It was a cold, dark, night. Even colder and darker than usual. The Ghost King sat timidly upon his throne. Just a few more weeks and he would have his eclipse. But for now he was stuck in this mountain, the curse of all Ghosts lay upon it. He could leave when it was night, but he didn't feel like it right now, the rest of his subjects were out enjoying themselves. The regular frightening of mortals was getting tiring for him. So he busied himself with looking after the topic of his fire blooded son.

    The boy had recently got himself tangled in the affairs of their neighbors, the Claw Tribes. He honestly didn't see what was so interesting about those furry, feathered, felines. And birds, he never wanted to see another bird, ever again. Anything with feathers was a nuisance. Oh wait, that brought him back to the subject of his son. He sighed, drawling lazily, some feathers had to be exceptions.

    He was interrupted suddenly and a loud crashing sound echoed repeatedly through the tunnel in front of him. The mentioned son came running in breathing hard. And he was wearing peasants' garb, the audacity!

    "Father!" He panted, wiping his long white hair from in front of his eyes.

    "Son, a prince does not run, anywhere. Why do you look so flustered?" He exclaimed.

    He blushed ashamedly, "Oh, I was uh...watching the Spring Festival, down west."

    Just great, he had been fraternizing with the Claw Tribes, the winged cats. I sighed and buried my face into the crook of my palm.

    "Xanthos, you're already a bit...let's just say unique."

    His face dropped, this was a subject he didn't like talking about. "Yeah I know, but I have some really important information-"

    "I'm saying, you need to stay away from the Claws, if you want to rule this mountain one day you need to be more... normal." he finished.

    "This is more important than that-"

    "I'll have no choice but to ground you, no flying if this Claws business keeps up." The king informed.

    Shock plastered his face, The Ghost King felt a pang of guilt. He didn't like being the strict one, but when the future of his kingdom was at stake. Well, a king put his people first. Even if they were a bunch of savage bloodthirsty horrors that literally deprived creatures of their happiness.

    "What! But, my flight feathers just-"

    "STOP." Xanthos winced. "Don't...don't do that. Not in my throne room. Don't you have better things to do?"

    "I understand, father," He whispered, margining in the tone of respect.

    He turned around as if to leave, but stopped as if deciding something. Then turned back around with an angry expression on his face.

    "I thought you like to know that there will be no festival anymore, because now the entire Bird Nation and the Bee Kingdom are at war!"

    Then he stormed off and the sound of angry flapping was heard like a giant bird was taking off.

    Just great, now the Ghost King had some war to deal with.