Chapter Text
“Once upon a time,” Scar began, looking up at his captive audience of two. His face held an enigmatic smile, and he read from an old book, pages splayed open in one calloused hand.
“A single droplet of moonlight fell from the heavens, and from this small drop of moon grew a magic flower. It had the ability to heal the sick, and injured.” Scar traced the illustrations on the well-worn picture book. They were done in flowing watercolour, dream-like but realistic. The plum-coloured petals of the flower were so detailed they were almost tangible, velvety and vivid. His index finger halted on the shadowy backdrop to the scene, where a dark figure lurked - so hidden that Scar had missed it, the first time he read this book.
“You see that figure, there?” He pointed out to his companions. “They’ll be important, later.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. Then, like nothing had happened, he flipped the page and joyfully resumed his narration.
“Well, centuries passed, and a hop, skip and a boat ride away there grew a kingdom! The kingdom was ruled by a beloved King and Queen. And the Queen? Well, she was about to have a baby. But she got sick. Really sick.” Scar frowned, looking up from the picture book in his hands. His storytelling was paying off, he noted - both companions looked concerned, even though he was sure they knew the story by heart as well as he did. Green butterfly wings fluttered nervously before settling down, flat on his friend’s back. “She was running out of time, and that’s when people usually start to look for a miracle. Or in this case, a magic purple flower.” He turned the page again, carefully. The figure was back - this time taking up the whole page, emanating an eerie purple glow, long fingers wrapped around the flower delicately, with a graceful care that juxtaposed their ominous presence. There were cracks throughout their form, however, glowing in the same purple light as the flower. The largest crack cut across the mask on their face, which was blank but for a small symbol - a broken purple rectangle. “See, I told you they’d be important!” He winked at his companions. Both leaned forwards slightly, captivated by the illustrations and Scar’s storytelling. The cat-hybrid waved her tail back and forth in the air in a curious manner. “You see, instead of sharing the moon’s gift, the Watcher hoarded its healing power and used it to maintain their form for hundreds of years. All they had to do was speak in a forgotten language…” He trailed off as he turned the page, allowing his listeners to take in the strange text from a forgotten time.
‘⎓ꖎ𝙹∴ᒷ∷ ʖᒷᔑᒲ ᔑリ↸ ⊣ꖎ𝙹∴, ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍∷ !¡𝙹∴ᒷ∷ ᓭ⍑╎リᒷ, ᒲᔑꖌᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓵꖎ𝙹ᓵꖌ ℸ ̣ ⚍∷リ ʖᔑᓵꖌ, ʖ∷╎リ⊣ ʖᔑᓵꖌ ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ 𝙹リᓵᒷ ∴ᔑᓭ ᒲ╎リᒷ, ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ 𝙹リᓵᒷ ∴ᔑᓭ ᒲ╎リᒷ’
Scar shifted the page slightly so that it caught the light. The letters scintillated, evoking a coo of delight from his calico-hybrid companion.
Another page turned, and this time the cracks that had previously marred the Watcher’s countenance were gone. Scar grinned at his companions’ disconcerted expressions. “Alright, you get the gist. They speak to it, they reform. Creepy.” His listeners nodded, and he turned the page again. There was no text, so he allowed his friends to experience the illustrations in silence. The page exhibited two men, garbed in the sigils of Corona’s royal guard, discovering the flower. The next page showed the glittering purple flower submerged in a cup of shimmering liquid. He smiled at the illustration - this page was Scar’s favourite.
“The magic of the purple flower healed the Queen.” He sighed happily. “A healthy baby boy - a beautiful Prince was born!” Scar smiled at his companions and turned the page once more. It exhibited a small child in an ornate crib, in the midst of innocently giggling at his parents. And on his back, stretching to either side- “With beautiful, rainbow-coloured wings.” Scar finished, and he touched the watercolour thoughtfully. The wings, patterned like a banded Scarlet Macaw’s, were intricately detailed. He could almost feel the texture of feathers underneath his fingertips.
His expression turned gloomy before he even turned the page. His companions, knowing what was to come, settled themselves with similarly stony expressions. “To celebrate his birth, the King and Queen launched a flying lantern into the sky - and for that one moment, everything was perfect.” Scar’s gaze lingered on the glowing lantern on the page. Then, with a sigh, he reached the final page of the book. “And then that moment ended.”
The last page was stormy and dark, filled with a purple glow that seemed to emanate from the worn paper. “The Watcher broke into the castle, stole the child, and just like that-” He slammed the book shut with a force that sent leaves fluttering into the air. “Gone.” Scar said, and the word rang out around the woody clearing.
“The kingdom searched and searched, but they could not find the Prince.” Scar murmured. “The King and Queen succumbed to their grief, and now the Steward of Corona wants to take over the throne.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his cloak and thrust it onto the gnarled Oak stump he’d been using as a table. As it unravelled, it revealed a poster, torn from the walls of the kingdom, advertising the Steward’s coronation.
His two companions stared in shock. Thieves by name and nature, they were two of the dwindling group of people Scar could trust with his life. To the right sat a feline hybrid by the name of Lizzie. Her waist-length, pastel pink hair fell around her face, and two fluffy ears with the markings of a Calico pressed close to her head. Her hands had paw pads on the palms and fingers, and her tail lashed in annoyance.
To the left, her husband. Joel was a butterfly hybrid, but to assume that meant that he was delicate and harmless was many people’s downfall. His veined green wings fluttered nervously, and the antennae on his head curled and uncurled restlessly.
“We can’t let the coronation happen.” Lizzie bit her lip, lowering her voice as the wind rushed through the canopy above like an eavesdropping spirit. “Ren has been a terrible steward. Corona is in economic ruin.”
Joel nodded in agreement. “Besides, the Prince is still out there somewhere. He has to be. We have to leave the throne vacant so he can take his rightful place one day.”
Scar smiled. “I knew you two would agree with me.” He stood up slowly and stepped back, one foot behind the other. Positioned in the dappled sun like a spotlight, arms spread wide in invitation, he levelled the two thieves with a challenging grin.
“How do you feel about stealing a crown?” He asked them.
Joel and Lizzie looked at each other, and within a split second, they’d had a whole conversation with their eyes. Wearing matching grins, they stood in tandem.
Joel shouldered his crossbow and Lizzie strapped her sword to her waist, eyes gleaming like the cat who got the cream.
“We’re in.”