//------------------------------//
// III: Life Once Before 
// Story: Shroudbearer 
// by Razorbeam 
//------------------------------//

	The little changeling was poised like a cat, inching as silently as he could along the sandstone floor towards an unsuspecting scorpion that was sunning itself in the thin strip of morning light that was coming over the rim of the canyon walls high above. The changeling, too, wanted to go and sit in the sun to chase the chill of the long night away, but catching his breakfast came first. After all, the gnawing hunger had been present long before the cold.

It was a smallish scorpion, and certainly not what anyone would call a trophy. For him, though, it was the perfect size: just enough to eat, with a stinger that was probably too short to punch through his hide. Probably, but such were the risks he ran if he wanted to eat.

The scorpion, still lethargic from the long, freezing desert night, was the perfect target.

The child lunged suddenly, his outer lenses flicking into place to protect his eyes as he opened his mouth wide, tiny fangs as sharp as needles at the ready. It was over in mere seconds as he caught the scorpion in his mouth and crunched down, sliding along the ground to stop his momentum. The scorpion, still not quite dead, did its best to defend itself. The incessant clicking of its tail against the young changeling’s hide was punctuated suddenly by another loud crunch as the hunter bit down again.

The taste of the… whatever it was on the inside of scorpions was bitter through the newly-made holes in its shell, but it was sweetened slightly with the subtle flavor of victory.

The young changeling picked himself back up, the scorpion in his mouth flopping weirdly with his motions, legs and tail swinging at odd angles as it dangled limply. Every step its killer took set its limbs to bouncing almost comically, though there was no one about to find it so.

The child looked around as he walked, a destination clearly in mind but not at the forefront of it. Judging by the sunlight visible in this portion of the canyon, morning would be over soon. Even though he was hardly more than seven years old he had to be aware of time. The complete intricacies of the concept of it were lost on him, the adult notion beyond his simple, uneducated mind. Still, he knew enough to know he needed to hurry, if by nothing more than experience alone.

It would be all the harder to get where he was going once ‘They’ were awake.

‘They’ were odd changelings, compared to all the others he had ever known. They wore strange things, made strange sounds, and went strange places. Some wore red strips of cloth, and others wore metal and crystal shells and carried big sticks. Whatever ‘They’ were, they usually caused him no end of trouble if they happened to see him and were near enough to do anything about it.

They did not like him, he knew.  They did not like anyone like him, for all of the other changelings he had ever known were treated exactly the same.

He trotted a little faster, subconsciously eager to dodge the guards. Too many times he had been chased, or had stones thrown at him with the force of some strange, green energy, hard enough to crack his still-growing hide and leave bruises and gashes. After his success that morning in hunting, a rare thing indeed at his age, he simply wanted to enjoy the morning meal in peace.

The edge of the city came into sight soon enough, the guards already out at their posts. The guards were always out, but these soldiers were different from the ones that had been there when he had left earlier in the morning. When he left, the old guards had already been there all night, and were tired. When he came back, the new guards had only been awake for a couple of hours, and were tired. Though he didn’t understand the mechanics of a shift-change, he certainly understood how to exploit one.

He was careful to keep away from the main streets, and though he could feel the eyes of the guards on him, he knew that he was too far away for them to bother with him. If they tried to chase him this early in the morning even his short legs could get him to the alleyways before they reached him, and then they’d have no hope of catching him.

He watched them cautiously all the same, meeting the eyes of several of them. Two of the ones who wore metal shells simply watched him idly, as if they were only looking at him because he was in motion, and less boring than the empty sandstone canyon. The red-sash-wearing one, though, looked at him with disdain, his nose turned up and his eyes narrowed with distaste.

“Houseless,” he muttered, spitting in the young changeling’s direction, but doing nothing more than that.

