Mother and Father of three

“Fate spared me and your mother, its brought you back to us. ” Masaru rested one hand on Judals arm, the other on the side of the young Magi’s face.

Where

was

their

hatred?

That burning emotion inside his chest, the cold acid running down his veins as he stared at his own hands now, wide-eyed. He couldn’t feel the warmth trying to comfort him.

He finally looked up, eyes glistening with hot, hateful tears.

“I can’t”. The phrase could not be finished as the black rukh surrounded him like a radiance. To an extent, it was overwhelming, even for him. It fed from his own emotion, and it intoxicated him in return, the worst of the poisons, mankind’s depravity. Just like in Balbadd that day, not too long ago, a day a part of him wished to forget, while another clung to it as its renewed strength.

He jerked away from his father, clutching his head, visibly in pain as he struggled against himself.

It tore at his heart to see those tears.

“Why do you refuse power. Why do you reject me”. His pale knuckles had the color of the moon, the sensation was similar to standing in an empty shore as the sea withdrew before a tidal wave.

“You can’t go home and forgive”, he looked up at the man again, red eyes almost burning, pupils contracted with evident madness.

“But yeah, look at you. I see it now.” The smile returned, the volatile emotion again. Judar had changed his mind, or perhaps already forgotten the ugly feeling before.

“You can barely hold your hatred, stop trying, accept it, accept me.” He reached out to the man.

"Fate spared me and your mother, its brought you back to us. " Masaru rested one hand on Judals arm, the other on the side of the young Magi's face.

Judar stared ahead, eyes open and wide, but he saw nothing. Nor the fluttering rukh, nor the icy moonlight.

The feeling Masaru, as if the young man would soon disappear, was probably an omen. Or perhaps it was the calm falling on them, a curtain of silence where he could only hear his own heart pounding inside his head.

“I’m no one’s light”, the voice sounded low, chilling, and devoid of emotion. As Masaru brushed his hair away, his eyes wide and maddened were exposed, a jarring image to the one his father probably had.

“Let me show you, father” head hanging back as he stared at the moon, his smile white like the crescent above their heads.

“How I burn this place to ash. Oh, I’m furious. I’ll destroy it all” The black rukh were agitated, fluttering around them, pouring from the fallen magi, his dark radiance, toxic and free.

“I’ll just kill everyone, how about if you become king? Yeah, father, take my hand, let’s have your vengeance! Our vengeance!”

There was no fear, but a soft sadness on the older man's face. A stark contrast to the crazed smile of his child.

"I don't need to be king" He replied with a small shake of his head. "I dont need vengeance, or bloodshed. If vengeance on them is what you need for peace, thats alright." Masaru kept his voice soft.

"Im proud youve survived, I'll always be proud. If you had no magic at all I'd still be proud. " While he couldnt see the rukh, there was a heavy uneasiness in the air that he could feel. Though he didnt let it dissuade him from trying to coax Judal.

"My wish is to go home, with you and your mother. Thats the only thing I wish"

What had they done to his son?

There was no fear, but a soft sadness on the older man's face. A stark contrast to the crazed smile of his child.

"I don't need to be king" He replied with a small shake of his head. "I dont need vengeance, or bloodshed. If vengeance on them is what you need for peace, thats alright." Masaru kept his voice soft.

"Im proud youve survived, I'll always be proud. If you had no magic at all I'd still be proud. " While he couldnt see the rukh, there was a heavy uneasiness in the air that he could feel. Though he didnt let it dissuade him from trying to coax Judal.

"My wish is to go home, with you and your mother. Thats the only thing I wish"

What had they done to his son?

It didnt take too long to lull Hanami to sleep; the baby blanket like a soothing item for her. Masaru however wasnt so lucky.

He didnt grieve openly, loudly like his wife. She needed comfort and stability from him in the day despite her best efforts to comfort him in turn. He grieved quietly.

