Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (15 page)

Another round of murmuring sounded through
the room, this one proving to be less chaotic than the last.
“What’s wrong with me being a griffin?” Molar asked, bringing the
murmuring to a stop.

“It’s commonly believed that griffins have a
certain sense to feel sorrow for one another when they see somebody
else in pain. But you
must
think like us if you want to live
with us.” A growl formed in his voice with these last few
words.

At the sound of his growl, Molar nearly took
a step back as he began to wonder how Yofel—or any Mocranian, for
that matter—could think the slaves were unequal to him. It seemed
likely to him most of the slaves who had been serving Mocrano had
been born after the first slaves came into work. Therefore, most of
the slaves who were around should have been free Mocranians.

Although he hadn’t known it, Molar was
causing a long pause of silence through his train of thought. Once
he came to this realization, he shot a look up at his grandfather
when he asked, “How would you feel if you were a slave?”

Hearing this question, the emperor behind all
of the clothes and metal began to tense his arms. His fingers
curled around the arms of his chair when he hissed, “Don’t ask any
unnecessary questions, Molar.”

Flinching away from the emperor, Molar asked
himself,
How was that unnecessary?
The question rang in his
head until Yofel continued, “This is about you—not me.”

His feet twitching, Molar was just barely
able to hold back an irritable sigh. “
I
wouldn’t want to be
a slave,” he replied. “I’ve seen how their owners treat them. It
just doesn’t seem fair to me that they do all the work while we
beat them.”

“The slaves should be thankful that we have
them work for us!” Yofel retorted. “Because they’ve built and mined
so much, we give them food and comfortable places for them to
rest.”

“
Comfortable
?” Molar sneered. “The
only places I’ve seen them rest are clear areas in the sand!”

As these words spilled out into the room, the
entire Mapharaux stood silent as a chilling breeze swept through.
This breeze caused Molar to think,
I shouldn’t have done
that!

“Molar, although you are my grandson,” Yofel
began, “you are banished!”

These three words cause Molar’s entire body
to freeze, feeling as if every bone in his body would swell up with
failure. At the same time did his wings come to a halt, causing his
feet to touch the ground. The world outside him seemed to disappear
as he heard his grandfather’s words echo faintly in his head.

“I would make you a slave, but that would
just lead to another mouth we’ll have to feed. We already have too
many slaves, so this is the best option for us.”

Clearing his throat, Yofel continued on his
explanation. “You will be turned into what has forever stood for
everything against us once I’m through with you!”

A look of dismay dragging across his face,
Molar’s ankles began to twitch when a group of Mocranian warriors
came up to him. Each of them human, their exquisite spears pointed
toward him as he began to cower.

“Have him killed, and make sure he doesn’t
try to fly away! If he does, make sure he suffers.” At that moment,
Yofel picked himself from his chair to walk towards his own
grandson.

Kill me?
thought Molar.
I thought
he was just going to banish me! And what does he mean he’ll turn me
into what has stood against Mocranians? What would that be?

Witnessing his grandfather stalk toward him,
Molar lost every ounce of sensation in his bones. He wanted to run,
but he just couldn’t; fear had locked him in one place. The closer
Yofel came, the further he felt himself plunge into this freezing
sensation.

At last did the emperor find himself
face-to-face with his grandson. The feel of Yofel’s breath brushing
through his shell of bone would have made Molar shiver in fear—were
it not for his already-present numbness. His cold hand came to rest
on Molar’s head, causing the griffin to feel as if his skull were
frozen.

As Yofel removed his hand from the top of
Molar’s head, a series of spikes suddenly went through the
griffin’s skull. Each of these punctures were caused by the
warriors’ spikes ripping Molar’s mind from his body.

Sensing every shred of connection his mind
and body had being ripped apart, Molar took notice of an even
greater numbness than before. As if he were encased in a firm
shell, each attack thrown upon him would have caused no pain to him
whatsoever. It seemed as if all pain had lost its sting thanks to
this new shell.

For only a short while did Molar feel as if
his mind was free to settle wherever it pleased. It was a sensation
which made him wonder why he hadn’t yearned for death for all the
months he had walked through Mocrano.
This is better than
living,
he realized
, Why would I want anything other than
this?