The young changeling didn’t react, for that sort of treatment was pretty tame considering everything else he had experienced in his short life at the hooves of red-sash-wearing changelings. He didn’t understand the word ‘houseless’, nor any words, really. To him it was just a sound, a noise that the changelings who wore the armor or the sashes, or lived in the buildings, all seemed to say a lot when they saw him.

As far as he knew, it was his name.

Houseless finally tore his attention away from the guards, passing between two buildings very close to the canyon walls. On the edge of the great city the canyon was fairly narrow, the west and east walls pressing the buildings in. However, the further one went into it, the wider the canyon grew, and the larger the city became. Vemn Enox was a veritable maze before long, the city so wide that Houseless could hardly hope to travel from one side of it to the other before sundown, using such out-of-the-way alleys.

He wound between the buildings, keeping west and away from the major streets that dominated the center of town. From his place between the buildings he could see other changelings that walked the streets openly, and he had always quietly wondered at that. What did it take for the guards to treat them nicely that Houseless did not have? What was different about other changelings as small as he was that would let them walk around freely with the big changelings?

He had tried, of course: tried to be a part of it, to imitate what he saw out there. Somehow, though, he was always seen as different. Perhaps it was the bags under his eyes from nights shivering in the cold, unable to sleep, or perhaps it was his mane, long and unkempt, filled with sand.

Perhaps it was the raw scorpion, dangling from his mouth, that he considered a fortunate meal.

He had no way of knowing, or of even voicing such things in his own head. They were just feelings, just silent questions. Just childhood curiosity. He hadn’t even the presence of mind to be jealous, because he truly could not understand the distinction between himself and the other changelings out there, nor comprehend his exclusion. He just wanted the same sort of life they led, and couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like sometimes. To see the inside of one of the buildings he lived between, to have water delivered to him every day, or to have a big changeling pick him up and hold him and smile, instead of scowling or throwing rocks and shouting.

It must have been great, not to be spit at.

Despite the darkness those thoughts would have brought on a more selfish or self-aware changeling, Houseless just smiled to himself as he envisioned having all of it in his imagination. The very idea of living that life made him happier, even if it had been proven he never would get it. It was a pleasant dream, one he was happy to wander in, even during daylight hours.

He drew his attention back to his tasks for the morning eventually, though. He had his meal, but one thing in his world was more important than food, more important even than his dreams: water. Stealing water in the city required a certain level of bravery. Houseless was fortunate to have developed the skill required for the task early. He had found many young changelings, younger even than himself, dead from dehydration on his endless travels through the alleys of Vemn Enox.

He didn’t feel bad when he found them, except maybe a little sad. After all, finding dead bodies in strange places had been a pretty common occurrence for his entire life. All it had really served to do for him was to place a fear in him that someday he would be one of those dead bodies, unless he could take care of himself.

Houseless reached his destination, cautiously making his way between two houses to the side of the street. He simply stood, waiting patiently, for he had come to this place many times before. Every day, just after the sun was up, big changelings would come down the streets with carts full of boxes, and put the boxes on the doorsteps of houses. The boxes, Houseless had quickly learned, were filled with glass bottles of water, usually ten or so. If one ended up empty, normally nobody noticed, and so he often had to resort to stealing one, drinking it quickly, and putting the empty bottle back before anyone saw him.

On this morning it was different, though. On this particular morning, one that happened every seven days precisely, he did not have to steal a water bottle.

The cart came by at the same time as usual, and Houseless waited patiently as the boxes were set on doorsteps, watching the young adult changeling who did all the work pulling the cart and moving the boxes around. At last the big changeling passed by Houseless' alleyway, looking down it expectantly. His lips showed the first little twitch of a smile as he caught sight of Houseless, and he stopped his cart.

“Right on time, as usual” he said with a sigh, his smile fading slightly.

Houseless just looked at him expectantly, the scorpion still dangling stupidly from his mouth, his dusty tail twitching back and forth in anticipation.

The water-delivery changeling looked around quickly, scanning for guards. There weren’t any about in this part of town, and wouldn’t be until noon, but he always checked just to be safe.

