Prologue
Fantasy, Year 318
It was the year Belkevin turned three hundred. He was older now. His Grove had been his own for many years after he left his sire, who still lived peacefully in his own Grove with his mare, Belk’s mother. His sire was well past the age of Elder, two thousand and nine hundred years old. He was done siring foals but had joined the Unicorns of the Monasteries. These were the ones who held great power, the eldest of the species that still endured, some even nearing their fifteenth thousandth year.
Time had no meaning within the enchanted woods, other than a measure of wisdom and strength. Belkevin was still young. His father still called him his foal in his eyes. It was something that had annoyed the stallion back then, although now he would give anything to be called that by his father again.
The first time he was called up to the monastery, they summoned him to be a breeder, just like his father before him. He remembered the excitement. It was finally time for a foal of his own. Whatever it would be, the chance was an honor.
In his youth, many thoughts had run through his head, especially his nervousness. He had not left his Grove in a long time, and like many Unicorns, he had grown lonely. For a moment, the idea of having a woman by his side sounded comforting. Maybe in the future. For now, he hoped for a male foal. He wanted to complete his duty to his kind.
He traveled in his true form for the days it took, moving across sacred and protected lands. The King of Dragons and his kind guarded these grounds from those who would seek to harm them. Every part of a unicorn’s body could be used in some brew, whether it was the glossy, silky mane that shimmered and fell like a curtain along the side of the neck, the long and slender lion’s tail that nearly touched the ground but curled now and then, or the thick horn on his head. It was white, but when the light touched it, it shimmered with a pearlescent glow.
He was not old enough to bear a beard, a clear sign of his youth.
Through the enchanted forest, the leaves above him filtered the sunlight, casting shifting patterns on the ground. The shade kept him hidden. But through the canopy, he could see creatures flying above with massive wings of white feathers.
He continued his quiet steps until the boulder beside him echoed with the soft landing of hooves. His black eyes, deep and without pupils against his pale coat, turned to the sound. There on the large boulder stood three Pegasi watching him. Two males and a mare. Their wings were tucked at their sides, still showing their beauty and grace. Their feathers gently shuddered as they adjusted, their eyes never leaving him.
They let out a sound that, to a modern person, would have resembled a diesel engine rumbling to life. It grew into a louder neigh and the pounding of their hooves against the rock. Even the mare joined in, encouraging him. They wanted him to neigh back, to answer their call, but he only turned his head and continued his journey.
“Come now, stallion!” The largest of the males puffs in agitation at the Unicorn that disregarded their teasing. “We know the route you travel!”
With a few flutters of their wings, they came closer to him. There was a prance in their step as they watched the unicorn, who kept his head low during his travel, subtly smelling the ground as he jumped over a small ledge and continued upward. The ones following him needed only a single jump and a flap of their bird-like wings to keep up.
“The Dragons attend the Monasteries. My father Aletros is there. You will be-!”
He nearly kicked when the mare came up and bit him hard on the rear to push him away from the unicorn. “Silence, Adrameon. You wicked spoil, he is only a wee bit away!”
“You bite me harshly.” Yet still, the male lowered his head and looked back at his mate with fondness. “He is special. Son of Blythe, whom Julius also sired. He is to continue that line of Julius’s magic.”
The other male tried to be playful and bumped the unicorn on his side, wings and all, with a snicker. “We shall be the first to greet you there, great stallion!”
They flew off over the trees, their excited laughter echoing through the skies. The unicorn looked up and smiled a smile they did not see.
He had made it there before sunset.
His father was indeed there, along with the Pegasi. It was a gathering of all the leaders for some reason. The only reason they would come together was if Julius, the eldest of them all, summoned them. Not even Diaval, the King of Dragons, would ignore a notice from one so old and powerful. They were all allies, hidden away in their respective lands, separate from the rest of Fantasy. The older the species, the more animalistic and magical they were. Diaval was the youngest among the leaders.
He was outside because only Unicorns and the chosen few were allowed to pass through the open stone doors. The human woman was no doubt inside waiting for him. He was ready. He wanted a foal. If there were any gods to worship, he wished one would grant him a male.
