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A golden mist gathers before me. I look around to see that all my companions are flying away from me. My vision of them was shrouded by a bright light, leaving me alone with it. No, leaving me alone with her.
It was Strix Struma.
As if I were in a haze, I blink again. My eyes go misty. As long as I can remember, I deduced that scrooms were merely figments of the imagination, one that is all too convenient for grieving owls – a statement that I neither questioned nor blamed on those who believe in them. For the longest time, I feel like the only sober owl at a celebration full of drunks, only to find out that I was the drunk one all along.
I propel myself towards her, warm gusts of wind guiding my mortal wings. Adjusting my eyesight, I look at where her eyes used to be. Her whole body is made of glittering dust, dancing around her like a galaxy of stars.
Finally, I open my beak, ‘I believe, Strix Struma! I believe in you.” My words come out soft but doubtlessly firm.
The corners of her starry beak go slightly upwards, and her eyes are also smiling. ‘Yes, dear. And what a fine night it is. It is a night for heroes and young kings,’ she pauses for a brief moment without breathing, ‘And now my business on Earth is finished.’
A tear fights its way out of my left eye; it is time to say goodbye. Yet, two words take over my beak. ‘I believe… I believe… I believe,’ the whispering grows softer and softer as I speak, my body still hovering in the sky.
As I continue my quiet chant, Strix Struma dissolves into the night, the starlight glowing dimmer and dimmer. A few specs of stardust are scattered upon the top of my head and my shoulders.
Breaking from my trance, the night grows dark again. The glowing dust disappears, but the wonder remains.
As morning approaches, I yawn and return to my hollow after checking in on Coryn, who is exhausted after such a long flight and having the weight of the whole tree thrust upon him. Landing on the perch just outside my hollow, I brush the invisible dust off my shoulders, but it does not budge.
Like Coryn, I too am exhausted after such a long night. Yet, I feel a sudden urge… no, a mission to write about the very figure who led Coryn and me to each other. Really, without her, there would be no new king of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. It was only then that a subtle spout of sorrow hit me, that this is the last time I will ever see my dear Strix Struma.
This is the end of the road, I suppose; it is really time for her to go.
Maybe I should let go of her. That’s what she would have wanted, I think. I grab my quill from the ink it was standing on and begin to write about an event she had never told anyone, not even me.
…
‘You were so cool on the battlefield!’
‘How do you feel about your triumph in battle?’
‘Good Glaux, it’s her!’
The young Strix Struma had just woken up from her slumber. The Battle of Little Hoole had only ended a few nights ago, but it was finally time to go, time to say goodbye to this Glaux-forsaken place she had once loathed. Only a week ago, those same owls would not give her the time of night, but now, she could not walk past a hallway without causing a commotion. She held her head high; it felt good to be important.
As she was nearing an opening, she turned to her admirers and said, ‘If you don’t mind, I need some fresh air. Don’t worry, I’ll come back in no time,’ she winked before flying off into the night.
Still, she was not left alone. As soon as she flew away, a Great Grey Owl caught up to her, flying behind her by a tail feather. ‘Struma, Struma,’ he yelled, panting.
She did not recognise that voice; the military academy was not a big school. He must not have been a student there. Mildly confused, she turned her head. ‘Yes?’ She stopped by on a nearby perch so he could catch up to her.
‘This is very important.’ His head was twitching around. Now that Struma had a better look at him, he looked about her age, possibly younger. ‘I have a message from King H’rathmore.’
The Spotted Owl’s first reaction was to churr, ‘Sir, you got the wrong owl!’ Even after she finished speaking, her laughter did not stop.
The owl blinked, his head twitching again. ‘But… you’re Struma, right?’
It was clear from his mannerisms that this young owl was an inexperienced messenger. There was no way in Hagsmire that a king would hire someone like that. Her first thought was, is Firthmore that down on its luck? Just in case it wasn’t some elaborate prank, she hid all of her doubts and scorn for this unfamiliar royal house. ‘Yes, that would be me,’ she answered calmly.
The owl handed her an envelope sealed with what looked like an authentic crest of the house. She opened the envelope, and the Great Grey turned away without leaving.
