#angas

Kastiya.

Zhask's breath hitched, but it wasn't of the cold.

He remembered the planet he once lived on. Where he grew up, albeit traumatically. Where he had nobody to befriend or to bully. Where he spent his days alone save for dinnertimes and specific sessions.

But it was home after all, and his sentimentality got the better of him.

He remembered how the musicians on the street rubbed their instruments together, enhancing the atmosphere of the farmer's market. He remembered how the little spawns, used to mercilessly annihilate various other weaker planets, became ever so docile and tame in the presence of the Kastiyan children. He remembered the clear crystalline sky and how often he'd stare into its abyss, hoping that one day his life could change for the better.

It probably did, it probably didn't. Who's to say? Stranded on a deserted island with a living colony on a powerful planet to call home... being hunted down by his lightyear-to-lightyear crush... seeking a Kastiya II....

Freedom was what he'd wished for, and he was free now, so why did it still feel wrong?

Choo-choo! went Zhask's train of thought and farther on it went as he sifted through all the good memories he could find of his life back in Kastiya. They were few and far between, punctuated by tasteless shame and wrongdoings, but they existed nonetheless. It was hard to find one he hadn't repeated a thousand times, but he still tried to revisit something at least.

A few moments later, he came upon a memory he hadn't indulged in in a long time.

He was just a little grub, plump and stuffed full with salad dressings, rotten wood, and nuts. A king's boy, a prince soon to be larger than his own two parents. A squishy little smile spread wide upon his face.

His birthday.

A few moments prior Zhask had just emerged from his cozy little egg (which was getting too big for him at the time) and greeted the world with a sniff of the air and the smells of the food it brought with it. Imagine that! climbing out of your humble abode and the first things you sensed were nutritious meals fit for a king! No wonder he grew up to be a foodie!

His first taste was that of decaying wood crackers and boy did he love it; so much so that even now he finds the time to traverse the Land of Dawn to gnaw on some trees. He had so much to eat, he remembered, that he almost didn't notice the procession he was being brought into.

And there Zhask caught a glimpse of his kingdom.

Cheers eurupted from the diverse crowd, excited to see their future monarch. Lights of all colours and shapes decorated the pathway. He was being paraded through the streets in a little earthy carry-on pouch he would soon outgrow. It was overwhelming, but as long as he had his leaves to chew on, he was certain everything would be alright.

He had his future told to him and choirs sung to his birth. He was given a tour of the entire planet with no space left uncovered. He was given various gifts from various individuals with various talents. He was even visited by a strange one-eyed figure, a magician he could no longer recall the name of, who became one of his only friends the world had to offer. They were no longer in touch now, but he hoped they could meet again soon.

Then came the moment he met his army. The Spawn. They bowed down to him and swore in their own chittering language to forever remain loyal to him and whatever cause he stood for.

And then it was time for bed. Thus the memory ended.

His first birthday. The most precious memory he'd kept for so long.

Zhask couldn't recall many other birthdays with similar proceedings or events. All others were mostly standard ones, nothing special (despite all of them being special in their own special way to him). There WAS one where he was given his staf- no that was the seventh anniversary of his coronation day.

A slight tap on his foot brought the wandering king back to reality. Looking down, he met a young spawn. It seemed freshly hatched and curious of the world.

Much like him when he was younger.

He knelt down and picked it up with barely any resistance save for a shocked bounce from it. It was small, smaller than the average size, but that was nothing to discriminate of. So was he, once.

The sentiment Zhask felt for this particular spawn grew into a blooming wheatfield and he affectionately decided to name it and officially designate it as his personal pet. Now if only he could find a name....

Now, he was one for creative names chock-full of symbolism. Which word should he pick for this little one. He thought it should be close to that of Domorey, the Nightmaric Spawn enslaved to his bidding.

Nightmaric... yes, Meric would do.

He spoke it, and the singular eye of the critter beamed bright red. Or at least presumably, given his apparent colour-blindness. No matter. The deal was sealed and now little Meric was precious to him.

Now where was he? Birthdays? No, back to the beginning. Yve? No, way farther back.

Ah yes.

What day was it?

Turning on his claws, Zhask trekked back to his cozy little haven. A small cove full of stolen trinkets and other miscellanous finds, with a few larger spawns guarding the area. Setting down Meric into a little wooden chair he built himself from driftwood, he began to sift through the yellowed pages of a record book by his nestside.

Fourteenth of January... twenty-fourth of March... first of April... ahh yes, toda-

Today was his birthday.

And he had completely forgotten about it.

Time seemed to pass by a lot slower in his current area so he still had some spare hours to spend. But what should he do?

He asked Meric, awaiting an answer, but the little spawn could only chirp and chitter out its reply. Food, sleep, kill, and other similar answers.

But he still wasn't satisfied, so he paced around his room.

Fortunately, his gaze came to turn upon a desk of documents worn with age. His old writings. He remembered the tales he used to string like fine-woven silk. His father never liked it, though his mother inspired him in any way she can. He'd always been a mama's boy as far as he could tell. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to his face.

Who knows if anybody was even still alive after the explosion?

Those cursed Mithlorians, meddling around with business they should've left for casual. Now instead of sportlike destruction, they had brought a plague upon the universe. Even the young Yve, he admitted reluctantly.

A sense of homesickness washed over him, and it seemed Meric could feel it too. It chirped a little click which caught Zhask's attention. Yes, going back to search Kastiya for anything was probably a good way to spend this special day. It was probably going to hurt him, but anything was better than staying one more second in this snowstorm.

