They should have paid attention to the skies.
Jirani's eyes tracked upward, a sigh welling in his chest. The longer he thought about it, the more ridiculous their error became. The firmament over his head should have been a blue as clear as his gaze. Instead, it currently blazed an eerie white, devoid any sign of cloud or sun to gentle the glare. Earlier this morning, that stark brightness had been streaked with deep violet lightning and thunder that screamed like dying hares. And before that – back when there had been a pride beyond the precipice crumbling under his paws, not just a smoking crater littered with corpses burnt beyond recognition, crushed past the point of proper shapes, half-buried in earth and rubble twice any lion's size – the oddities had been simpler. Blue clouds that fell and crested like the sea. Stars that twinkled like fireflies in the middle of the day. Their scribes had documented them, their elders had wondered about them, but they had done precious little else.
What fools they had been! All the signs were there. Why hadn't they seen it coming?
Best estimation placed the meteor in the middle of the night. But how could he say for sure? They had also estimated that the sun had been up for three days by that point. Never once in that time had it set beyond the horizon, only hovered, grew bigger and ever more blinding overhead. When they finally realized that it was not a sun... Their doom came upon them too quickly. The scholars had gaped, amazed. The priests had probably prayed. That was what they always did, anyway.
The lion's mouth quirked, not quite managing a chuckle. Laughter felt wrong here, in the middle of so much death. He felt compelled to give them what little credit they deserved in the end, however: of course they had prayed. How else was a priest to respond to anything?
As a matter of fact, now that he could look back on things, there was much Jirani could understand. How were any of them to respond? All of his pride – may they rest in whatever passed for peace – tried to make sense of what was happening to them in the only way they knew how. That was how they had always looked upon the world, after all. It was all just so many mysteries waiting to be solved, a tangled bramble thicket that could be set all to rights if only the correct vines were cut. The gods, those mysterious winged beings who shared our shape and held the world in their paws, were the key. The lens that would reveal precisely the right spot to swipe. They had obsessed over them, devoted themselves to them, in a lineage running back longer than he could imagine.
So when the heavens had opened, and the Sun-That-Was-Not blazed down toward them... How could they think it was anything but heaven-sent?
His parents had opened their throats in praise, roar and song mixing in entreaty, poignant only because they hadn't yet realized the finality of it. The pride had followed their King and Queen, bound by love and fear and duty. The Prince could only hope that some had realized, as his Guardian had, the error of their devotion. He could hope that he wasn't the only one to behold the carnage from the outside. And yet... The young lion shuddered. He wasn't sure he would wish the sight of the strange, massive stone's impact on anyone. The subtle curve of it, and how it turned as it fell! The way the ground shook as it landed! Worst of all, the way that the song of his brethren fragmented into wails and panicked pleas before... He shook his head, locks of purple-black mane haloing about his shoulders. The images refused to fade.
What they should have done from the very beginning was run. But they had ever been set in their ways. Some had said that would be the price paid for having one's rulers play the part of clergy, too. Maybe that really had mattered in the end. Maybe nothing did.
Either way, that thinking seemed too far away for him to grasp now, along with the devotion he'd once held so dear. Both of those had been left down there. The lion's paw flicked, sending a stone sailing from the rise into the crater surrounding the meteor. He watched it fall, bouncing off some indistinguishable chunk of something that had once been a friend. Maybe he should have felt bad, flinched – something. Instead, there was just an emptiness.
Maybe he hadn't gotten away clean after all. The thought made a wry smile slip over his muzzle. Something right about a piece of him being down there, among the charred and blackened bones of his pride. Prince of the Graveyard. Prince of Corpses. Prince of the Sun-That-Was-Not. Prince of Nothing.
A dry sound cut through the gloom: a low chuckle. Despite himself, and not without a little disgust, Jirani realized it was coming from him. Black lips pulled, almost painfully, back from his fangs. He'd never grinned this way before. Such a wildness to it, his teeth bared to the gums! There was just something the tiniest bit funny about it, wasn't there? Here he stood, but he was just as dead as all the rest. Just a little amusing... The giggle wound itself up, tenuous, frenzied, before he choked it off with a sob. To begin laughing here- Dear gods! He would never stop. The male wasn't sure which he feared more: that the memories of these past few days would linger forever in his mind, or what he was beginning to suspect was the terrifying threat of delirium. Wouldn't it be a kick if they were one and the same?
He could feel the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth again.
Snarling, Jirani turned his back on the scene. He would not give in to mania, not today. Not as long as he had hold of his wits. Ha, the irony of it! How often had his parents told him that he'd be better off without them?
Perhaps, though... To be safe, perhaps he ought not laugh for a while. It was better to be a little dour than to allow the threat of the rictus grin to come to the fore. It ached, even now: a perversion of gallows' humor too intense for his mind to fathom. No, better that he restrain himself, for... His paws stumbled over themselves, tripping as his thoughts did over the enormity of the commitment he faced. For as long as necessary. He would strive to leave such petty things behind in the crater, too; his heritage, his pride, his joy. If it meant walking away with life and mind intact, surely there was nothing too great to surrender.
Word Count: 1,150