Strix Struma began reading the letter.
To my dearest Miss Struma,
Congratulations on defeating the Ice Talons in that daunting battle. As my subjects would not stop talking about your exceptional performance, I believe that it is a fine time to host a ball in your honour at my palace.
From what I have heard, you have not been formally debuted in high society yet. I hereby invite you and your parents to join us at my palace for our Long Night celebration. It will last for seven days, as I believe that a maiden as brave as you deserves a grand debut.
I look forward to seeing you and your family there.
Glauxspeed,
King H’rathmore of Firthmore
Struma’s eyes widened as she read the letter. In spite of her upbringing, this was the first time a monarch had ever spoken to her. Although it was short and sweet, it sent her heart racing. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, she thought. My parents are going to be so excited! As much as she would like to kick her feet in excitement, she could not be so crass in front of a member of the royal court. She turned back to the messenger who was waiting there anxiously, she flashed a cordial smile and said, ‘Thanks, I’ll be there. I will tell my parents about it when I see them.’
The messenger owl smiled back, ‘And I shall tell His Majesty that you will be there.’ He then vanished as quickly as he came.
Shortly thereafter, she made her way to the fortress’s entrance. There, General Kai and her parents were waiting for her.
‘Struma, you’re still alive!’ bellowed her mother, reaching her wings to touch her daughter’s face.
‘Finally,’ said her father in a neutral tone as he turned his face to the side. ‘General Kai told us all about what you’ve done. I’m proud of you, Struma.’
The young owl had never been so happy to see her parents again. For the first time in a good long while, they were not barrating her. Struma mustered up a cool grin, ‘Have a little faith in your daughter, Mum.’
Her father turned his face disk to Struma, patting her in the pack. ‘It’s time to leave, let’s go.’
Instead of following her parents, Struma’s talons were glued in place. She took one last look at the fortress’s icy walls. Although sealed in ice, the fortress was no longer cold. Even when Sarissa was gone, her warmth still lingered there. A single tear fell from her left eye; it was time to say goodbye.
Before she moved her first step, General Kai leaned towards Struma and whispered into her ear, ‘Well done, Strix Struma.’ A quiet joy swept through her. Her parents must have heard it too, for they were giving each other a gentle smile of approval.
~
Such serene moments lasted until Strix Struma whipped out the letter from King H’rathmore. Even before she opened the letter, her parents could recognise the now torn open wax seal.
‘Am I seeing things, Hurth?’ asked her mother, Strix Otulinn, swaying her head to her mate, her eyes as wide as ice cubes.
Her father squinted at the seal and then to Strix Struma’s dead serious face. Instead of answering his mate, he asked Strix Struma, ‘Daughter, are you suggesting…’
Strix Struma did not respond right away. Her father had cut himself off from sheer shock or awe. Before speaking, she nodded. ‘Yes. This letter is from King H’rathmore.’ Carefully, she took out the letter and read it to her parents.
Her parents’ shock turned into unadulterated joy.
‘You’re going to have the time of your life!’ Exclaimed her father.
‘Our unkempt daughter having a royal debut?’ Her mother was smiling from ear slit to ear slit. ‘Good Glaux! Am I dreaming?’ Strix Struma could feel her mother’s urge to jump up and down like an owlet.
Strix Struma lingered a bit on the word unkempt. As backhanded as her mother’s statement sounded, she did not have the heart to confront her about it.
With all the pride in her gizzard, Strix Struma felt like she could fly without her wings. It was all too perfect, almost enough to forget about Sarissa… If only she could forget about her. All of the joyful moments after the battle seemed like a beautiful dream she had crafted to cope with the death of her dear mentor. Unable to decipher between dream and reality, she stood there and stared blankly at her parents.
Instead of scolding her like she always did, her mother waved her starboard wing at Strix Struma. ‘Daughter, are you alright?’ She paused, cocking her head to check if her dear daughter was in a trance, ‘I know that this debutante stuff is a lot to take in, but I’m sure King H’rathmore’s court will love you.’
Strix Struma shook her head and muttered, ‘it’s not that…’ but it must have been inaudible since her parents did not respond to her.
