Chapter Text
And so Kludd was cast into the flames from amongst the tallest of the trees. The snapping of his wing was soon complimented by the cracking of the branch. Licking flames below welcomed their flying foe to join them and become ashes, to be burnt and spread after delivering great agony. After all his struggles and suffering, carefully cultivating a name for himself, and achieving a purpose, it had finally come to an end. Death would be his escape from madness, his attempt to oust his brother and prove he was better. He had failed Nyra, Metal Beak, his father, and finally, himself. He was to die most ironically, in a way opposite to what he had wanted for his brother.
As he fell into a blazing inferno, he saw his brother leave him for dead. An anguished cry escaped his dehydrated beak. That coward of a brother wouldn’t come back to save him. He’d rather fly off to kill and take the glory for himself. Kludd prepared himself to meet Glaux. Accordingly, his perception of time fell similar to the state of a slowly drying nest. The fires licking his wings caused them to light up. From his wingtips and tail feathers, the heated gas began to claim the owl as part of their domain. There was no escape now.
A sizzling section of the branch he had just been on swept past his face. The butt of it thrashed into his beak, while the leaves smothered the right side of his face. He writhed in pure pain. Yet he could not stop it, for one wing was broken, and the other was aflame. By a cruel miracle, the plant material only fell around his right eye, as if to let him watch himself die. Even so, they sunk through his feathers and began to sear his flesh raw. Flames quickly spread across his entire wing to create a phoenix that would never rise and remain in an earthen state. The tree he had stood upon burnt under the pressure, and he gazed as it began to fall where he would land. A burial for him, it felt.
This was his reward for all he had done. It must be Glaux’s will. He had been foolish enough to think the Pure Ones were right for him. He had served them needlessly if this was his end. Driving his parents away, burning his home kingdom, and moonblinking his sister. What had he done wrong? Where had he made his mistake? As one would expect of an owl on death’s verge, his short life flashed before his eyes. Falling with his brother was an accident and led him to greatness and to those who looked up to him. And here he was, falling once more, except to nothing. All he had done had been for nothing. As he tumbled through the air currents, these were his last thoughts. Or so he believed.
Owl length by owl length, the swirling hagsmire below upon him ascended in his vision, to welcome him to the true hagsmire beyond. There was no use in screeching or shaking or stirring. The dancing mass of red and orange and yellow, splitting and conjoining, twirling through the colors of the sky and sun, burnt themselves into his mind as the last sight Kludd would ever see. Closer and closer and closer came his inevitable demise. Wisps of green merged with blackened wood at his sight’s fringes until only the flames filled his vision. Smoke poisoned his lungs. No fresh was to be inhaled. Kludd closed his eyes and prepared. Cursing himself and his brother one last time.
And then, Kludd felt himself uplifted. The melting inferno burst away, and cooler winds swept in. The embers pillaging his right face were pilfered by the sudden speed, though it did not lessen the pain. He felt his rescuer toss him about in the air to dampen the flames singing his entire body. Splashes of water were applied from a container dropped after its use. Slaps from cooled leaves served to pat out the sparks. He could now feel that a chunk of his beak’s top right had been smashed off. The exposed flesh around his eye, extended down to his broken beak. It should have hurt even more, but the chemicals rushing through him prevented him from quite feeling it.
As fresher air emerged, causing him to cough to life, the fog in his brain began to clear. Between bouts of hacking and fluttering tears, Kludd caught glimpses of his rescuer. To his shock, it was not a barn owl of any kind nor a Pure One slave. A stocky, sludge-colored fish owl smiled back with concerned amber eyes. Their pointy ears twitched. Kludd closed his eyes in disgust. To be saved by none other than a Pure One made this a travesty, even if Glaux had willed it. Although, he did wonder, briefly, if it was so bad for his rescuer to not be a strong, mighty Tyto. Somehow, his brother’s friends, of different species, started to win against them.
