The slow, churning lull of the crystal drummed in the bird's ears. It grew, unknowing of the world, unknowing of anything that had happened over the past cycle. Shifting became harder as time went on. Before long, the space was entirely too cramped. Like most birds from a world unknown, something kicked in, and the little rock dove started pipping at it's chrysalis. Small parts would chip away, weakening the stone. Slowly, slowly, it became weak enough that with a large push it cracked open, dropping its contents onto the ground. The small bird landed with an undignified thud. There, it lay for a moment, exhausted and unsure of what to do next. In short bursts, the bird would wiggle and flail to try to right itself. Tiny wings flapped helplessly, and feet scrambled on a cool floor. Finally, after what had to have been hours, the bird was able to sit upright. Attempts to walk were met with plopping failure, face first into the ground. Then the rock dove would have to right itself again, rest, then try again. The whole process was annoying and hard to do. Why was it so hard? Standing, the bird tried again. He would walk! "Blah blah blah"

He did it! He walked! Well, of course he would. What kind of a bird would he be if he couldn't walk? Ruffling his soft, fluffy baby feathers, Gertrude took a few steps, looking around, tilting his head this way and that. His steps were more baby hops, but, as far as he knew, he was walking. What was this? What was that? The little bird hopped around. He felt odd. It was less tingly out here than in his chrysalis. Why was that? Was that normal? He hopped back to the broken bits of his chrysalis, pecking at them. Where was the tingly? Could it come back? He could feel it almost a little still on his face. He was used to this feeling, though he did not know it was the feeling of magic. The bird hopped onto a part of his old chrysalis, thinking of the feeling it gave him. He concentrated on that feeling in his head. Maybe that feeling would spread to his body. The bird closed his eyes, thinking of how it was in the chrysalis. Without knowing, the bird was summoning his magic. He was not aware of magic or non-magic, only the tingle that he was once surrounded with, and now was not. "Blah blah blah"

Using the spell on the shards of the chrysalis, the bird would receive a sudden vision. Many shadows passed over the chrysalis, seemingly unnoticed by those the shadows belong to. There were sounds, voices; the sensation of magic being used nearby. The vision was incredibly loud and vivid, with such detail that it could have been perceived as happening that very moment - it was certainly enough to overload the senses. The faces in the vision were too distant, darkened and unfamiliar to the bird, for now.

In the future, the bird may recognize the faces as belonging to a dark-furred leopard, a deer with blue-grey eyes, and a zebra whose gem was a majestic horn emerging from her forehead.

The bird tapped on the stone and a mass of memories came his way, flooding his body with that tingly sensation. Were these his memories? No, surely not, he was just born! Shapes and shadows filled the bird’s mind and once they finally vanished, the pigeon flopped back, surprised. He ruffled his feathers at whatever the hell that was. Gertrude stared at the stone. What nerve it had to try and communicate with him! It was just a rock! His hatching rock, no less! Like it had any right to try and talk to him! The bird huffed, filling its crop with air as it tilted its head back and forth, as if the stone was going to do more. If it was going to do something, then do it! He had gotten the tingly feeling back, but at what cost? The bird didn’t want to talk to rocks! He was a civilized creature! Yes, moments after his birth, he knew it; he was destined for greatness. This birb- err… bird- was going to be a leader and many would bow to his strength and knowledge! He would start with this rock, he jumped forward, assaulting it with his claws, "Go ahead, spill out your secrets!" "Blah blah blah"

The nerve! Oh, the nerve! This rock wanted to work on its own terms, huh? Well real funny, because that’s how Gertrude wanted to work too! If the rock didn’t want to spill its secrets, fine, he would just take the rock for his own! Maybe he would drop it somewhere and let it break. Maybe if he did that, the rock would spill its secrets. The bird picked up the stone, flailing his wings that were not yet suitable for flying. Damn this rock! It was too stubborn! Prince Gertrude pecked at it a few times, nice and hard. It hurt his beak, but he was sure it hurt the stone more. Gosh darned this thing and its ways of keeping its secrets! It meant to do this, didn’t it? It showed him secrets so that it could tease him by hiding the rest! Well no more! Gertrude was going to get to the bottom of this if he had to peck his way through the entire rock! The bird angrily scratched at the stone, though it did no damage. Getting thoroughly mad at this rock, Gertrude felt his face heat up. Why this stone had the nerve to not even break when he attacked it! It would really pay now! He felt all tingly and he was going to make the rock feel his anger by pushing the tingly feeling all over his body again, forcing the stone’s secrets to come loose. "Blah"

The shard would unveil more secrets to the bird, however, they were still foggy and distant. Blurry images of larger creatures passing by. Some vague words - some sounded panicked, others were calm. There was a time when there had been darkness in this room. The images flickered briefly before fading away again, leaving Gertrude with the knowledge that, at one point, there had been no light here - but there was ample foot traffic.