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The Curse of Maraqua: Memories - Part One

by charlotte203368


Part One

This is the third story in The Curse of Maraqua series.

A Darigan Eyrie, Moonshadow was his name, silently alighted on the shoreline of Mystery Island. His purple, moonlit wing-feathers dragged in the sand as he tromped along. That was when he heard a noise.

     Whirling around, clicking his beak anxiously, he plodded hesitantly towards the sound. Another squealing noise came from the undergrowth. Carefully, he picked away the ferns with his claws.

     A baby Eyrie, much like himself, squabbled about in it, clicking his beak furiously. Moonshadow chuckled. He lifted the baby up into his claw, and it quieted down. Laughing softly, Moonshadow flew into the air, up towards the Darigan Citadel.

     On the other side of the world, Fyora curiously picked up a basket left at her door.

     Inside of it was a white Uni.


     Moonshadow's mate, Illiria, had died long ago in the minor skirmishes between Fyora and Lord Kass. Lo and behold, reader, he did not know that Illiria had also been a liar and traitor.

     Moonshadow knew much of the art of fighting. He was going to teach his adopted son this. As he looked down at his newfound kin, he smiled as only a Darigan Eyrie can smile.

     "Toran will be your name. Toran," whispered Moonshadow softly. The baby squeaked softly. Moonshadow smiled again. His whole life had changed. Now he could take his final revenge on Fyora for Illiria.


     Fyora looked at the beautiful Uni. Sighing; she pulled her inside the castle, into her headquarters where only her servants were able to access. Setting her down on the bed, Fyora looked at the Uni curiously. She detected a small birthmark that looked like a squiggle under her left thigh.

     "Daughter of Theresa, I name you Alena," murmured Fyora gladly, smiling a rare smile. She was going to train Alena to be as prestigious in battle as her mother was.

     It was going to be a long year.


     Years later…

     Toran, now a fully-fledged blue Eyrie, scouted around in the vast expanse of woodland beneath the Darigan Citadel. His sleek fur did not shine, for the Citadel cast the woodlands in shadow.

     His large amber eyes roved the pine trees around him, glimpsing nearly everything in his way. He held a sword with a blue pommel-stone at his side. Moonshadow said he had found it in the cradle with him. It was not a normal blade. The steel, or whatever it was, could cut through water easily, and could slice through anything.

     Toran also carried a longbow and a quiver of arrows, though he seldom needed it.

     Toran also heard someone bumbling through the underbrush behind him that he had scaled over neatly. Whirling around, he went nose-to-nose with a large mutant Lupe that lived in the Citadel with him.

     "Hello, Varson," Toran said coldly, eyeing the Lupe suspiciously. Ever since he had come to the Citadel, Varson had waged a feud against him.

     Varson glared at Toran spitefully. He had hated the Eyrie ever since Moonshadow had brought him to the Citadel. He was the one who deserved to be leader until Darigan came back, not Toran!

     Varson sidled over to Toran, not noticing his eyes looking at him. Toran drew his dagger and waved it in front of Varson's nose.

     "I wouldn't suggest doing that," said Toran, sheathing his dagger into his belt. Varson also sheathed his dagger.

     "I suppose since you're here, we better forage some food. You can look on the ground, while I scout from the sky," Toran suggested, aware of Varson's piercing glare.

     "Okay." Varson muttered. Under his breath, he muttered a curse. Turning around, his bright green eyes roved the forest around him.

     Turning back, Varson could not see Toran. He had lifted off into the sky.


     Alena examined her hooves and horn closely in her mirror. Those were the only weapons she needed, aside from the usual armor. Her training session that day had been long and strenuous.

     Expertly, she lashed out at a cucumber sitting on a plate on her bed. It was split neatly in half. Next, she fired a bolt of energy from her horn out at a dartboard hung up on her room's wall. With an earsplitting boom, it shattered into a thousand pieces onto the floor.

     Alena looked into her mirror. For the past few years she had been effortlessly scrying on it. But she could only conjure up pictures of a blue Eyrie. It was so boring.

     Hungrily, she set her mirror down, and called for a plate of food.

     As she munched down on it, she had a feeling that she was being watched.


     Toran looked around apprehensively. His stomach was quivering, like he had a Beekadoodle flapping around in it. He felt there were eyes everywhere, watching him do everything.