Away from the burning forest and raging canyonlands, his rescuer began a long flight to what Kludd assumed to be a safer kingdom. The Shadow Forest was closest. Dark, secluded, rarely fought over, sparsely populated. It was perfect. Kludd weakly laughed out loud, not caring if it was odd to the fish owl. He’d have crawled his way there himself if he’d survived somehow. Kludd did wonder if the fellow genius was crafty or doing this on the fly, literally. Either way, it was reassuring to know his rescuer had some sense of creativity. Applauding a lower species for credible work they shouldn’t be capable of conflicted with what he knew.
Kludd had only one question for his rescuer. He’d affirm his silence otherwise unless prodded.
“What’s your name? Mine is Kludd.”
Not revealing he was a Pure One would also be a smart move, in case the rescuer had minor suspicions.
“Simon.”
That was it.
At some point, Kludd’s battle claws felt heavy, and his eyelids drooped. He fought to maintain consciousness.
What had he done for Glaux to commend his soul to be saved by another species? Why had this fish owl saved him? What made his life worthy of being saved by one who hated him? As the pain raged on, a strange comfort arose in him. Why did it feel soothing to know another saved his life?
Kludd could find no way to be angry nor find a reason to unleash his wrath. This owl had done nothing wrong. Nothing existed right beyond him and this owl. As he pondered this all, he grew weary. Sleep slipped in; he faded into the darkness.
—
Soren hurried away from the scene of his fallen brother. He had left his friends to bravely fend together, alongside the Guardians, against the onslaught of helmeted soldiers and bloodthirsty bats, to try and save his brother. For as valiant as he may be, and despite what he had learned in his time at the tree, he could not console the darkness within his brother or even save him when his brother needed him most. Now he was dead, consumed by the flames roaring around him. He felt a new fire erupt in his heart. Soren scowled his face and yowled in fury. Turning his gaze, he noticed Metal Beak swooping inside a large cavern from afar. Metal Beak deserved to die for what he had done.
Violently invigorated, the barn owl burst above the burning branches. Though, before doing so, he snapped an ember-infested stick to take with him. It would serve to account for his limited combat experience. Enchanted with righteous rage, he flapped furiously from the heat of nature back into the heat of battle. Briefly, he noticed the tide was turning in the Guardian's favor, but the fight was not fought yet. The hardest fight to win is one that is already won. He razored a few bats as he flew over and to the side. Each kill fueled his fire to destroy Metal Beak. The menace had taken his brother's life and many others. It was his duty to stop him.
After half a minute between speed, stealth, and slashing, Soren reached the crescendo of his flight and peered into the gargantuan space, moonlight below through the entrance. However, to his horror, he was too late. Soren froze, almost letting loose a blood-curdling screech. He heard a pained, familiar-sounding voice echo out. He watched down as Metal Beak ripped his sharpened battle claws deep into the chest of the elderly Ezylryb. Shredded chunks of flesh soared, while flings of blood sprayed across the rocky ground. With one last defiant look, the ancient warrior gave his last look as his equally ancient enemy exacted his long-awaited vengeance. Bearing a cruel smile, the metal-masked menace smeared his red-stained battle claws across the cadaver.
Soren struggled to believe what he had just witnessed. He had failed again. Why did this keep happening? First, it was to stay with his parents, later to find them. He had been unable to find his sister on the way to Ga’Hoole. Minutes ago, his brother, And now, his mentor. What had he done to lose so many he loved? Was his new life and friends the cost required? He shook his head, fury lit exponentially. He could deal with his grief when the battle was done. This was his chance to kill Metal Beak and win the war that had claimed him and so many others. These two hags had no indication he saw them murder a hero. The element of surprise was his as they gloated in their wicked laughter.
Without a cry, as to mask his deception just a bit longer, Soren dove toward Metal Beak, fiery wood in talon. Every moment of every second mattered. One wrong move and he was dead; the tyrant would live to see another day. There was no time for backup, as then it’d be too late for them to find him. It was now or never. With blinding speed, the young barn owl thundered to the spot where his mentor now lay in cold blood. Blood pumped; wings spread; eyes honed in focus; talons rightfully wiggled; every muscle stretched; all of his training had prepared him to fight as a Guardian of Ga’Hoole. This was his moment.