“One of these days I’m going to lose my job over you,” he sighed, unhitching himself and reaching into the cart, pulling out a bottle, heading over to the waiting boy.

Houseless sat down and held his little front hooves up and out, lacking any sense of courtesy or gratitude.

“Oh no you don’t,” he grumbled, holding the bottle just out of reach. “Today we’re doing this different.”

Houseless just cocked his head, pouting, and continued to hold his hooves out.

“Ugh, not the face…” the older changeling boy groaned, closing his eyes for a minute and taking a deep breath. “I can’t deal with those eyes, kid,” he muttered, opening his eyes after regaining his composure. “Today you have to say ‘please’, okay? Say ‘please’,” he urged slowly, repeating it several times until Houseless started to catch on that unless he started imitating, he wasn’t getting his water bottle.

"Peaf...?” he asked, the word as mangled as the scorpion still clutched in his mouth.

“Close enough,” the water-delivery changeling sighed in defeat, giving him the water bottle. “The Kerks didn’t tip me last week, so this is what they get, I guess,” he muttered, trying to justify his breach of code. “It just doesn’t seem right, though… A kid your age, having to beg or steal just to drink? I like to think I do what I can, but I’m just a water-boy,” he sighed dejectedly.

Houseless completely ignored all of the words he didn’t understand as usual, since the water-delivery changeling always seemed to talk like this on the days he came by. Houseless just dropped his scorpion and popped the top off the bottle with his teeth, throwing it back and drinking greedily.

“Wish I could do more for you, kid, but one bottle’s all I can spare... I don’t want to lose my job,” he said apologetically, even though he knew Houseless would never complain, or understand him. Without another word, knowing they would be meaningless, he turned and headed back to his cart. If he wasted much more time, he would certainly be written up. He’d have to pick up the pace on his route today to make up for the lost time, same as always.

Houseless sighed contentedly and licked his lips as he watched him go, the bottle already half-empty. He would drink the rest of it while he ate his scorpion, and then he'd set the empty bottle on a doorstep somewhere; didn’t matter much to him, so long as the bottle went back where it came from. As far as he knew, the water-boy always brought him the exact same bottle, so it made sense to him to always put it back, otherwise he ran the risk of getting nothing.

It was easier to beg than to steal, after all.

Normally the water and the food came at separate times, and the goal became to drink the water as fast as possible. Getting caught stealing water was one of the worst things that could happen, so drinking quickly and running away was key. Houseless had seen plenty of changelings, even the older ones, get a severe beating, and sometimes even die if they fought back. Drinking leisurely was like begging the owner of the house they were stealing from to come and notice, and then the guards were sure to show up.

Drinking too fast was dangerous, though, because many changelings, especially the little ones like him, overdid it. If they drank too fast they would almost always vomit, wasting the precious water. Stealing twice in one day from the same house was a sure way to get guards to come around, so it was generally accepted that you could only get one bottle of water a day, unless you were willing to walk quite a ways to find a doorstep that hadn't already been stolen from.

So having the bottle given to him was a bit of a blessing, for reasons less obvious than the fact that it saved him the effort of timing a dash to someone's doorstep, pacing his drinking, and escaping before someone caught him. He was the only one who knew that the water-boy would stop to give him a drink, so he was the only one who got such treatment, as near as he could tell.

He was several weeks practiced by now at carrying both some food and the bottle, so he went on his way with his head angled down and eyes angled up, looking out from under his eyebrows as he walked with the scorpion crammed as far in his mouth as it would go, and the bottle dangling from his mouth, just barely held by his fangs.

He was quietly reflecting on how good it was that he could wash the disgusting taste of the raw scorpion out of his mouth when he was done with some water, maybe even in a shady spot, when a sudden crash from a nearby alleyway startled him, causing him to jump out of the alley he was currently in and take cover underneath the eaves of a nearby house. Too many times before one crash had become plenty more, and before Houseless knew it some of the bigger homeless changelings came barreling through, fighting one another.