     Even so, he was glad to be away from Varson. His whole body twitched at the thought of Varson's dagger inching near to his side. His blue wings flapped higher into the air, until he was barely visible from the ground. White clouds streamed into his face to meet him. Hovering above one, he could glimpse the outer reaches of Faerieland.

     Moonshadow had told him about Queen Fyora. She was the one who had killed Illiria. For that, he had learned to hate Fyora and all of Faerieland. Everything inside of it made him twinge with pain. For him, Faerieland was a place where he was never going to go-until he could wreak revenge upon Fyora.

     Still, Toran was curious about Faerieland. Was it fate, or was it simply curiosity? That thought, he told himself, would have to wait to prove itself.

     In an elegant sweep of his wings, he spiraled downwards towards the Citadel.


     Alena looked out of her window. She could barely see a sturdy blue form of what looked like an Eyrie spiraling down towards the Citadel. Throwing down her muffin, she opened her window and stuck her face out of it. The winds buffeted her face, but she did not tear her gaze away from the Eyrie she was watching. She wondered. Could it be the Eyrie from her scrying sessions?

     Pulling out her mirror, Alena's horn glowed. A picture of the Eyrie came up, flying down towards the Citadel. Eagerly, Alena looked at him closer. Though she could not hear anything, she knew he was in an argument with a mutant Lupe. Worriedly, she dared to watch the epic battle between them.


     Toran knew Varson was in a bad mood. He had left him behind, scavenging for food, and had returned empty-handed.

     Toran was not in the mood to hurt anyone, and he never had been. Moonshadow was curious about that, since normally Darigans were rather merciless, though Moonshadow was not like that.

     He knew the fight had commenced when Varson drew his sword. Steel and Toran's strange sword's material clanged together, ringing like a bell. Light flickered off of their blades, dancing around and around. Varson was tiring, and Toran knew it. Weaving around him, he nicked the edge of his neck with his blade.

     The people around him were shouting to kill him, but Toran knew he couldn't, though he didn't show it. Lifting his sword up, he cuffed Varson soundly on the head with its hilt.

     Varson fell to the ground, unconscious. No one cheered at all. Toran didn't care about that. Quietly, he slunk into his room.


     Alena, after watching the Eyrie battle, was almost surer than sure that she knew who he was. The only task left was to go find him.

     Armed only with her magic, hooves, horn, and training that was nearly done, Alena slunk off into the night, towards the Darigan Citadel carrying only her mirror and rations.


     Toran's adopted father, Moonshadow, silently slunk into his room.

     "I'm worried about you, Toran. At this age, you could have slain many. Why do you spare them, instead of the Darigan way?" Moonshadow asked.

     Toran shrugged dismissively.

     "I'm different, Moonshadow. My life has been torn apart by being different than everyone else. I'm not a Darigan person. I'm an Eyrie, not what everyone thinks I am." Toran answered sadly, sheathing his sword and dagger into his belt.

     Moonshadow left the room. Toran was acting stranger than ever.

     The next day was more fruitful in prisoners, though not really the best day of Toran's life. Varson had recovered from his nasty head bang, and was teasing him mercilessly. For some reason, Toran was beginning to have second thoughts about him. He was such an annoying Lupe.

      A yell rent through the air as a young red Zafara like himself rushed up to him. Pursuing her were six guards. They all stopped at the sight of Toran, knowing how dangerous he was to all of them. Cowering beneath his gaze, they bowed their heads down to him.

     "Sire, this is a Meridellian we have captured, but she escaped us. Do what you will with her, sir." One of the guards said, still bowing.

     "Go, now, whoever you are," whispered Toran into the Zafara's ear.

     "I am Rose," the Zafara whispered, after clearing the wall behind him. An arrow zinged above her head. She stood there, transfixed. Varson was standing there, holding his bow, ready to shoot again.

      Toran automatically raised his bow, and let his arrow fly.

     It hit home. Varson shrieked in agony as the arrow pierced his foot. Toran found himself running alongside the Zafara.

     Moonshadow yelled out to Toran.

     "You belong here, son!" he yelled.

     "No, I don't! You're all evil!" screamed Toran, tears streaming from his eyes. The guards blundered after him, and Toran and Rose quickened the pace.

     Soon, they were tiring. Rose hopped onto Toran's back, and they soared into the air. Arcing down into the forest, they crashed into a huge expanse of woodland. Rose yelled, and tumbled into the underbrush. Minutes later, Toran was hit in the head by something and collapsed, unconscious.

To be continued...

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