It was the beginning of winter, and the family had almost half the season to prepare for the ball.
~
Through the etiquette lessons and dance classes, her reality felt all the more surreal. It was even odder that she was never invited to Sarissa’s Final Ceremony, something she was about to bring up to her parents.
The sun was setting over the icy mountains. Although Strix Struma had made it a habit to wake up early, it was uncommon for her to wake up now.
She sighed; her final etiquette class wouldn’t start until midnight. It would be wise to go back to sleep, but the image of Sarissa’s death amidst the deafening battle cries was replaying in her restless mind. The memories were somehow more real to her than the too-good-to-be-true events that happened after that.
As the sky turned from orange to a dark lavender, her father woke up. Seeing his melancholic daughter, her father approached her. ‘What’s wrong, daughter? Your debut party starts in a week, you should be happy.’ There was no judgment or the urge to say ungrateful little brat in his voice, only concern and confusion.
Strix Struma turned from the clear sunset to her father, her voice low and soft. ‘Father,’ she bellowed, ‘Why was I never invited to Sarissa’s Final Ceremony? Or any of my fallen comrades’, for that matter?’
Her father exhaled, forming a white fog around his beak. He put a wing on her back. That’s just how soldiers do things. Unless the deceased is of royal blood, a soldier will be sent off in one big farewell ceremony for everyone who has fallen in that battle.’
Her eyes narrowed, her view becoming misty. ‘Really? That’s so cruel.’ It was as clear as the full moon that a soldier had to risk one’s life for the greater good, but it all just felt very wrong. Soulless, almost.
He patted her on the back, ‘War is cruel, my dear. You should be familiar with the fact by now.’ His voice turned colder and more calculated, the same voice he would speak in when planning a battle.
She blinked, lowering her head. ‘Yes, of course.’
Her father’s voice was lively again, a remarkably sharp twist. ‘Now, stop thinking about that. You’re going to be a debutante.’
Strix Struma continued sobbing.
He patted her again, ‘Try to think positively, there will be a long and happy era of peace ahead.’
Her crying stopped, but she did not feel the slightest desire to go back to sleep.
~
Strix Struma and her parents flew for five long nights to Firthmore. As morning approached, they found a modest hollow at the outskirts of the kingdom.
Even when Strix Hurth and Strix Otulinn were caked in snow, their first instinct was to preen their daughter. ‘You are NOT going to see the king looking like that,’ muttered her mother in between her preening.
As much as Strix Struma loathed their nagging, she agreed with them this time. The partially melted snow made her a soggy-looking thing with a few rebellious feathers sticking out. She looked more like a mop than a debutante. There was no way in Hagsmire she would look like this in front of the entire court.
She fell asleep to the preening and the talking, her muscles feeling mildly sore from all the flying.
It took them all but two more hours to arrive at their destination. Perched on a branch just outside the palace, the place wasn’t nearly as grand as expected. It was nothing like the Ice Palace she used to read about in the history books. Instead, it was a larger evergreen tree surrounded by a few smaller trees, which were in the middle of a snowy clearing.
Strix Struma squinted, ‘Is this the right place?’ She whispered.
Her parents did not answer her.
Soon, there were a couple of servants flying from hollow to hollow, carrying tray after tray of food. Then came another one, juggling a candelabra in her talons. By the way the owl was juggling with it, it must have been heavy. ‘Maybe it’s made of silver,’ mused Strix Struma.
Only then could she be certain that the invitation was not an elaborate prank, but even then, none of this registered as real in Strix Struma’s mind. Standing in the chilly air, she was expecting a gust of particularly cold wind to slap her awake from this beautiful dream.
The gust of wind never came. Instead, her mother turned to her and said, ‘Strix Struma, it’s time that we part ways.’
This was not a goodbye. According to her etiquette tutor, the debutante was supposed to enter from the back door as she had yet to be debuted into high society. Her parents were to be treated as regular guests, entering from the front door with the courtiers. Strix Struma nodded. Without saying a word, her parents each laid a wing on her shoulder. Knowing her parents, this must be the way for them to give her their blessings – a way to show affection without using their words.
A brief moment later, they quietly went their separate ways.