In his final moments of true freedom and
happiness, Molar felt his grandfather’s hand draw through his mind.
All the numbness he had once known only a few moments ago had now
been taken away from him. Such a sensation made him feel as if his
shell were destroyed by freezing temperatures, causing his mind to
stand frozen in place.

As if his mind had turned into a solid, Yofel
grasped his mind until Molar could feel himself being moved. He
felt this same feeling until Yofel placed him into a strange
device—the likes of which held a shape similar to a lantern.

Upon being thrown into this device, Molar
took notice of his grandfather closing the door. All the while
Molar could faintly hear his grandfather tell somebody, “Take this
to the top of the tower. I’ll take care of him later.”

Silence befell the entire courtroom at that
moment. Not a single murmur, not a single whisper, or a single
plead was uttered during this time. Yofel broke a silence when he
mournfully announced, “I would like you all to know that I regret
having to have banished Molar from Mocrano. I will now set up a new
law preventing any family from suffering the pain Carpla and I have
gone through.”

With these words, a final round of murmuring
roared through the whole room, causing confusion for everybody
inside. Nearly every murmur spilling out into the room at that
moment had been made for the questioning of Yofel’s statement.

“Due to the possibility of there being an
uncontrollable population, it is now illegal for
anybody
to
give birth to a child. Anybody who is caught doing so will be
either executed or enslaved.”

At the sound of these words, a great roar of
protesting rang out through the entire Mapharaux. As each of the
angry Mocranians released cries of dismay, Carpla sat in the same
spot where he had sat the whole trial—looking down at his feet. All
the while did he attempt to push the sounds of these resentful
Mocranians’ voices from his head.

Carpla had barely even taken notice of
Yofel’s declaration to having childbirth illegal. The outside world
had seemed to fade for him upon witnessing his son’s mind being
imprisoned in Yofel’s device. Ever since those fateful moments, a
great sense of remorse caused him to once again yearn for his lost
son—even through all the pain he had caused Molar.

Raising a hand, Yofel brought the protesting
to a stop when he explained, “Allow me to show you what will happen
when this law is
not
obeyed.”

With a quick turn of his head, Yofel turned
his gaze toward one of the guards and gave them a curt nod. His
gaze still locked on the warrior, Yofel’s hand came into the air
when he randomly pointed to a Mocranian hyena watching idly by.

The hyena received a shock of surprise at the
sight of the emperor pointing toward him—and he quickly found a
javelin piercing through his skull as he became one of the
deceased.

With a swarm of emotions forming behind his
mask, Yofel continued, “That will be your worst-case scenario.” A
pause came into play before he continued, “I hereby announce that
this trial is over. You may all leave.” Such words revived Carpla
from his trance.

As each Mocranian in the Mapharaux exited the
great building, many murmurs were shared among them. Such questions
wondered what would happen to Molar’s mind and what Yofel meant
when he told his grandson how he would become everything the
Mocranians didn’t stand for.

These questions and many more rang through
Mocrano as Carpla began to saunter his way back home. Every step
seemed a mournful nail in Molar’s coffin, each nail never to be
broken by any force on Mocrano.

Chapter VII

A New Family

“Ahh...! Look at it!” Sahemawia, a snowy owl,
exclaimed to herself. Her egg had just split up into two pieces,
thereby making her a mother. Inside the egg came one of the tiniest
owls she had ever taken notice of in her whole life.

Hurriedly, Sahemawia’s mate, Ulpheir, made
his way into their family’s hollow. Once inside, he panted,
“What—what just happened? I found a worm, but did I miss the
hatching?”

With a sigh, Sahemawia replied,
“Unfortunately. But it’s okay—our owlet’s safe and sound in the
nest!”

Barely taking notice of the last words
expelled from Sahemawia’s beak, Ulpheir could feel his two stomachs
churn with shame and embarrassment. However, the feeling that he
had felt in his stomach quickly faded away once he took sight of
his owlet.