It was best not to get involved, in those cases.

However, after many moments of waiting, no other crashes sounded. A single crash was, generally, a completely different issue. Many times Houseless had gone to investigate a solitary crash to find a big changeling asleep in the alleyway. Sometimes the sleeping changelings were carrying bags of little golden discs, and almost always their breath reeked of something foul that stung Houseless' nose.

In that case it was always best to be first on the scene. The golden discs could solve a lot of problems, if one had a few. Twice Houseless had given them to a big changeling and avoided being beaten badly, though he rarely had more than one or two to himself.

With the thoughts of a whole bag full of them dancing in his head, Houseless left his hiding place and headed cautiously for the direction the sound had come from. He peeked around the corner he suspected to be the origin, and nearly dropped his precious water-bottle from what he saw.

There were two changelings fighting, which in and of itself was not unusual. However, one of the changelings was a girl, one who was obviously a few years older than Houseless and her opponent. The little changeling squaring off against her was even smaller than Houseless was, but what was most astounding of all was that he somehow seemed to have the older, larger female on the defensive.

Her ears were down as she backed away from the changeling who was pawing the ground and buzzing his wings, outer-lenses in place to show he was ready for a fight, hissing angrily. The girl looked incredibly worried, and she cried out as her tiny opponent lunged at her, jumping backwards.

"Stop!" she shouted at the little changeling, her voice higher-pitched than usual from her distress. "I... I don't want to hurt you, okay?" she pleaded, a strained smile on her face as she tried to play the fight away from happening. "You can have the water! I'll just look somewhere else..." she trailed off as her assailant jumped at her again, backing her against a building.

Despite the fact that she was dirty and disheveled like he was, this female changeling could make sounds just like the big changelings in the armor, or the ones in the houses. It wasn't uncommon for the oldest homeless changelings to learn how to make the sounds, but a girl her age that could was a rare thing as far as he knew. Houseless set his items down gently, intrigued enough to continue watching. He recognized the words for 'stop' and 'water', having heard them many times, though he had no idea what they meant.

It wasn't looking good for her. No doubt she could stomp all over her tiny enemy, but for some reason she didn't seem like she was going to. If she didn't just give up and run away, the little changeling would eventually actually try to attack, and from what he had seen Houseless expected he would somehow win. The look on the girl's face, one of sincere distress, bothered him. He didn't like it.

He couldn't just let her stand there and get beaten up, especially if he knew he could stop that one little changeling.

Checking to make sure no one could see him, his water, or his scorpion, Houseless put his outer lenses into place, and warmed himself up, bouncing on his tiny legs, quietly setting a rhythm. He'd fought all kinds of changelings his own size over food, water, and gold discs in the past, so he knew that he could likely take the small changeling down the alleyway. With one last deep breath, Houseless rounded the corner and broke into a sprint, as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

The female changeling had her back to him by now, slowly backing away from the little changeling, who was just as slowly making up the ground she lost. At the sound of Houseless' advance she looked over her shoulder, eyes wide with fear, thinking she was under attack now from two sides. She hardly had time enough to gasp and leap aside as Houseless dashed past her.

The other little changeling, his view obscured by the girl, reacted too late as Houseless barreled into him, the two of them going down in a heap. The alleyway was suddenly alive with the sounds of hissing and buzzing wings, the two young males twisting and punching, their tiny fangs clicking on hide as they gnawed. Neither were old enough or strong enough to do any permanent damage to one another, but it did nothing to diminish the intensity of the brawl.

It was over as fast as it had begun, with Houseless managing to pin his smaller opponent, his fangs to the little changeling's throat. Even his longest teeth weren't long enough to do more than poke painfully through the shell, but the threat was enough to end the fight over. The little changeling stopped his struggling, flicking his outer lenses out of his eyes and signaling that he had given up.