~
‘They will announce your name at any moment now,’ muttered a maid standing next to Strix Struma. Another maid kept her head down and continued carefully tidying the debutante’s feathers, which had gotten frazzled again under the harsh weather.
She blinked slowly, as if having just woken up from a deep slumber. There was no nervousness in her gizzard; if this was a dream, none of this mattered. ‘Yes,’ she said and fell silent again.
A Great Grey Owl from just outside the curtains took a very audible deep breath and announced, ‘Strix Struma, please come forward before the curtain!’ His voice was deep and authoritative, ushering the whole crowd to stare at the opaque curtains.
The maid gave Strix Struma’s leg a light kick, hinting for her to brace herself.
Two owls spread their wings to open the curtains before stepping to the side, making the debutante in everyone’s view. In turn, she got a glimpse of the throneroom. It was filled with murals depicting various ornamental plants. In the middle of it was the crest of the royal family, the same one that appeared on her letter.
The court’s quiet chatter became livelier. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, looking down from her balcony to see a large crowd staring back at her.
As instructed by her tutor, she glided down to the middle of the room in one familiar swoop. She could hear the tutor’s voice in her head, ‘Think of yourself as a performer, you’re acting as a version of you that you would like the court to see.’ She didn’t think the court wanted to see a slacker who would rather sleep through the winter, or a sappy owl who was still in mourning. She gave the crowd a deep curtsey. Yes, this is it. Look at how poised and unfazed I am!
The owls stared at her in awe. Being so up close with everyone, she could hear the courtiers’ whispers a little clearer.
‘She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?’
‘She’s so poised, her parents must have raised her well!’
‘A Strix, eh? I wonder how she got that title.’
She looked up in search of her parents. There they were, nodding approvingly.
There was yet another familiar figure at the corner of the room, one that had been haunting her mind for months. Sari… she thought, but as soon as she stood up and had a proper look at the Snowy Owl, she saw a shadow flicking behind her from the candlelight. It’s my saviour, it Baron? Ber… Bor… she gave up on recalling her name even as they made brief eye contact.
‘And here comes His Majesty!’ shouted the Great Grey Owl from before. Now that Strix Struma could have a better look at him, she recognised him as the owl who delivered her the letter. Only now, he looked way more dignified.
From a small opening on the top of the throneroom, a Spotted Owl flew in. The cool moonlight lit up his head and wings while the warm candlelight gave his frontside a warm, gentle light. The monarch wore a wreath completed with red berries, ones that were called mistletoe, according to her textbooks. He looked as if he was glowing; it was indeed a dramatic entrance fit for a king.
To Strix Struma’s surprise, the king landed right in front of her. She quickly lowered herself in a curtsey, and the courtiers did the same.
King H’rathmore said, ‘There is no need for such formality, my dear subjects.’ He raised his voice in excitement, ‘It’s time to have fun!’
The owls raised themselves, and so did Strix Struma. While the owls around her cheered in a joyous frenzy, Strix Struma stood there, spellbound at the king before her. The king looked not much older than her. Now that he wasn’t in such dramatic lighting, he looked far less regal than he had at first. Although he definitely had a toned body as any self-respecting royal would have, she could have easily mistaken him for any overconfident nobleman. He locked eyes with Strix Struma, beckoning her to come forward as a smug grin etched across his face.
Not wanting to displease him, she took a step forward and greeted him. ‘I’m honoured to be-’
Her words were cut short as the king turned his head towards a servant, ‘Dimitri, prepare for the ice scimitars.’ His tone was flat and a little curt, barely containing the excitement within him.
A quiet as a mouse, the servant went to the corner of the room and returned with two ice scimitars, hardly able to hold them in his tiny talons.
Strix Struma stared at him in disbelief. Typically, a spar during times of peace was used to resolve disputes where diplomacy had failed. Confused, she blinked, ‘Your Majesty, have I crossed you? We haven’t met in the past!’
King H’rathmore broke out in a maniacal laughter before reaching a talon to grab a scimitar. ‘Relax, Strix Struma.’ He directed the blade towards the debutante, its tip almost poking her beak. ‘I just want some entertainment for our guests, considering fighting is what got you famous.’ His tone grew gentler, ‘May I have the honour of sparring with you?’