Blythe stood beside Julius, his head held high and his chest out. He was large, his age shown in the long beard that framed his face. Beside him was Belk’s mother, a sweet white mare with deep black eyes they all resemble. His father had taken her from a large, wealthy town where she had once been the eldest daughter of a nobleman. Now she rested calmly at his side, her tail gently wagging at the sight of Belk. She greeted him by rubbing her snout against his.
Blythe had walked in alone due to the business of the court, but walked out with her bonded. There was nothing more romantic than that, he supposed. That was simply the way things were with their kind, as animals. They saw what they wanted and did what they could to have it, although for him it had not even been a fight.
Belk wasn’t looking for a bond. He wanted no mate. He wanted a son.
The only one in human form was Julius, who grabbed Belk by his head with the Elder’s large hands on his cheek and looked at the younger stallion’s eyes. Three hundred years was childlike compared to the one almost fifteen thousand standing before him, but his appearance was that of a young adult. Even at his age, the human form before him was youthful.
“Our kind are few. Belkevin, yer magic has always been puissant than other males. Like yer sire’s, it has been deemed that yer will be alongside the remaining two males to help our kind persevere. If accepted, we have a chosen maiden in waiting at the altar.”
He could not look at anyone else but Julius before him. Not at the King nearby who was accompanied by his closest General Bhaltair. Even next to him stood the leader of the Pegasi, Aletros, a mighty white stallion with massive wings. Beside him was his mate and their two foals. One was the son who had teased him during his journey here. The other was his sister, Serana, the youngest, who stood close to her mother. She had the same white and golden mane as the rest of her family.
She was looking over at the dragons, playfully trotting and throwing them happy whinnies and front hoof kicks near Diaval, who was lying there watching her with a small smile despite his wounds. Her mother had to calm her down to maintain the important silence during the tradition.
But he knew this was in his blood, just like his sire before him. His body knew what he needed. “Aye,” the unicorn responds.
He remembers the old Unicorn’s warm smile. He was always friendly, and his eyes held so much wisdom that Belk could only fathom.
“Yer sire will take you inside. Shift before entering our chamber.”
Nine months later, Julius sent word to him again in his Grove by an owl, Julius’s favorite bird. It was the message he had been anticipating. He had sired a foal. A male! He was to return to the monastery to retrieve him, and he would. He did so immediately.
His first foal he named Dorian.
He was a human babe at birth. After a few days at the temple, Belk still remembered when he trekked back to his Grove on foot, holding him swaddled in blankets. He remembered seeing a dragon watching him from a distance in the mountains as he walked. The dragon was large and black, still wearing that armor. Others danced through the skies nearby, giving out their cries as they prepared for battle, but the Unicorn paid no attention to any of them. Still, he knew one of them was watching him.
He carried his babe with care. The foal did not shift until he was a few months older, the age when they could begin taking their true form, just under a year.
Those memories were also burned into his mind. At the age of three, his little foal ran around the Grove, which had grown in size. More land had been gifted to him, and with the extra space, he always kept his son in sight near the center. The foal loved to play with butterflies and moths, swimming in the beautiful, sparkling water beneath the mighty oak tree. Belk loved swimming with him.
The little foal’s knobby knees pressed against his massive snout as he curiously sniffed around the long spiraling horn, making the Unicorn smile each time the foal showed his wonder. Even at such a young age, he could smell the magic. But Dorian snorted and neighed happily whenever it tickled his nostrils.
“I want horn this big, papa.”
“Aye, you will, one day. You are only young once. Enjoy it when it is not so heavy.”
“When I do, can we fight? Like I see you do with the other big male?”
“Those are for different reasons,” he uses his snout to nudge his young one’s hind quarters back towards their hobbit home. “One day, you will have others of your own to battle.”
“Like you!?”
He chuckles.
The world around them moved on, as time naturally did. He heard the messages of battles and wars that raged, but he paid them no mind. He knew his path. His purpose. He was meant to nurture his foals until they grew. He was content with his life, though unexpected events sometimes called him away from his Grove for years at a time between moments when he had no foals to care for. But he always returned.
Sometimes he wished for a mare. He would not have returned to the monastery if that were so, and would not have had to mate with the chosen virgins for the chance of another foal. Dorian moved away when he came of age. After every male moved on, he was alone again.