Houseless took his fangs away slowly, his eyes on his opponent the whole time. The little changeling watched him just as warily as he got to his hooves, backing away slowly with his head low. He didn't want any more bruises or cuts than he'd already gotten that day, for if he ran into a bigger homeless changeling while injured he might be in serious trouble. Such were the ways of the streets. Once he was what he felt to be a safe distance from Houseless he turned and bolted, rounding a corner and vanishing from sight.

Houseless removed his outer lenses as well, his job done. He knew he probably should have stayed out of it, but there was just something about the girl in trouble that had bothered him deeply. He knew that had her enemy been bigger he certainly would have left her to her fate. He considered these things as he turned back to face her, a scowl on his face, as if scolding her for making him do something stupid.

She looked shocked to say the least, her mouth hanging open and her green eyes wide with surprise. She shook her head and came back to reality suddenly, taking a cautious step towards Houseless. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice thick with concern. She mistook his scowl for a pained grimace, reaching out to him on instinct with a hoof. "Here, let me see..."

Houseless, not sure what she was trying to do, took a few steps back and let out a short, low hiss in warning.

She withdrew her hoof immediately, a worried look on her face. "S-sorry! Sorry!" she apologized quickly, taking a couple steps away from him. "Is that better?" she asked, giving him a weak smile.

Houseless let the tension in his shoulders fade a little, the distance between them giving him some confidence that nothing was likely to happen that he couldn't get away from. Whoever this girl was, she was nothing like anyone else Houseless had met before. She was timid, fragile almost, and something about that was strangely alluring.

"I, um..." she muttered, kneading her front hooves as Houseless stared at her curiously. "I hope you didn't get hurt. I didn't expect that little one to act like that... normally if I give them a little bit of water they'll leave me alone, but he tried to take the whole bottle! And then you came in, and... everything just got out of hoof," she trailed off quietly, noting Houseless' blank expression.

"You can't speak, can you?" she asked, and her tone carried a note of pity. Hardly any homeless changelings learned to speak on their own, and only the older ones who could survive closer to the main streets ever seemed to bother.

Houseless' ultimate silence and curious expression were answer enough.

The girl sighed, and nodded. "Well then, you won't understand this, but... thank you," she said with a warm smile.

Houseless felt his entire body suddenly go warm, his eyes going wide with surprise. He took in an alarmed gasp of air as his chest felt strangely tighter, his heart leaping into his throat and beating faster. He put a hoof to his chest on instinct, trying to feel for the source of the strange reaction his body was going through. Whatever it was, it was new. Never in his seven years of life had he ever felt anything like it.

It was ecstasy.

Somehow Houseless could tell that the feeling wasn't normal. It felt as if, somehow, it was coming from the female changeling, and not from himself. Her warm smile, the look of gratitude in her eyes, and the powerfully warm, pleasant feeling kept him rooted on the spot, and drove all thoughts of going back for his scorpion away.

"Well... I suppose I should go," she whispered suddenly, the feeling lessening abruptly.

The sudden decrease in magnitude of the feeling sobered Houseless somewhat, and he shook his head vigorously, coming back to reality. His heart was still pounding, and he was still short of breath. His nerves itched and he felt... alive. Alert and energized, as if he had gotten a long night of sleep without waking up shivering, and had eaten a full meal. As the girl moved to take a step away, he found himself moving closer, and reaching out to her.

"What is it?" she asked, surprised by his approach. She watched as Houseless, having no way to convey it any other way, rubbed a hoof on his chest, a pleading look on his face. He wanted the feeling back, badly so. It was the best thing he had ever felt in his entire life: the feeling of gratitude.

"Oh! The feeling," she exclaimed, understanding suddenly what must have happened. She smiled warmly at Houseless and turned back to face him. "I know what you want, but I can't just... give it to you," she said sadly. "It just sort of happens. I don't know how the feeling works. But I really am grateful," she finished politely.