Why couldn’t he ask me for a dance instead? She gulped; she did not want to face a performance so reminiscent of war so soon. Yet, she failed to muster up the courage to reject a king in his own court. She nodded and feigned a calm tone. ‘My pleasure.’
The servant handed her the blade.
‘Music!’ exclaimed King H’rathmore, and the orchestra of harps and drums broke out into a thrilling waltz.
Wasting no time, the king flew low above the ground, directing the scimitar right above Strix Struma’s head, slicing the slightest bit of feather from her head.
‘Glaux-dammit,’ Strix Struma muttered beneath her breath, directing a blow just below King H’rathmore’s talons, being careful to be a threat to him while not accidentally committing regicide.
‘That’s a close one,’ his tone was calm yet enthusiastic, perhaps complimenting her. He sliced his scimitar right before the debutante, only for her to block it with hers.
The blocking was taking all the strength in Strix Struma’s body. King H’rathmore was indeed a formidable opponent.
The two were locked in a stalemate. Enduring the crushing weight of each other’s talons, they locked eyes with one another. ‘You have pretty eyes, Strix,’ he said teasingly.
The debutante’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you trying to distract me?’ She felt a sudden burst of energy in her body. She was unsure where the power came from, only that there was a gust of wind blowing behind her. She pushed his scimitar away with all the strength she had, causing King H’rathmore to fall a few metres behind.
A couple of seconds later, he stood up, clutching tightly to his scimitar, lest it threaten to fall from his talon again. His breathing became rapid and shallow, a satisfied smirk on his face. ‘You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?’ He lunged at her and shouted, ‘Just how I like it!’
Strix Struma’s pupils dilated by the image of the king slashing at her. She froze there, unable to move. The image before her quickly shifted to one of an enemy soldier aiming his sword at her heart, almost killing her in the process. ‘Ah.’ She said. She was unable to scream.
Yet another gust of wind blew into the room. This time, it caused the king to fly backwards, preventing him from attacking Strix Struma. Finally, he had come back to his senses. He blinked, slowly standing up again. ‘That was a good match,’ he smiled at Strix Struma. ‘You are a good fighter.’
The music stopped, making the courtiers’ muttering all the more obvious.
They totally saw my freezing there, thought Strix Struma, taking deep breaths as she looked at her opponent. ‘Thank you for your compliment, Your Majesty. You fought wonderfully.’
There was a sense of regret in the king’s eyes; perhaps he finally figured out that she did not want to fight him at all. Yet, he said nothing to confirm Strix Struma’s speculations. ‘Now, let’s put our weapons away.’ He dropped his scimitar. ‘Can I have this dance?’
Likewise, Strix Struma dropped her weapon. Although her first impression of him was not great, it was not like she had the choice to say no. The court was his playground, and at that moment, she was his favourite toy. Through the panting, she managed to mutter a hesitant, ‘Yes.’
So, they danced the graceful Glaucana as strolling instruments played. In the meantime, Strix Struma could not help but notice the hostile glares she was getting from various courtiers. Perhaps they were jealous of the attention she was getting, or maybe they wished that their daughters could have this opportunity instead. Nervous, she leaned in to King H’rathmore’s ear slit. ‘I think you should choose someone else for the next dance,’ she whispered.
Instead of murmuring something back to her, the king let out a loud laugh. ‘My dear, are you tired already? In that case, we shall dance the entire night!’ Then, he took the debutante for a spin.
To Strix Struma’s relief, King H’rathmore only danced with her until midnight before growing tired himself. Throughout the dance, his eyes had a childish smugness to them. One that she had speculated, delighted with the thought of exhausting his favourite toy.
Throughout the night, the king was still eyeing her while she was enjoying the refreshments or dancing with other owls. Sometimes, she would shudder at how much he was looking at her.
Strix Struma was all too glad to finally get some rest in the guest hollow in the morning. The hollow was located in one of the surrounding trees. It was a decently-sized hollow for three owls. The room was decorated with tapestries similar to the ones in the throne room. Except that they had decorative patterns on them instead of the royal crest.
