the moon once more. It seemed to look back. A powerful longing rose in his chest, and it was not the longing to be home but the longing for something else, something he did not know or understand. He thought of the yellow griffin with whom he had mated all those years ago, the one with blue eyes like the sky. He thought of Saekrae, her eyes and voice now fuzzy in his memory, and he thought of his two siblings and the warmth of their bodies against his. He thought of the nest where he had lived as a chick.
The longing grew more powerful, and then it moved into his throat. And there, the feeling came back. That burning feeling, that maddening energy. The scream, still trying to get out. He stood up abruptly and opened his beak toward the sky, trying to let it out, but he could not make a sound. The scream caught behind his tongue and would not go, and the feeling grew and strengthened, first a hundred times stronger than before and then a thousand, until his entire body started to shake violently.
He began to run this way and that, darting back and forth and colliding blindly with the rocks all about, and then he fell over onto his side and began to thrash, tearing at himself. Strange whimpers and grunts came from him as he tried with all his might to let the scream out. But all in vain. He stilled and then thrashed again, churning up the soil. The moonlight touched his face, and then something broke inside him.
Light burst out of him. Black light. It was like a hole in the world that outlined every hair and feather, its edges shimmering silver, a darkness so intense that it was darker than the night all around, darker than his fur. It grew in intensity, making his outline ripple and distort, like water. Darkheart ceased his struggles and became stiff, as though dead. Then he jerked upright, not as if he had decided to stand but as if he had been dragged to his paws. His head came up and his beak opened, pointing down at Arren’s body.
And then he screamed.
The sound burst out of him like blood from a wound, and it was no griffin’s voice, or human’s, or the voice of any other living creature. It was like a thousand voices all screaming at once, or like the sound of a gushing torrent of water, huge and fast beyond comprehension. It was a sound that had never been heard in the world before.
And with it came light. It came from Darkheart’s beak, pouring out of him like water. The glow around him faltered and then faded, and the light moved out of him and into Arren’s body, vanishing inside it and transferring the glow to him. His hair and skin were haloed with the darkness of a living shadow, which made his outline warp and twist before it reformed into its old shape.
The scream stopped abruptly, and Darkheart’s beak snapped shut. He slumped onto his belly, panting and exhausted, but unable to look away. He saw the light move over Arren’s body, embracing him, and then it began to fade, retreating into his skin and disappearing like water soaking into the earth. Then it was gone and it was all over.
Darkheart’s head dropped and he became still, his eyes gently sliding shut. His tail continued to twitch for a time, and then that, too, fell to the ground and did not move again.
The stars began to go out, the moon faded and the first light of the sun appeared over the horizon. As the sky lightened, birds began to chirp in the trees, and in the city above, griffins called their names, announcing their presence to the world. Another day had come, but neither Arren nor Darkheart saw it.
Darkheart woke up slowly, rising out of a morass of dark dreams. His body ached and he felt strangely drained and weak, even vulnerable. He sat up slowly and yawned, his wings opening wide. It made him feel slightly better, but it was not until he began flexing his front legs to ease the stiffness in them that the memory of the previous night came rushing back. He stopped dead, head darting this way and that to take in his surroundings. It was dawn, and he was sitting among some rocks by the base of the mountain. There was sky above and trees