It had been cycles. Time moved, but The Child remained in stasis. It grew, but never once did it wake up. It never even dreamed.

Outside, things changed. The big one- Creator, Guardian, Mother visited. First daily, and then every couple days, then even less. She hadn't gotten to visit before The War, hadn't gotten to gaze at the almost-child with eyes full of worry about things bigger than even herself. That had been the biggest gap between visits, the biggest absence. Not that the visits thereafter came much quicker.

Because the more time passed, the more she was certain her the child was dead. And who would fault her for that? What if magick lied? What if that heartbeat was imagined? What if she had killed them twice?

But it wasn't dead. And it hadn't given up, either- wouldn't have given up, if it had been capable of thinking at this point. Hope was something deeper, a spark of light and latent fire.

and it was building.

building..

building...

to burst.

And there was light.

The line between sleep and wakefulness was crossed without realizing. First it was nothing, and then it was sputtering out it's first breaths and squinting at the too bright light that filtered through the leaves. Living was a disorienting barrage of senses where had been nothing- the sudden reconcile of everything at once. It was overwhelming.

It was alive.

It was cursed- or blessed- to never start as a child. Not in body, anyways. It had matured in crystal, already bearing flight-feathers and just short of it's full size. It uncoiled to it's full length, ruffling feathers slick with amnion. For a while, it sat silent. Expectant. There should be someone else, right? A guide? A guardian? A parent?

But it was alone.

It would begin to peep, quiet at first and growing louder, more insistent. Where was everyone? Where was everyone? Where was everyone?

It kept calling. And it kept calling. And it kept calling.

The only response were lessers- some curious, some different, but all wary of the large, obvious threat. It's head swiveled around desperately, looking for anyone, anything. Just the same trees and chunks of crystalline debris that had been there when it hatched. It looked up, peering at the strings orb-lights it could just BARELY make out, high above even the canopy of trees.

Light. Light made it see. Light would make others see them. It needed more light. More glowy things like those so high above. It needed more light, so that the others would see. So that EVERYONE would see.

It would grab the closest chunk of it's former chrysalis for this purpose. Focusing.. Focusing.. pouring light and intention and LIGHT into the gemstone.

Nothing happened. Everything remained the same.

It KNEW it was possible. It felt it like a numb limb- tingling and heavy and somehow both absent and undeniably there. It HAD to be possible, because It HAD to be seen. It wasn't supposed to be alone. It would try- try again. Using another chunk of the discarded chrysalis- the first one was obviously no good. That's why it hadn't worked. But this would work, because it had to.

Almost something- but still nothing. It clacked it's beak and stomped it's claws and threw away the 'faulty' chunk of rock as far as it could. A shrill caw left it's beak as it tossed it's head back. Why? Why not?

It was like a blockage had been broken, and all the magic that it had been begging upon was finally released. The golden portions of it's pallasite shone as though there was an actual fire in it's chest, and the chunk in it's hand mimicked this glow. After a couple of moments the gemstone embedded in it's chest stopped glowing, but the one in it's talons didn't. It would keep glowing forever.

Or until they died, at least.

The newly hatched gembound squealed in delight, holding up the glowing stone and examining it before it remembered WHY it had been trying to make it glow in the first place. Yeah. Focus. This was good! This was very good! But not enough. Not enough light, yet.

But almost. Soon.

Light had gone INTO the stone. Could light go OUT of the stone? Like the beams of light filtering through the trees. Like the sound of birdsong and wind that infused the air itself. It had made light physical- now it was time for light ephemeral. TRUE light.

The magic did not come again. It frowned.

It HAD done this. It could do it again.

Again.

Nothing changed. No more. No less. Just the lengthening of a moment- a long, static frame. The stone it clutched in it's talon remained bright- the one in it's chest remained dark. Light shone ONLY from beyond the trees. The birds sang, ignorant.

It would try again.

Third times the charm as always. The chunk of pallasite embedded in it's chest glows, and whips of the glow peel out. Like falling leafs in reverse they flutter upward, dissipating a short distance up. It maintained the spell as long as it could ignore the excited pride filling it's chest, warmer than any sun it would never feel.

And then it would sit in the clearing. Waiting. and Waiting. Because nobody could miss THAT light show, right?

Right?

It waited.

And, surprisingly, something DID happen.

The light show awoken a swarm of vaguely confused glowflies that now bumbled around the clearing, flashing their own lights. The hatchling watched, mystified, entranced, and ecstatic.

It worked!

They let out a loud, joyous squawk, wings fluttering and disturbing the swarm. The glowing gemstone dropped, forgotten and worthless in the face of this new excitement. They would chase one of the bugs through the trees- one with a lime-hued glow and twisting, spirally patterns. The bug seemed to always fly JUST out of reach, darting away from their attempts to chomp it. This chase brought them farther and farther away from the clearing they hatched in.

The nest left behind. A new journey started.

[Exit Thread]