Strix Otulinn looked around the hollow, ‘Isn’t this place lovely?’ Through her tired eyes, there was a happy glint in them. ‘The king’s sister arranged the accommodation for us, how thoughtful.’
‘Unlike the king,’ huffed Strix Struma. After a long night of fake smiles and compliance, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
‘Oh, daughter,’ said her mother, turning to Strix Struma with furrowed tufts above her eyes. She raised her voice. ‘Don’t be so ungrateful, many young ladies dreamt of this opportunity their whole lives!’
A sense of anger boiled in Strix Struma’s mind. It was not like she did not want to attend the ball, just that the king should have been more considerate. ‘Their faces say it all, mother!’ She shouted, ‘They’re desperate to be his playthings, and quite frankly, I’M NOT!’
Her mother cocked her head to look down at her daughter. ‘I thought you’d come to your senses, but it appears that you’re still an immature fledgling.’ Her tone was calm and condescending.
Strix Struma had always found it unnerving when her mother spoke to her that way, as it would often be followed by a full night of her not talking at all. She wilfed and retreated to her nest furthest away from her mother, trying to tuck herself in.
The deafening silence would not last long as the Great Grey messenger knocked on their hollow. ‘His Majesty has a letter for the debutante,’ he said.
Strix Hurth nudged his daughter to go and greet the messenger.
Strix Struma was half asleep. She fluttered her eyes open. ‘Yes, father?’
‘The king has a letter for you, his messenger is waiting for you at our door,’ he replied.
With slow movements, Strix Struma got up on both legs and walked towards the hollow’s entrance.
‘Father said you have a letter for me,’ she said politely, her words slightly slurred as her eyelids grew heavy.
‘It’s from His Majesty,’ he added before handing the letter to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said in a low voice before disappearing to read it in her nest.
Likewise, the messenger flew off into the daylight.
With her back facing her parents, she read the letter.
To my dearest Strix Struma,
After enjoying a wonderful evening with you, as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I can tell, she scoffed.
Your mellow laughter and witty banter left an everlasting mark on my gizzard. I would like to propose that we begin our courtship. I will come and meet your parents at your guest hollow at the end of the seventh night.
I shall have no choice but to blame you for my lack of sleep today.
Yours truly,
King H’rathmore of Firthmore
Even if he were the king, his audacity was astounding. It stood out to her the most that he didn’t even ask her for permission to court her. Perhaps he was too full of himself to acknowledge that it was only a night that had passed since she met him, and that they had only exchanged a few words.
Strix Struma’s body went hot in embarrassment, ‘Well, that came out of nowhere,’ she stared at the letter, confused.
Her father walked over, curious. ‘What did it say?’
She sighed and handed the letter to him.
A short moment passed before her father boomed, ‘OTULINN, THE KING WANTS TO COURT OUR DAUGHTER !’
Baffled, Strix Struma turned her head towards her father. His eyes were wide open, and so was his beak, peering at the letter in disbelief.
Her mother shot up from her nest and snatched the letter, reading it for herself. After that, she ran towards her daughter and suffocated her in a big hug. ‘My daughter has truly grown up,’ she paused. ‘Oh, Struma. I’m so proud of you!’
Strix Struma winced; had she not been enraged by her just a little while ago? She recoiled at the thought of taking such an inconsiderate male as a mate, but the cold tone her mother exhibited earlier still haunted her. She dared not displease her. Maybe King H’rathmore will surprise me.
Much like how the thought of Strix Struma disrupted the king’s slumber, there was no sleep in the guest hollow either.
~
The following nights were filled with celebration and joy. In particular, her parents were jollier than usual.
It wasn’t until the sixth night that Barran finally had a word with her.
The sun was just above the horizon, and the feast had ended. As Strix Struma was flying back to her guest hollow, a large white figure caught up to her. ‘Strix Struma, do you have a moment?’ That voice was a familiar one, one she could not quite put her talon on.
She turned her head almost all the way backwards; it was the same Snowy Owl she spotted on the first night. Now that the sun was rising, her white plumage was tinted orange. Combined with her black markings, she looked like a flying tiger. ‘Yes? Baron?’