His eldest son Dorian, saw a female who left the village every morning to walk into the woods for water. At the age of over five hundred, he was now a grown male who had no foals of his own since he was not a breeder. He had eyes only for her. His features resembled his sire’s, with white hair, black eyes, and similar facial structure, and he watched her only in his human form. As if drawn by something deeper, he moved into that town and lived there for a long time. It was something Belk abhorred. He eventually went into the village himself to try to retrieve him. And in turn, Julius asked Diaval to retrieve Belkevin.
Dorian would not go. He had a mission. He wanted Ylanda.
He moved out of that village with her. He made her a mare, and he returned with her to his Grove. And Dorian was happy.
All of his children were happy.
He was happy.
Belk was well over a thousand years old when the skies darkened, signaling the beginning of the vicious plague.
Then… his foals were dying.
Dorian and Ylanda ran to him, and his other three males came to him as well. They were scared. The sickness was eating even the vegetation of the forest, creeping closer and closer as if it had a mind of its own. The spread was slow, but it came ruthlessly. He had to leave his Grove behind. It was not the loss of the land that crushed him, but the sight of his little foal, his youngest, who was only eight years of age. He had to leave the young one’s still body behind when the blackness covered him. A sight that would be burned into his mind forever.
The trip to the monastery was a one-day journey by running, and they ran the entire time. Yet one by one, the sickness took them. Belk wanted to return. He would have thrown away his life instantly for a chance to spare theirs, but the ones who were caught would scream for them to keep going. Their screams continued to haunt him as they begged for everyone else’s life. They pushed him forward.
He should’ve done more to save them.
Diaval had found them. They would not have made it to the monastery because it was already too late. The eldest of the Unicorns was dead. The King of Dragons had been there during their final moments, even with Belk’s sire. Their last words were a plea. A promise for Diaval to keep.
Yet there Diaval found him, sitting on the forest floor with Dorian in his arms. Further back, Ylanda was too exhausted to run. Her leg had broken. The sickness, as cold and hateful as it was, took advantage of the weakness. Dorian had screamed in anguish, trying to get to her and free her, but he had come in contact with it. It was too late by the time Belk stopped him.
And he held him close while his son drew his final mournful breaths. As painful as the sickness was, he did not fight it. He did not want to. Instead, he stared at his father, who was screaming out, praying for anything to stop this. Wherever it came from, whatever happened, why was it doing this?
Before the sickness could spread to him and his skin, Belk felt a tight grip on the back of his tunic pulling him away. That was when he went frantic. His whinnies and cries filled the air as he fought to reach his dying son, who needed him. Yet Diaval turned him around, grabbed the front of his shirt, twisted it, and lifted him into the air so his feet barely touched the ground. Diaval stared down at the still dying Dorian, then looked up at him. The sadness and grief were still present in his eyes.
“NO! Diaval, NO!” Belk’s nails were enough to break the skin on his arm as he struggled, his last anger mixing with tears cascading down his cheeks. “My foals! My babies!” he cried up to the heavens. “You do not understand! Let it take me, please!”
The dragon said nothing. He turned and walked away with Belk still held high in the air, dangling above the ground, now covered in black tar like parasites. For just a moment, Belk wondered how Diaval was not consumed by the darkness and why it did not climb up his legs. But upon seeing his son’s body now covered and still, those questions faded…
“Don’t make me leave him like that!” Belk’s face scrunched up as the pain in his heart could no longer fit in his chest. It burst forward into another louder, mournful wail. The flash of Dorian’s life from start to finish passed before his eyes, along with all the others, even the short eight years of his youngest. “I beg you. Don’t make me do this!”
“I will return and give them a proper burial, this I swear to you. Stay low and wait for me,” the dragon said as he opened a portal that lit up the darkness around them. Belk released another heavy cry when Diaval tossed him through and shut it behind him.
He fell onto a patch of grass as the portal shut behind him. The warmth of the Earth’s sun rested on his skin. He was left alone on the grassy field somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Ireland, far from any human village.
Far from where any soul could hear the mournful keens of the last unicorn.