Houseless just scowled at her as the feeling continued to fade in intensity, tapping his chest greedily.

She sighed, understanding the selfish notion for what it was. "I can't just make it happen," she said quietly, her tone pleading with him to understand, even though she knew he couldn't. "But maybe I can be your friend. Would that make you happy?" she asked.

Houseless just stared at her curiously once more, for the start of a new feeling was budding up under the last bits of the gratitude. If it was anything like the other feeling, he wanted to feel it, too.

"How did this work?" she asked herself quietly. "First we have to make a bond, right? Um... yeah, the bond," she declared suddenly, recalling the lesson that was years old now. "My name is Meika," she said, pointing to herself.

Houseless continued to look at her expectantly, his tail twitching.

"Meika," she reiterated again, saying it more slowly. She repeated it several times, and then Houseless suddenly scowled at her, understanding what was going on.

This had already happened once today. Why was everyone trying to get him to make the stupid sounds? First the water-boy and now this? But, just like he had wanted the water, Houseless wanted the feeling. Bearing his annoyance for the sake of getting what he wanted, he decided to at least try.

"Mik," he declared firmly, as if that was all she was going to get, and she would have to accept that. It had worked with the water-boy, and so Houseless tapped his chest as if to say 'now give me what I want.'

"Close, but no," Meika replied with a chuckle, the subtly positive wave of her amusement doing something to take the edge off of Houseless' growing irritation. "Meika," she urged again, pointing to herself all the while.

After several more attempts, Houseless finally managed it. "Meika," he replied at long last, pointing to her when he said it.

"See? I knew you could do it!" she congratulated with a wide smile, and Houseless was again at the mercy of a wave of pure emotional ecstasy, being praised for his efforts. Maybe this whole sound-making thing had something to it.

"So, what's my name?" she asked, pointing to herself, but not saying it this time.

"Meika!" Houseless replied excitedly, eager for more of the feeling.

"Good!" she congratulated again. "Sounds like you get it. Now then, what is your name?" she asked suddenly, pointing at him.

"Meika!" Houseless declared happily, certain that this was what she wanted. After all, anytime she had said 'name' before now, it was supposed to be followed by 'Meika.'

"No," she said with a shake of her head and a weary smile, having expected this to happen. Her mild disappointment in his reply took the high off of the feeling Houseless was getting, drawing his focus back to the lesson.

"Yours. Your name," she said again, pointing at him.

After a few more times repeating the gesture, Houseless thought he knew what she wanted. "Houseless," he said happily, having heard that sound so many times in his life that repeating it was easy.

The girl reeled back like she had been slapped. The feeling coming from her now was strange suddenly. Cold, and empty somehow. "You poor thing... that's not a name," she said sadly, looking at Houseless with deep pity. "You shouldn't call yourself that..."

Houseless just looked at her curiously. The feeling didn't feel good, not like the other ones had. It itched and felt strangely cold... Had he done something wrong? She looked hurt and confused. Perhaps the sound meant something more than just his name.

Perhaps it was not his name after all.

"You don't even have a name, do you?" she asked quietly. Houseless' puzzled and slightly-pained look spoke volumes. Meika's sad look brightened suddenly, though, a smile coming to her face. "Then I'll give you one! That's not how the bond usually works, but you can't go the rest of your life calling yourself Houseless."

Whatever she was excited about, Houseless didn't mind. It seemed like she was happy about something, whatever it was, and that was a step up from the bad feeling a moment ago.

"Now, what to call you? Um... Maybe Lucal? It means 'little warrior,'" she said pleasantly. Her smile shrank shortly afterwards though. "No, maybe not... you're definitely a fighter, but I don't like fighting... something nicer. Like Sinnak. Hmm, no, that doesn't suit you either..." she muttered, closing her eyes tightly and putting her hooves to the sides of her head, as if it hurt.