What he saw, though the window? It made his stomach turn and his heart start racing all in one. Getting to his feet, not a thought in his head, he went out to the street to try and see….what it is he really was seeing.

That was Hanami’s lullaby. Her families lullaby. The rest of the people who knew it died with their babies….so why was he hearing it outside his window?

He didnt believe in ghosts.

Maybe he should start.

The figure would stare back at the quiet inn. Judar didn’t need to know where they were to follow where the rukh guided him. Invisible to all but to the strongest magicians, the tiny specks of destiny, winged and fluttering at the crossroads of fate.

Those two were anomalies, and fortunate enough for Al Thamen to disregard them. The arrogance of those who could easily bend reality had accidentally protected the grieving parents. They were never part of any plan or scheme, Judar’s parents were mere dust to be dispersed and forgotten. And the dark magi had sensed it. The faces, now aged compared to the faded memory forcefully revealed to him.

The wind carried the lullaby. If it was the woman singing in her sleep, or her rukh carrying her words, he couldn’t tell. Or perhaps he was simply imagining it all. again.

Judar saw the man step outside, warily, committing a foolish act of courage, curiosity, and love.

He started slightly at the others words....blinking.

It was Judal. The magi. But....why was he back here? Sure he had heard that the priest enjoyed causing chaos in the city but the young man looked so somber. Nothing like what had been described to him.

"Im....not sure what you could have seen but we're very much alive." He spoke carefully. Wary of somehow provoking the magician.

He was right before. He did have Hanamis eyes.

"Hanami and I were left unconscious in a raid on our village...veiled magicians killed our daughter and first born son, as well as everyone else. They stole our newborn son. I dont know why we survived but we did." He turned to properly face the other, considering for a moment resting his hand on Judals shoulder...but then seemed to think better of it.

It was a lot to learn…he supposed they were lucky to have such a mild encounter with such a powerful magician. Masaru feared magicians….the beings who tore his family apart. He was glad all he heard from merchants were childish pranks…nothing truly harmful.

Masaru had started picking up odd jobs around the market to earn money, Hanami was…still in a state. No state to travel. Honestly neither of them knew where to go, back home? There was nothing for them there but bad memories.

The mother was grieving, something she had kept at bay for almost twenty years. Depressed and grieving—-Masaru couldnt blame her. He tried to be there, but he didnt know how to help. He felt the loss too but he grieved quietly, by working, by not thinking about their loss.

Hanami was surrounded in her grief.

The rukh found her first, it wasnt hard. She hardly noticed the uneasiness in the air as it always felt like the aftermath of a nightmare when she was awake.

The only thing that seemed to sooth her was her children’s lullaby. Holding Haru’s blanket close to her chest.

“~Sleep little one, close your eyes. Your body’s cooling, with the night. Let your worr-ies slip away. Tomorrow is, a brand new day. Shimmering moon and satin sky, soft wind breathes its lullaby. Yours dreams are here to set you free. The dawn will bring you back to me, the dawn will bring you….back to me.~”

Her voice was soft, and shaky, but still as beautiful as it was when she was a young woman.

Masaru felt the rukhs presence throughout his day, couldnt shake the uneasy feeling…though he thought it was just his grief getting to him.

He returned to Hanami, and she was singing again. He sighed and sat with her, hugging her close. “The lullaby wont bring them back my love….”

“I know….” She sniffled. “It just….it almost makes me forget. Only for a second.”

He nodded and just held her. Trying to ignore the unsettling feeling in his gut. “Whatever you need, dearest.” He reassured her feebly, unsure what else he could do.

“Are you alright, love?” She looked up at him tiredly. “How many jobs did you get at the market?”

“Oh it’s not the work…just an unsettling feeling all day. I’m sure its nothing.” He shook his head, rubbing her back.

“If your sure…” She held the baby blanket with one arm, hugging her husband with the other. Her gaze focused on the window, watching the spot where they’d met the magi days before.

He couldn’t see, but he could hear it.