‘It’s Barren,’ she corrected, her voice low. ‘I would like to talk to you about something.’
‘Something?’ She repeated. ‘What is it, exactly?’
‘Let’s go somewhere fewer owls can see us. I’m uncomfortable speaking about such a matter with so many prying ears.’
Strix Struma nodded. Her saviour wouldn’t save her life just to kill her now.
Barran’s voice grew just a little louder. ‘Care to join me for a flight? I don’t think I can sleep.’
I see what you’re doing here, she thought, careful to give her saviour’s plans away. ‘Sure! Me neither!’
With that, they flew off into the forest next to the clearing.
When they got far enough away from the palace, Strix Struma finally asked, ‘What do you want to tell me?’
Barran took a deep breath, ‘I know that you’ll likely not accept my proposal, but the monarchs of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree have invited me to teach there.’
‘The Great Ga’Hoole Tree?’ She had heard of the Great Tree from the history books that told the tale of Hoole growing the tree out of a tear he shed, that only a select few distinguished individuals would be invited there, and that among the owls of the Southern Kingdoms, its existence was highly contested.
The Snowy nodded, ‘Yes, the very one.’ She was talking about it like she was talking about the weather, something that baffled Strix Struma.
She blinked, ‘Is this a joke? Besides, why are you telling me about this?’ Then, her voice got softer as she narrowed her eyes, ‘Are you suggesting…’
Barran churred, likely expecting the response. ‘That I invite you to come with me?’
Strix Struma nodded, half expecting Barran to say no.
She churred a little more, ‘Of course! Why else would I tell you?’
The Spotted Owl lowered her head, almost laughing at herself. Then, her eyes met Barran’s again. ‘But why would you want me to join you?’
‘The king and queen said that I should invite some owls who will have the potential to be great Guardians,’ she paused. ‘From what I’ve heard about you, you can be a wonderful Guardian with some more learning.’
Once upon a very long time ago, in the time of Glaux, there was an order of knightly owls, from a kingdom called Ga’Hoole, who would rise each night into the blackness and perform noble deeds. They spoke no words but true ones, their purpose was to right all wrongs, to make strong the weak, mend the broken, vanquish the proud, and make powerless those who abuse the frail… The first words of the legends echoed through her mind; it was uplifting to think that all these words could one day describe her. She wondered if the Guardians were still as righteous as they were in the past, or if these words were merely myths, bedtime stories they tell to owlets.
There was also another thing stopping her from accepting Barran’s offer – courtship. If she ran off with Barran, her parents would be heartbroken that she was so reckless as to kill the potential of being a future queen. Strix Struma gulped at the thought of disappointing her parents again. Sighing, she said, ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumours just as you’ve heard about my learning, but-’ she began.
Barran raised her tiny ear tufts and listened attentively. ‘Hm?’
A melancholy filled up her gizzard, ‘The king wants to court me.’
To Strix Struma’s surprise, Barran appeared to be very calm at the news. ‘So it wasn’t just some courtier’s speculation?’
The debutante shook her head. ‘No. I received a letter from the king on the first night I came here. He’ll meet my parents tomorrow.’
Barran turned to look at the downtrodden Strix Struma, a subtle frown on the Snowy’s face. ‘I see, but why are you so sad? Do you want to court him?’
Strix Struma landed on a branch before her and remained silent for a long time. That’s a good question. ‘Well, my parents would be overjoyed if I do.’
Barran joined her on the branch, maintaining some distance between them. ‘I didn’t ask about your parents,’ she pressed, ‘I was asking about you. Do you want to marry King H’rathmore?’
The debutante took a deep breath and exhaled, ‘I don’t really like him. In fact, I find him to be childish and inconsiderate.’ Her eyes went misty, ‘But I love my parents, I… I just don’t want to be a disappointment anymore.’ Then, tears started to fall onto Strix Struma’s face uncontrollably.
Barran looked at the crying owl, confused as to what the right thing to do was. Hesitant, she stepped closer to Strix Struma and patted her on the back soothingly. ‘I’m not good at comforting owls, but there’s one thing to consider – both of these choices will change your life forever. If you marry someone you dislike, you are only going to resent him; if you leave home for a cause you don’t care about, you will only be homesick.’