Her eyes popped open suddenly and she smiled widely. "I've got it! I'll call you Malik," she declared happily. She pointed to him and said it again. "Malik."

It was not long before Houseless was repeating it. It was not long after that that Houseless was Malik.

"Malik! Malik, Malik, Malik!" the young changeling declared happily, delighted to have succeeded at sound-making once again, and to have been rewarded with the good feeling.

Meika just chuckled as she watched him bounce around, too full of energy from the emotions he had experienced flowing from her. "Yes, that's a beautiful name. It suits you very well," she said happily, putting a hoof gently atop Malik's head, for he had drawn near and stayed there long enough for her to dare to touch him. He didn't pull away, and even seemed to enjoy the contact as he rubbed back, saying his name over and over.

Meika just smiled, glad to have brought him such joy. "It means... 'my hero.'"





Malik chuckled as the last words of the memory faded slowly, along with the last rays of the sun outside. In the city below, lamps were springing to life, their green glows rivaling the stars for beauty. It was a memory he had nearly forgotten, he realized, and such was the cause for his tired laugh. For so long his dreams had been only of the terrors he had survived, and those he had caused.

Such a fond memory was buried too deep to dream of anymore. Yet, somehow, it was where his tale had begun.

Aurus didn't interrupt that silence as Malik recovered his thoughts, bringing them into line. "The days before that aren't worth remembering. Just an endless cycle of freezing, starving, stealing... One day was hardly different from another without her. She was just as her name would make her out to be... 'Sunrise.' The dawn of my life," he said with a fond, yet somehow aching, sigh.

"It is a beautiful name," Aurus replied with a small, bittersweet smile of his own.

"She was a beautiful girl," Malik replied without a moment's hesitation. He chuckled suddenly, though, unable to stop a mild bout of laughter. "Her own name was the only one she had gotten right, though," he admitted.

"I thought something was strange in your tale," Aurus replied with a small laugh of his own. "To say 'my hero' is not 'Malik', but 'Ma'Loc'. Little warrior is not 'Lucal', but 'Luc'cayel'." He gave Malik a knowing smile, which the ex-assassin returned with one of his own.

"She spoke changeling better than all of us in those streets, but she was certainly no master," he chuckled. "She was not born houseless, like the rest of us. No, her family fell to ruin much later in her life. She had elementary lessons in magic, speech, reading and writing. In the trash-strewn alleyways, she was like a goddess with even that limited knowledge," he admitted.

"But it made her fragile, growing up in a house that loved her. Her life in the streets was bound to be cruel, for she had learned the lessons of society, not the lessons of survival," he finished quietly.

"When I learned later that my name did not mean what she had thought, it did not matter to me," Malik said quietly, reflecting on it. "In a way... I was glad. To the rest of the world, Malik means nothing. It is just a sound, to them. It was just a sound to me, once. But to Meika it was my name, and to her it held meaning. She made it unique, made it hers, and then made it mine. It has been my greatest treasure."

"She visited me every day, for a time. Not long after, she began to wander with me. We grew... attached. She was so delicate, so naive. She didn't understand many things, and I did not understand many more. She taught me what little she had learned in her life. To speak, to barely read and write... And I protected her. I gave my everything to live up to the meaning she had given my name." Malik put a hoof to the window gently, as if touching the glass would take him back again to those days.

Aurus nodded in understanding, his face now strangely serious as he looked back out the window to the city below. "I was right after all," he said simply. "You once knew a world of beauty. A perfect beauty that only you could see," he clarified. The world he saw, and the world Malik had seen, were not the same, yet neither was more worthy than another.

"That may be so," Malik replied with a tired sigh. It was already evening, but there was still so much to tell. "I hope, for all our sakes, that the beauty you see never fades. For me, it already had," he whispered, readying himself for the next, more painful memories.

"I have three dreams which plague me even still," he began quietly. "One of failure, one of sorrow... and one of innocence lost."