The sweet voice laced in the black wings of the rukh. Words woven into a lullaby, familiar, forgotten, etched in the darkest recesses of his soul. The pale hand remained out as eyes were wide, open, and unseeing. 

The dawn will bring you back to me. the dawn.

But there was no dawn, right? Twilight, under the dark sun’s radiance. Judar had willingly stepped away from the light, rejecting it as he embraced the deceitful freedom of his depravity. 

The song went silent, causing the magi to slice through the concentration of fluttering shapes with his fist. The gust of wind whipped the long braid against him as fists clutched tightly. Slowly, inevitably, the truth peered at him though the cracks in the perfectly manufactured happiness. Like a corpse hidden behind the wall, he knew it was there even if he had covered it up. 

Al Thamen gave him everything he wanted, and he had accepted it. Unwillingly, deceived, happy, -but now it was his choice to ignore, to forget, to lie. Something in him had cracked that day in Balbadd, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. The hateful emotion spreading like a virulent disease, the black rukh were thriving.

His body plummeted in the bed as if the silk and sheets were a black lake, inky darkness mixing with his hair and the night, to the point where it was impossible to distinguish between the tips of his fingers and the beginning of the dream. Heavy, sticky, restless with fever, the song called to him.

The crescent moon bathed the sleeping streets of the imperial capital. Despite the recent incidents, the guard had not exactly being doubled. The priests had dismissed the relevance of the supposed attack as it usually happened when Judar’s antics got out of control. 

But as Masaru watched through the window in that cold Autumn night, a lonely figure would stand there, like a ghost with a shadowed face, arms motionless at the sides of his body, faint wisps of his face visible as the clouds shifted in the starless sky. The black rukh fluttering around him like agitated moths, invisible to the average eye but perceptible to the natural senses of all living creatures. 

“ The dawn will bring you back to me”

He didnt grieve openly, loudly like his wife. She needed comfort and stability from him in the day despite her best efforts to comfort him in turn. He grieved quietly.

What he saw, though the window? It made his stomach turn and his heart start racing all in one. Getting to his feet, not a thought in his head, he went out to the street to try and see....what it is he really was seeing.

That was Hanami's lullaby. Her families lullaby. The rest of the people who knew it died with their babies....so why was he hearing it outside his window?

He didnt believe in ghosts.

Masaru just held Hanami close to his side. If that young man wasn’t their son…if their Haru really was lost to them—he had no reason to look back or pay his cries any mind. After all….he still had to look after his wife. She was still with him, and right now she needed him. 

He was thankful their inn wasnt far. Within eyesight of the street.

Hana cried herself to sleep eventually, clutching Haru’s blanket to her chest, but he wasn’t tired.

Masaru had gone to the window to check if Judar was alright after his wife was asleep, as part of him did feel pity or maybe sympathy for the young man they’d met, as he hadn’t seemed well. Even if the meeting had turned more than sour, he was still a father at heart. He couldn’t help but care a little.

What he saw, however, made his blood run cold. He saw a veiled priest talking to the magi and immediately ducked out of sight, hands over his mouth. He recognized the veil–it was the same ones that the magicians who tried to kill them wore. He didn’t want to make a sound—didn’t want to move. It felt like an eternity before he even dared to peek out of the window again—and both of them were gone.

But he didn’t end up sleeping at all. 

He got up with the sun to go to the markets, get them some food, despite how tired he was. It didn’t take long being there though, for him to start hearing rumor of the Imperial Priest having been found injured? Screaming? In the street the night before. 

Some had different versions of what had happened, such was the way the rumor mill spun he supposed. 

He didn’t pay much mind to the chatter until he heard more about the said said priest, and realized it was the same individual him and his wife had been talking to the previous night.

He was that important? Goodness…. he couldnt help an involuntary shiver. They’d done nothing to him of course! But….he sounded like he was worse for wear after their conversation…and he couldnt fathom why.

He was wandering a bit as he shopped, finding no reason to rush. Though maybe this was also him just processing the night before.

It sickened him. 

