Chapter Text
There is one visit to Serenes Forest that Tibarn remembers vividly: though he did not know it would turn out to be his last.
As King of the Hawk tribe, Tibarn was proud of many advances he had led during his rule, but none more than the strengthening of the diplomatic bonds between his people and the Herons. Tibarn visited Serenes personally quite often, staying within the borders of Serenes for weeks on end to alleviate the large distance separating the two lands. It was in these situations that he was glad that Ulki and Janaff were capable of maintaining Phoenicis in his absence, despite the few diplomatic fires Tibarn would need to extinguish upon his return.
It was during these countless trips and discussions with King Lorazieh that Tibarn learned of the world of Beorc. As the Hawk tribe are naturally isolationists, with exception of their neighbors of Kilvas and the Herons, it was through Lorazieh that Tibarn was able to form his opinion of Beorc. The peace-loving Lorazieh had never disparaged Beorc, leaving a lasting impression on Tibarn-- it encompassed everything that Tibarn respected in Herons: their ability to survive in this world without the need to be strong. Lorazieh was a leader far greater than Tibarn, capable of swaying audiences without raising his voice and leading his people with a compassion unmatched in any other.
But there is one visit that Tibarn remembers vividly: though he did not know it would turn out to be his last at the time.
It seemed that the world of Beorc politics had been turbulent recently; their discontent with their Laguz Neighbors escalating beyond anything they’d known before. Though Tibarn usually did not care for the going-ons of men, their nonsense affected Serenes as well. Tibarn was glad to give his input: stay away from the humans, and let them fight their own battle with the Mad King-- it was no concern of the Laguz. But Lorazieh saw it differently: if their neighbors needed help, the Herons would provide it where they could. It frustrated Tibarn to no end, but Lorazieh remained firm in his stubbornness: Serenes would not stand idle. After hours of back-and-forth, Lorazieh had stopped their meeting for the day, claiming that Tibarn had let his emotions speak for him and not his mind-- and perhaps Lorazieh had been correct.
He had been sleeping in the royal guest room, resting his mind after a long day of discussions. A sixth sense had awoken him, as his nostrils started to fill with the blunt stink of soot and his ears bled with screams of agony. Rushing out of his room, his eyes could only absorb the fierce intensity of orange: a blazing inferno, as far as he his eyes could see. Serenes was alight, and the Herons were dying.
Jumping down from his room in the trees, he raced to find the Royals, stopping only to help a nameless Heron, shoving fiery fallen trunks trapping the Heron within his home. With the obstacle removed, Tibarn instructed him to take flight– to get as far away from here as he could.
Before he could finish, a loud crack resounded as an ancient tree buckled, weakened by the fires. It fell towards them, pulverizing both had Tibarn not turned to protect them with the brunt of his right arm. Tibarn roared as sharp, burning branches and dug into his face and arm, shouldering the tree away and repeating his command.
It sickened Tibarn to see countless Heron feathers tinged with disgusting colors of soot black, this fire tainting their hearts and bodies. Many could not gather the strength to move, Tibarn found– their compassion for the hearts of their suffering brothers and sisters sapped all of their energy, leaving them grounded and feeble.
There was little self-hatred Tibarn carried within his heart, but he would never be able to forgive himself for transforming into a hawk and them behind to seek King Lorazieh and his sons and daughters. Even though he knew he could never have saved any of the Heron he had abandoned on top of Reyson and Lorazieh, he had turned his back on people who had needed help: a shame upon all Hawks.
How great was his joy when he found the King and Reyson; Tibarn had never felt more grateful for his eyes than in that moment. A sharp dive brought him to the two as he immediately assessed the situation: Lorazieh seemed unresponsive, and a very sickly-seeming Reyson attempted to invigorate the King with a song-- in vain, it seemed. Gripping Reyson’s arm, Tibarn barked: “Your siblings?” With just a shake of the head and an anguished face as a response, Tibarn knew what he had to do. “Can you fly?” A frantic shake of the head in response.
Hoisting Lorazieh up onto his back, he pulled Reyson to his feet. “We’re going,” Tibarn commanded. He hadn’t heard Reyson’s muted answer, drowned by the chaos around him, nor had Tibarn asked, but he knew what the words were: names. Leanne. Rafiel. Lillia. “No time,” Tibarn growled, yanking the Heron up, his strength easily overpowering Reyson’s best attempts at escaping his grip to find his siblings. He hoists Reyson up onto his back, sparing one arm to secure Reyson and the other to hold Lorazieh.
With two powerful flaps of his wings, he takes the two up and out of the fire. It was only in the air that he could realize the scope of the situation: no Heron would have the endurance to fly far enough to escape this inferno, especially not their sickly physical state. It simply covered too much area. Tibarn could very well be carrying the last two members of the Heron tribe.
That was the thought that kept him going, keeping exhaustion at bay as he made haste for Phoenicis. He looked down at Reyson, who had become dead-weight, having fallen unconscious. He was lucky Herons were as light as they looked, or this rescue would have been doomed before he could reach Goldoa.
He tended to his own wounds and the Herons during short break stops in Goldoa, concerned that the Herons might never wake up from their coma. When he reached the sea, he worked to clean the Heron’s feathers with its waters as he rested for the last stretch to Phoenicis.
It was within Phoenicis’ Hall’s rooms that Tibarn nursed Prince Reyson and King Lorazieh, waiting anxiously for both to awake. He deemed himself their protectors, and solemnly swore that nothing could ever overcome the last remaining Herons ever again.