Almost completely covered in a clear glop,
this little owlet squirmed about in the stick-built nest. He cared
not for the cool air surrounding him, he cared not for the fact
that he could not see; all he could think of now was where on Earth
he was.

Inhaling the air surrounding his owlet,
Ulpheir was able to point out his child exposed a male’s scent.
“It’s a boy!” he exclaimed. “What should we call him?”

Startled, it had taken Sahemawia a while to
come up with the perfect name for her son. With so many names she
had heard of, it was no wonder her decision hadn’t popped up
instantly.

In the midst of her thoughts, Sahemawia took
notice of her blind son staring idly into the sky—through the
hollow’s wood and even through his own eyelids. Looking in the same
direction as her son, Sahemawia twisted her flexible neck to take
sight of a large, full moon sitting out in the sky. A look of awe
flashing in her eyes, Sahemawia asked herself,
Is he trying to
take a look at the moon?

After a pause of silence, Sahemawia turned
her gaze off of her son and softly told Ulpheir, “Let’s call him
Leyoht.”

Giving a small sigh of joy, Ulpheir
complimented, “What a beautiful name!” Over and over again, he
repeated this name in his head; just the thought of listening to
this name caused his heart to race.

“Isn’t he a cutie?” Sahemawia asked, bending
over to get a better view of her son. Two eyelids sealing a group
of magnificently yellow eyes rested near the top of his face. Like
his parents, both his beak and his legs gave off a black color.
Surrounding most of his body was a layer of thin, gray, fluffy
down—yet still he remained mostly pink in appearance.

“I just wish I could squeeze him!” Ulpheir
complained with a squeal surpassing his voice. Turning his gaze
down toward his own feet, he explained after releasing a sigh, “But
I don’t want to crush him.”

In response, Sahemawia gave a quick nod with
a slightly humorous smile passing her face. A spark of memory
flashing through her mind at that moment—and she flashed her gaze
toward Ulpheir when she asked him, “Do you still have the
worm?”

Taking a look into his left talon, Ulpheir
flinched when he took sight of the nearly-deceased arthropod. He
had been so dumbstruck by the sight of his newborn son; he had
forgotten why he had missed Leyoht’s birth in the first place!

“I have it right here,” Ulpheir assured his
mate, placing the worm in her outstretched talon.

“Thanks.” Turning back over to her son, she
placed a warm smile on her face. Her talon outstretched to Leyoht,
Sahemawia allowed the young owl to slowly find his way toward his
meal.

After a moment of struggle, he ran into his
mother’s outstretched talon, causing his beak to land in the worm’s
cool skin. Seeing the worm as food, Leyoht grabbed it with his beak
and began to inhale this meal into his tiny stomach. Such food
tingled the owlet’s tongue with more intensity than he could
possibly imagine.

It had taken a while, but Leyoht was able to
finish his meal with a filled stomach. Keeping their eyes close to
their son, neither of his parents missed a single moment of his
dining. Shortly after Leyoht had finished his meal, he witnessed a
great tiredness raining over him.

Taking notice of her son letting out a large
yawn, Sahemawia carefully came into the nest to comfort the young
hatchling.
Don’t’ wanna step on him. Or sit on him!
Once he
came in contact with his mother, Leyoht pressed himself up against
her feathers as he slowly nodded off to sleep. Such a sight caused
Sahemawia to yawn herself.

“I’ll leave you both alone,” Ulpheir informed
the two tired owls upon witnessing Sahemawia’s tiredness. Very
stealthily, he made his way to the rim of his hollow and took a
look into the stars above his head.

Oh, what a night
, he thought.
Our
egg finally hatched; I’m finally a father!
Such thoughts
allowed to him feel the powers of authority, the perplexity of
integrity, the strengths of love. However, even a father of his age
could not remain awake forever—regardless of his excitement.

Tiredness quickly began to shroud Ulpheir’s
head as he continued to curl his talons around the edge of his
hollow. His eyes locked onto the moon, he took notice of a large,
dark-gray cloud enveloping the moon’s beautiful white shine. The
cloud brought with it a skin-chilling breeze, causing Ulpheir to
shiver.