Her stern, almost militant voice seemed to have the opposite effect on what she planned. Strix Struma was covering her face with her wings, retreating deeper into her own sadness.
So, Barran’s voice grew softer. ‘Only you have the power to decide your own destiny, Strix Struma. You can either stay in Firthmore, go to Ga’Hoole with me, or do neither. This is your life, not your parents’, nor is it mine.’
Barran was not much older than herself. Yet, the Snowy’s words were wise beyond her years. ‘You’re right, Barran,’ she said between sobs.
There was a ruffling in the wind, and a faint voice calling out, ‘That’s my daughter, and that’s the owl who left with her!’
Soon, Strix Struma and Barran were joined by her parents and two guards. Her mother flew to the branch opposite to Struma and said, ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Your father and I were so worried about you!’ Then, she turned to Barran, her tone turning hostile, ‘And who are you?’
‘I-’ before Barran could introduce herself, Strix Struma interrupted her.
‘This is Barran, a soldier who saved my life during the battle,’ her voice was calm. If it weren’t for the soaked feathers on her face disk, nobody could tell that she had been crying.
‘I’m a herald from the Bay of Fangs, a small kingdom on the northmost part of the Firth of Fangs. Her Majesty Queen Freyja sent me here as a representative,’ she said in a formal tone.
Strix Hurth nodded, still skeptical of Barran’s intentions, he questioned, ‘Why did you bring my daughter all the way out here?’
She pursed her beak and spoke a few seconds later, ‘As I was invited to become a teacher at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, I want to invite your daughter to train as a Guardian there. She has shown a great interest in learning and immense courage in battle,’ she turned to Strix Struma. ‘Your daughter has shown some interest in coming with me.’
Both of Strix Struma’s parents’ faces turned to stone. ‘Tell her that you’re going to court the king now,’ they urged. The air grew even tenser as soon as the words were muttered.
For a few seconds, Strix Struma did not say a word. Finally, she opened her beak, ‘I hate to disappoint you, Mother.’
The anger on her mother’s face morphed into sadness.
‘But I don’t like the king, for he will not be a good mate,’ she paused and looked at her mother dead in the eye. ‘It is unwise to marry the owl you think they will become. Please just let me take a chance with the Guardians.’
Her mother rushed to hug her, ‘Oh, my idiot daughter. You aren’t disappointing me at all, as being a Guardian is a noble thing. I shouldn’t have pressured you into courting King H’rathmore. I should have been more considerate.’
As this was happening, her father chimed in. ‘Don’t worry about the courtship, I figured that the king was too pompous to make for a good mate. I shall have a stern talk with him tomorrow when he visits us.’
Her mother added, ‘Just promise that you’ll visit us.’
Strix Struma nodded. ‘And I promise I’ll write back as soon as I get there.’
So, it was decided that Strix Struma would join Barran in going to the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, following the dancing stars in the sky to find their way there.
When King H’rathmore came to visit the family in the guest hollow, Strix Hurth talked down to the king, making him reconsider how he treats his courtiers and the females he was interested in. Years later, Strix Struma heard from her parents that the king had finally found a suitable mate whom he treated properly.
For seven years, until her parents’ passing, she sent tens of letters to them and managed to visit them three times.
It was speculated that the winds that protected Strix Struma during her spar with the king were the scroom of Sarissa, but she will have to go to Glaumora to ask her for sure.
…
Having finished my writing session, I look out of my hollow to find that the sky has turned a cool lavender tone, hinting that the night is about to begin. This is further confirmed by the delightful sound of Madame Plonk’s harp strumming the prelude to Evensong.
Because I have unknowingly been writing for an entire day, I yawned far louder than I usually would. Luckily, I have no classes today and no one, not even myself, can blame me for having a good night’s sleep.
As that thought appeared in my mind, the flickering stardust I felt earlier began to materialise into little golden stars and ascended into the aether as they danced across the brightening sky.
Although I will never dare to forget about my dear mentor, it is finally time I let her go.