Xanthos was grieving.

A lot of creatures were in sorrow. He had attended Zach's funeral. Nepal had given a speech telling everyone how his son had let Tenebris posses him, and kill him, so that the rest of us may live a peaceful life. His plan had worked.

Xanthos had seen Zara, she hadn't even cried, there had been a blue tabby he-claw next to her the entire time as she stood next to her parents. She was sole heir now, she would become the next chief. Xanthos wishes he could talk to her about it, because leading really sucked.

He remembered when he had become the next King, seeing how is father was dead. Xanthos believed he was really dead this time. Xanthos knew that his father was not a bad person, he had been under bad influences, and bitter after his wife's death. Xanthos knew he looked like his mother, everyone used to tell him they had the same eyes. He didn't remember her death, but once his father explained it, Xanthos remembered how he had hated his reflection.

He knew it must be ten times worse for Zara, because her reflection was her brother.

Today was not a happy day. It was raining, the world was getting ready for spring. Xanthos had a kingdom to look over, Keith, his friend, had taken over momentarily. They had mended thier friendship after his father's death and Xanthos had revealed to the entire kingdom he was a freak of nature. It had taken some time, there were still a few who didn't trust him, but Ghost tradition was that the bloodline must continue the throne. He was doing a pretty good job for someone who was only thirteen.

    Xanthos wandered around the throne room, his primary feathers had finally grown back. They dragged along behind him, sticking out of the black robe he was wearing, too big to hide now anyway. There were carvings in the walls, Ghost history of past kings. His own carving was the most recent, a chiseled cut of a young boy with glowing wings and a Fyreflower above his head. He was the youngest king by far. Of course when you have ten Ghost years to every one human year, birthdays mean nothing.

    "Stay in the light my son. Even when darkness won. You're a joyful glow. The evil will always go. Stay in the light my son. Born under a midnight sun. My love for you, never undone. Stay in the light my son." He hummed softly, as he saw a carving of his mother next to his father. That was a lullaby she used to sing to him. Of all the things he had forgotten he had never forgotten her lullaby.

    He remembered the last line, from the Prophecy of the Four. Try to find the one that died. Knowledge is the true power inside.

    Try to find the one that died.

    This story wasn't over yet.