his tail, and his stomach, and - he as cold. There was a fleeting moment of panic in him as he opened his eyes again, wide, staring down at his front feet. Frost was accumulating on his scales. Ghanyarah squeaked, jumping up. He sent out an instinctive surge of magic out of defense against the biting cold that was slowly creeping up him and freezing his limbs, a desperate attempt to stop the growth of the ice crystals. Only, this too had backfired in a way that the reptile thought couldn't be possible. Where he had tried to place his focus on freeing his limbs, most of the magic responded with a resounding thrum of pain in his head.

There was a small crack. A small splinter of morganite fractured from his crest, near the base - barely noticeable, but boy, he could feel it. Before he knew it, the gemstone slid down his snout and clattered in the ice in front of him. His limbs were still nearly numb, but the komodo dragon was too shocked to really realize what had happened.

Movement. A shuffling - whatever it was, something was coming through the tunnel. He was vulnerable. Ghanyarah did the only thing he could think to do at that moment - he turned and bolted down the tunnel, flight response forcing his appendages to move and generate enough heat to warm up again. He ran until he found a little alcove in the tunnel and slid into it, nestling himself between the rocks and ice. That was a close one.

Dark had been shuffling along the tunnel walls, and along the edges of Pisces, for the last few hours. Aside from tripping over a strange new ledge of ice a few moments ago, nothing much was different from his usual routine. Beak clicking quietly, he'd use his magic to look into the past, seeing strange figures, lapping water, places and gems he didn't recognize. Sometimes he even heard voices, and once or twice the magic had seemed to backfire, filling his mind with terror and noise.

He'd come to learn, though, that it couldn't really hurt him--at least, he hoped it couldn't. It was just part of seeing into the past, part of learning, and--...

What's this?

The floor beneath his talons had suddenly gone cold, ice cold, colder than the bitter moisture that accumulated and slicked the stone beneath. No, this was something--something fresher, something that tingled with the residual sense of magic.

He'd heard voices, heard the rustle of something fleeing the area, but he'd thought nothing of it; the cave rats were too small to bother with him, usually, and as long as he kept his ears open he could easily take flight before anything got anywhere near him.

But cave rats didn't leave slicks of ice over tunnel floors, and cave rats didn't do... whatever this had been.

With a soft, confused hoot, the owl shuffled another step forward, then another. Then another. All at once his foot closed over something that was not ice: it was smooth, and cold, but there was something just not-ice about it.

Tentatively, the owl leaned down and gently nibbled the thing with his beak, tasting it with an owl's tongue.

It didn't taste like much. It didn't give off water, like ice might; it didn't have the mineral taste of stone. A gem, then? He gave it a light tug, but it was stuck firm, and feeling down the sides with his foot he could tell that either ice or rock held it lodged firmly in place.

For awhile he simply stood there, one feathered, taloned foot held loosely over the gem, thinking. Feeling.

It's alive.

The realization came slowly; the tingle of living magic lingered within the stone, as if it were a cocoon, perhaps, yet--he could feel it, too, fading.

Both his curiosity and his sense of pity were piqued. He wondered if he might be able to help it, to send enough magic into the thing to bring it to life, or at least to keep it alive long enough that it might grow and hatch. The idea thrilled him, and in the next instant he thought that maybe he should go and ask Bevy--but he could feel the magic fading, and he knew that if he waited, it might be too late.

And so the great horned owl focused, his blind gem eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, emerald green as he focused on pulling his magic together, on gathering it within him, and--instead of taking it--on pushing it into the stone.

It worked!

He felt a warm tingle, a sense of joy and wonder, as his magic flooded the stone and filled it with brilliant, warm, tingling life.

It would live.

It would grow!

The spell slowly tapered off, ending quite naturally, so that Dark pulled away with the confidence that the exchange of magic had completed successfully. There was nothing left to do now but to leave it to grow, and hatch; he'd go at once and tell Bevy, proud of himself, and then return to keep watch, now and again.

And when it hatched, he'd be sure to be there, to tell it all about the world and how to survive, to introduce it to his friends in Maji Walezi, and to take wonderful care of it forever.

What sort of Gembound would it be, he wondered. He leaned down, chirping softly and giving the glittering pink stone an affectionate nuzzle. Would it be a male, or a female, or something else altogether? Would it be a feathered bird, like him? ...He hoped so!

Dark turned, crouching, gathering his bearings via sound. A moment later he'd launched up, the near-silent flurry of wingbeats giving way to the true silence of an owl's flight as the bird--infused with new enthusiasm--winged his way quickly back toward Pisces and his mother-bird beyond.

I'm gonna be a mother-bird too!

________________

For a second, Ghanyarah lay hidden within the alcove, squeezing his body as much as he could into the tight little space. It was in a tunnel like this that he'd accidentally set off the anger of a large raptor that had come charging in looking to steal his lunch; it was a tunnel like this in which the monkey had found him and slapped him, spawning the growth of fungi in his cheek. The scales there were still malformed, all angled away from the scarred white tissue were fungi had plagued him for weeks until he'd managed to claw them out for good. He was weary of tunnels, but his limbs were still tingling from his magic. He didn't know if he'd be able to run all the way away. He was vulnerable. Whoever that was coming out into the tunnel could get him - with a fretful, short breath, the komodo stretched his head out in an attempt to see who it was.

An owl. A little owl with bright green eyes, waddling along the ice.

He damn near scoffed at his own foolish fear - but the komodo stifled it, slowly shifting his body as silently as he could so that he could watch. It occurred to him seconds later that he'd left the shard of morganite lying in the ice, which had grown over it as a result of his residual magic still permeating the frozen ground. Ghanyarah scowled quietly, lowering his head and watching disdainfully. The owl approached the shard, curious - he nibbled at it, to which Ghanyarah found himself gritting his teeth in anger. What was he doing! That was Ghanyarah's shard! If the komodo had any less restraint, he'd be bowling the owl over for his insolence.

Now, the owl was... doing something. He seemed to be just focusing on it. Ghanyarah narrowed his eyes, flicking his tongue curiously. Then, just like that, it was all over - the owl hooted and nuzzled the stone then took flight, abandoning the shard in the ice. The reptile hesitated in his hidey-hole, adjusting himself again. He waited there for a few seconds more before deciding that the owl wasn't coming back. Hopefully. If he was, then Ghanyarah would have to be quick.

The reptile pulled himself out, long nails scratching at the rock until he had freed himself from the alcove. He scampered down the tunnel towards the shard, hovering over it for a moment. There was this... feeling... he couldn't really describe it. An energy. A swelling of something near tangible rising out of the shard. A feeling of ownership, this stone was his - and yet... there was something alien about it. What had the owl done to it?! Ghanyarah hissed in the direction of Pisces. He clawed at the ice, hastily chipping it away and freeing the stone. Soon as it came loose, he grabbed it in his teeth and wrenched it free, turning and making his getaway. Whatever the owl had done, Ghanyarah intended to foil his plans - this stone was his after all, and he would take it back with him to Cetus.