Photo credit: Yinglan
The hollow perfectly fit Terragon’s weak body. By moonset, nothing of him would remain. Death had been nipping at his wings since yesterday. He had barely outwitted that ravenous crow. And now, huddled in a hollow of the ground, he was ready to die.
Out here, that was the way of things. Nothing could live in such desolation, nothing except crows, shadows, and the odd deformed tree. Certainly not him. He had lost hope eons ago. Was it eons? Time didn’t matter now. Nothing did.
His wings fluttered once, then lay limp.
A voice. Impossible. Terragon drew a final breath.
“Highness, please! Wake!”
Words. How long had he starved for words, alone in his banishment? He breathed again and with his last strength forced his leaden eyes to open.
A stranger’s face greeted him, yet it was a face similar to his own. His own kind, not a raven, not a shadow-being, but a fae.
“Highness,” whispered the stranger, “you must live. I have found a way for you to return.”