Before time began

by Swiftplural

Prologue

A three-year-old you, sits atop your adoptive father's back, traversing, a long and dim corridor, towering stone columns lining the path, their height seemingly infinite as darkness conceals there meeting point with the ceiling.

Gradually, a faint glimmer of light emerges in the distance, growing larger until an open doorway comes into view. Your father nudges you gently, signaling for you to dismount from his back. He passes through the doorway, and you follow closely behind.

As your eyes adjust to the dazzling brightness, you spot your mother. She appears weary, her straight ruby hair cascading around her neck, partially concealing her snow-white fur. You yearn to run towards her, but your father restrains you. His grey aura enveloping you as he leans down, cautioning that they have been through a lot and do not need any... excitement at the moment. Confused, you glance back and notice a slight movement where your mother cradles something in her four legs.

Upon receiving a nod from your father, whose stoic presence emanates comfort, you approach. Reaching the side of the bed, you struggle to climb up, and eventually, your father lends a helping hoof, gently pushing you forward with his head.

As you crawl across the bed, a soft murmur emanates from the vicinity of your mother. Although her lips remain still, she notices your perplexity, offering a gentle smile. She lowers her head, using her mouth to unveil the object concealed by a white towel. As the fabric falls away, a small snow-white wing is revealed. Your gaze ascends to behold a tiny body, eyelids, a mouth, a horn, and finally, a muzzle. Overwhelmed, you freeze in that moment. Then, her eyes flutter open, locking with yours. A surge of indescribable emotion courses through you, causing your hands to clench tightly, turning white. The feeling subsides briefly before resurging, triggering an intense protectiveness that compels you to disregard your father's wishes. You hasten forward until your hand and face make contact with her velvety coat. In the periphery of your consciousness, you notice your knee touching your mother's tensed leg, which feels as solid as a rock. Yet, nothing could ever divert your attention from those captivating magenta eyes.

Comments

[AvoidingFever17]

11591590
I kinda havent read it yet
Just looked at the description but hey I'll see

[Swiftplural]

11591673
bru

[AvoidingFever17]

11591674
Sorry!