From the outside, it looked like a sudden fever, a bad side-effect caused by the rukh, perhaps. Strict orders not to enter his bedchambers. Judar didn’t offer a sincere explanation beyond ‘the rukh was unsettled, something happened’. The priests had investigated the supposed disturbance thoroughly. Something inexplicable had defied the course of fate but they were unable to pinpoint what. As the magi could hear the rukh and commune with it, Judar’s story wasn’t completely false, and he was splendid liar, with a body which had gone through depravity. 

The official version had denied the High Priest’s presence in the streets, and everything around it easily turned into rumours and whispers in the nooks and crannies of Rakushou. It was easy for the gentle Masaru to exchange words with the shopkeepers. The citizens of Kou were proud of their Princes and Princesses, and the power the Oracle had brought to them. The Empire flourished with wealth, and that was evident in the clean streets adorned with glorious jade statues and lacquered crimson rooftops. 

They were not shy to refer to the day the veiled priesthood swore themselves to the widow empress. As much as they mourned the terrible accident and the great fire which claimed the lives of almost every member of the Ren Dynasty, they were grateful to the new emperor and his beautiful wife. The young Oracle had been part of the priesthood, and since their arrival, more than thirteen years ago, the empire had been forever changed. ‘The praised magi’, the guide of kings and emperors, a boy with no family more than the priesthood who venerated him. He was as adored as he was feared for his chaotic nature and his nasty pranks. No one was safe to one day become the target of a peach assault from the skies, between other things. 

Meanwhile, Judar spent the next few days locked in his chambers, hidden between the silken sheets of his gilded cage, between fever dreams and waking nightmares. It hurt, worse than any curse or injury. The black rukh surrounded him, the priests were fascinated by the sheer darkness of the magi’s misery, it empowered them. Whatever had happened to him, had been delightfully beneficial. 

Until the third night when he stood bare footed on the windowsill, staring at the darkened garden below. An arm rose, encased in the heavy golden bracelet, palm up, gathering a torrent of fluttering black shapes. 

“Find them,” his voice ordered, like a feeble whisper. 

Masaru had started picking up odd jobs around the market to earn money, Hanami was...still in a state. No state to travel. Honestly neither of them knew where to go, back home? There was nothing for them there but bad memories.

The mother was grieving, something she had kept at bay for almost twenty years. Depressed and grieving----Masaru couldnt blame her. He tried to be there, but he didnt know how to help. He felt the loss too but he grieved quietly, by working, by not thinking about their loss.

Hanami was surrounded in her grief.

The rukh found her first, it wasnt hard. She hardly noticed the uneasiness in the air as it always felt like the aftermath of a nightmare when she was awake.

The only thing that seemed to sooth her was her children's lullaby. Holding Haru's blanket close to her chest.

"~Sleep little one, close your eyes. Your body's cooling, with the night. Let your worr-ies slip away. Tomorrow is, a brand new day. Shimmering moon and satin sky, soft wind breathes its lullaby. Yours dreams are here to set you free. The dawn will bring you back to me, the dawn will bring you....back to me.~"

Her voice was soft, and shaky, but still as beautiful as it was when she was a young woman.

Masaru felt the rukhs presence throughout his day, couldnt shake the uneasy feeling...though he thought it was just his grief getting to him.

He returned to Hanami, and she was singing again. He sighed and sat with her, hugging her close. "The lullaby wont bring them back my love...."

"I know...." She sniffled. "It just....it almost makes me forget. Only for a second."

He nodded and just held her. Trying to ignore the unsettling feeling in his gut. "Whatever you need, dearest." He reassured her feebly, unsure what else he could do.

"Are you alright, love?" She looked up at him tiredly. "How many jobs did you get at the market?"

"Oh it's not the work...just an unsettling feeling all day. I'm sure its nothing." He shook his head, rubbing her back.

仙台市泉区 2017.9.25 [x]

別のところで描いてたマギのジュダル君（大体１年前の絵）