Soren had always been the best silent flier he knew. As a barn owl, he was specially built for it. Whispering embers from the stick and clanking battle claws shortened the length of his attack's sneakiness. Even so, since he was fast enough, those factors were largely negated. It proved to work. Additionally, their back was to him. Soren’s silent swoop successfully surprised and swayed the swooning, sinister sinners into surprise shock. Merely a few owl lengths away, Soren pointed his improvised weapon at Metal Beak’s chest. His heart in aim, to be staked, would be pierced and end this war early. As the leader turned to defend himself, Soren pushed himself to pump faster. It mattered not if he tore a muscle or two.
Then, without warning, the white female named Nyra turned in the wrong direction to defend herself. Between Metal Beak’s widened eyes and Soren’s folly to redirect his attack, the hot timber rammed itself through her chest. Soren was flipped over and landed with breath-stealing force. Nyra turned her head to Metal Beak. Her breath produced only stuttered gaps. Her eyes pulsated in disbelief. The tongue flickered in an attempt to say any last words. She fell onto her stomach, pushing the stick through the rest of her chest and exiting with a bloody squirt. Her blood poured out and conjoined with Ezlryb’s. It formed a crimson pool shared by the two now dead foes.
Soren scrambled to fly away, but Metal Beak was too quick for him.
“Pure Ones!” he called out as he pinned the murderer of his mate, his voice deep and ripe with grief and anger. “Our queen is dead, the battle is lost! Fall back and follow me! Kill all who stand in our way!”
Before he could react, Metal Beak whipped his battle claws onto Soren’s left side and brutally shredded it with all his might. He began at the very edge of the disc. Soren’s body violently shook, attempting to overpower the monster, to stop the pain, but there was no possibility. The tension of Metal Beak’s weight and his chosen grips restrained his prisoner and left him no freedom. Bit by bit, even though his army retreated, Metal Beak slowly dragged the tipped metal down the heart. Soren trembled in agony, writhed in pain, and quivered uncontrollably in the torment. As the nemesis did so, a small regiment recovered their queen’s body and her fallen foe and his battle claws.
Metal Beak reached Soren’s left eye after raking a three-pronged trail of exposed flesh above. Soren, beneath his screams, could tell he had done this before and was being quite methodical at it. Battle claws dipped into his sclera, then deeper, then deeper, but not too deep as to kill. Then, they followed a planned trajectory into the iris, across the pupil, and across the sclera. Bit by bit, Soren’s left field of vision tearfully faded until it became a void of darkness. Finally, Metal Beak continued the savagery until he clawed down to above the throat. He then battered Soren’s head into the rock a few times, nearly killing him each, holding a choke throughout.
Metal Beak released Soren to breathe just in time. He shoved his face into what remained of Soren’s sight.
“We are not done, young Tyto!”
His growl resonated with pure evil that shuddered Soren to his gizzard.
“Your suffering will last a very long time…”
As Soren faded, he coughed up blood. He felt Metal Beak grapple his feet with carelessness. In a matter of minutes, they left the canyonlands. Along the way, he was subjugated to being slammed into the rocks walls, left to dangle with his life off the line. Soren, through the hardship, could only cry in his failure to uphold the ideals of the guardians. He had failed to protect the innocent and shield them from Metal Beak’s wrath. Instead, he had killed their crazed queen. Such a travesty would not go unpunished, nor would there be no retaliation. He had failed to upkeep his promise to keep his family safe and to return safely to his friends. Ezylryb was dead and Eglantine was an orphan.
Soren struggled to hold on and stay awake. Yet it was in vain, as the owl’s veins leeched him of his strength. It took all he had for his wound to dry and patch. He was going to die, one day at a time, until Metal Beak got bored with him. The Guardians would be unable to find him even if they tried. He was as good as dead already. The blackness of sleep was now welcoming. Soren suspected little of it was to come. And so, he drifted into slumber as Metal Beak carried him away.