So once more he picked up his precious Meric and, with a memo to his guards, set off to a place where he could safely teleport to Kastiya.

Tunneling below the Earth for about half a mile away from his base, he emerged from the ground and walked on five more, just to appease his inner anxieties. As soon as he saw that it was probably enough distance that he might not be traced back to his humble abode, he stopped in his tracks and set down Meric on the cold white powder underfoot.

For his tenth birthday, he had learned how to make portals, and the risks of them as well given how messed up the time-space continuum could get. He had made a few in his lifetime, and they had never failed him once. He wasn't frightened of the risks either, given how his mental capabilities were stronger than most other Kastiyans.

But he had to make this one last. He had an agenda in mind, and he was not holding back on it. He realised that he forgot to bring Domorey with him, but no matter. The space-time rift energy she had absorbed was majoratively transferred to him. He chuckled at the thought of the reason why Yve never caught up to him on time: every single time he passed through the portals, Domorey would suck just enough of its energy to alter its coordinate-perception and send Yve to a different area than him. And that energy he absorbed for backup purposes.

Catching himself up in his dilly-dallying again, Zhask refocused on the task at hand. A finger to his head, he focused his energy on the space infront of him.

Soon, a portal came to life before them, but not to Kastiya. This wasn't what he was looking for.

Reaching into the portal, he extended his claws and slowly curled them until at long last he managed to snag it on something. The fabric of space-time. He pulled on it and the portal burst. It would've killed most individuals, but he'd suffered worse. Also fortunately, poor little Meric was just out of blast-range so it remained unharmed, albeit a little shaken.

The risk was calculated, but the Planes Dominator was good at math. Lo and behold, there lay the foundations of what remained of Kastiya.

His heart sank. He remembered the day. He remembered the screams and shrieks of the young and the old, the strong and the poor, as the flames baked their bodies to a crisp. He could still hear the plagues to his nights, the decay of the only home he ever had. He could stil-

It seemed as if poor little Meric had had enough of this internal monologuing and went to pop its face into space. Its recklessness jolted the mourning king who slapped his face into his palm. Newborns. Absolute nightmares. Thank God he wasn't like that at all when he was younger, or else he would've been more than a centipede-handful for his poor servants and mother.

No worries though, it was space, and the little spawn ended up floating around and bouncing off asteroids in a little spinny square dance. It made Zhask chuckle. He was about to step into it as well when he thought of something he could do.

He placed a hint of rift energy in the folds of the portal.

This would attract Yve.

He had something to tell her.

Stepping through the portal at last, he came to be reunited with poor Meric who was beginning to have a headache from all the asteroid bonking. With one last look at the forlorn portal, Zhask began exploring the ruins of Kastiya.

Of course, there was nothing left save the rubble and rot. It piqued the curiosity of the little spawn but all it did was rouse feelings of guilt and solitude in the monarch's gut. He flitted through the wreckages, determined to find something... or someone... but nothing, and nobody remained.

It was then that he came to an old royal greenhouse his mother once frequented, or what remained of it. She had always loved her flowers and had taught him botany in those very walls. There were many fond memories within the confines of those solid glass panes and many more outside.

Now all that was left was a fraction of what it once was.

Zhask stepped on a piece of glass and recentered his gravity. It broke beneath his feet and he landed inside the chlorophyll-stained room.

It was silent, far too silent. There used to be at the very least a little flutter of wings or perhaps a chittering spawn, but there was nothing here now. Oh well, exploring would be a fine option.

Surely nothing worse could be found... right?

Through glass and thorn Zhask trudged though the greenhouse, searching for relics of a forgotten day and age. He found nothing but rubble. It disappointed him.

He was about to leave when a pile of wood and glass caught his eye. Placing Meric on his shoulder, he dug through the wreckage, curiosity begging him to reach in further....

But as they all say, curiosity killed the cat, and today, it struck the king.

Zhask shifted the rubble to a full extent, but he wished he didn't. For underneath it all was a familiar face, with familiar fur and familiar scales.

"... Sh... Shaloshta...."

("... Mo... Mother....")

There was no mistaking the broken royal tiara and the long, cold, and dead moth eyes.

"Shaloshta... Shaloshta! SHALOSHTA!"

("Mother... Mother! MOTHER!")

He grasped the corpse by her shoulders, and laid her in his lap.

"Shaloshta! Cere di, ralsa mi Zhask!" he cried out in agony. "Cere di Shaloshta, cere di, pavra mi hask! Dis tu khauf bhait! Arka, Shaloshta, arka!"

("Mother! It's me, your son Zhask!")

("It's me Mother, it's me, your little grub! I have come home! Wake up, Mother, wake up!")

But as was Yve in her pursuits, he was too late. She had died far too long ago.

Holding back the tears studded in his eyes, Zhask pulled poor Meric from his shoulders and leaped out of the ill-fated greenhouse. He smashed through rock and tile, through foundations and memories. He didn't care whatever happened to him or his surroundings, he just wanted to get away.

At last, a good distance away, his energy faltered. His spark faded. Fortunately, a chunk of space rock, once bearing a tree fruiting with juice but now a withered stump deviod of all life, came into perspective.

Broken, Zhask sat down on a patch of grassland on the rock and pulled Meric closer to his heart.

He could take it no longer. His heart was to burst.

And as he stroked the little spawn in his hands, he thanked himself for keeping the portal open.

Because there would be no better birthday gift for him... than to finally die as he will live forever onwards.