Young Cian glowered at the wilting rose that he tried to bring back to life. His mentor walked over and saw the progress. The crackle of the fire in the fireplace popped in mocking amusement. With a swipe of his clawed hand it sat back up. Petals stretching open in unnatural ways.

"You have to remember that you are overcoming the natural order." His mentor's voice was emotionless to most ears but he could hear the teaching tone of it.

"But why do we do that?" Cian complaints sounded pendulant to his own ears, "And why is my magic so much more.... weirder?"

His mentor paused before he walked closer and stood next to the pouting childling. Blue eyes stared at the rose he twisted with his magic.

"A beautiful thing which we Eldritch Beings do not comprehend." He started. "Nature. 'How things are suppose to be'. I was once in your position which I didn't understand it. The difference between myself and others. But then... I met her. The Beast which only comes to protect and pick sages. And then I understood." He cupped the twisted petals "I was different because I am her other half. The thing that corrupts, taints. Give people what they desire but not what they need. A Tyrant maker. She is the Sage appointer. One how guides those to what they need. Even when they don't desire it. Two halves of the same coin."

Cian watched his mentor as he thumbed the velvet petal, lost in his own thoughts and memories.

"I once wondered if I could experience love. And now I think I can. It's a different kind which mortals speak about but I cannot think of a day which she could not be in my life. I may die but she shall live on." He released the rose, the rose kept growing and twisting into something unrecognizable, vines and roots intertwined and mangled with each other, the petals becoming jagged and warped.

Cian glared at the rose. Why couldn't he do something like that?

"In some ways you're closer to her than I ever was." He started, which forced Cian to pull away from the twisting overgrowth. "Maybe you have a better chance than I would when you become king. Still opposite due to your father, but yet similar. You're different than even I because your father took my lingering magic and used it to create you with his own. That's what makes you different." He looked over to Cian, "It's also why you have similarities to myself. But you have more of your father than my magic, so unfortunately I cannot call you my own spawn."

Spawn, it's how the Eldritch beings called their children. It was more of an endearing way for them than how most handled it.

"But what if I want to be your spawn?" Young Cian asked. "You took me in when my own father left me to die."

He remembered the winter day which he was left in the snow. He didn't know why he was left back then. The pang of abandonment festered and grew into a need to be seen as he aged.

He couldn't let anyone know this weakness of his. His moldering gash. Only the King new of this, and they did not speak on it as Cian didn't wish to touch the rot it left.

He was only 16 now, though he hadn't aged very quickly from when he was first created. Already looking a rather tall 10 year old in the snow.

Cian pushed the thoughts out as he returned to his caretaker.

The smile was saddened. "Honestly I wish to call you my spawn. My childling. I wish you belonged to myself and the sage finder. A union of a love she doesn't know of. But it must not be. For you will probably be scorched with this same love I feel when you ascend to the throne. You will not know what that feeling is at first but you will come to understand it. I will say though that I think I will happily call you my colt or eyas. Maybe Fledgling may work as well."

.o0o.

Slowly he woke up to the sound of chirping birds outside his room. The scent of his silk shirt against his nose, the folds embedding into his cheek.

Memories haunted his dreams. Memories of a time he was actually happy learning into his powers. He sat up and rubbed out the indentions from sleeping at his desk. A reminder of the crick in his neck and stretch pains running up his back.

A peaceful morning. The sun warming his room from the cold, brutal winter. He slowly stood from the plush seat and grabbed his silk housecoat to wrap himself in. It didn't have any meetings with the public so he could get away with not looking his best. He wrapped the furlined coat tighter around as he passed the large painting of his old mentor. Looking regal as a lion but also as bold as an red feathered harpy eagle.

Well more Auburn but he hated his acid red streak in his white plumage. He wished he had inherited the reddish brown or pink streak. That way he looked less like the damn water horse that was among the winter court.

It had been 20 years since the death of his mentor. The pang of that he had to push to the side as he couldn't let any of the other griffins see weakness. They knew he was going to die, but why did it have to be while he was away on business? He was only Overlord of the West for about 13 years before he had to replace him as king.

His long strides echoed along the empty halls as he came to the room which he was told a new painting was being placed. He pulled out his glasses from his pocket when he arrived, At least he remembered this time.

"Alright where was this one found?" Cian's bored tone mimicked his mentor's on official business.

His butler bowed and gestured to the covered painting as he did so, "From the Overlord of the South's collection. Confiscated after we found his corpse within the Deep Wood. Looked to be torn apart by a Deep Wood Leshy."

Cian scrunched his nose at that description. He could feel the brim of his glasses moving down a little with the motion, "I know you were only doing your job but I really didn't want to hear that in the morning."

"And hence why I simply stopped at that." The Butler nodded.

"Good. Still need to keep down my food." He walked up to the light cloth that covered the painting. "Anything I need to know before I pulled the cover off?"

"Only that it seems to depict the Keeper of one of the Desnmens. The woman looks... peculiar and apparently he had planned to marry her to curry your favor."

"Mmm..." Was all Cian said as he took ahold of the cloth. He could feel the threads of the light cloth tangling on the burrs of his claws. He needed to file them to be less jagged. He pulled down and let the cloth pull away as if oil being pulled off of water.

His breath caught. Peridot green widening as he stared upon the woman in the painting.

The style was art Nuevo. The dress draped and cascaded into waves of a waterfall, the pearls upon the sleeves shimmered in the sunlight as it caught every beam. The alabaster skin far less human and more otherworldly. Flowers mingled along the light blue hair.

It was the golden eyes however. The eyes that had him staring for endless days.

Recognized those eyes.

So this is what his mentor meant by his "other half"? His heart pounded in his ears. What was this feeling? His clawed hand clutching at his chest, feeling as if his chest was about to burst. He felt this once before before the Kirin disappeared 20 years ago.

Not long after his mentor passed away by the Kirin's horn and holy flame.

Was this what "love" was suppose to feel like? He wasn't sure. All he knew that his breath quickened as he finally released it. He could have called it lust but this felt more than that. It was nothing like what the other Griffins described.

He wanted to hold her. To keep her. To have her beside him forever.

She was to be his. She was to be his rose to corrupt and twist.