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SOLO 1: Through Preston's Eyes

Preston sighed heavily, holding a low-wicked candle in one hand and a thick tome under the other. He was sure of one thing: Malo was a very restless sleeper.

To anyone but Preston, the beautifully hand-crafted clock in the library foyer would sound eery in the dark, empty library. But the chimes inside had been his company for many years and he found comfort that the little tyke was asleep at only 2am, besting the rest of the tiresome week by three whole hours.

The Noctowl collapsed at his desk and let out a long sigh that sounded like a temperate spring breeze. What had he been thinking? He wasn't fit to be a parent! He had too much to do and no time to train an assistant, especially Malo. The little guy could barely speak, let alone catalogue books and fetch treats. When Preston wasn't feeding, reading to or changing the infant, he was looking for him and trying to do his scholarly duties.


Another thing was sure and it made Preston wish he could just stuff the litwick back into his egg and leave him for another to find: Malo was different. Even for an infant, the tyke was bizarre. It had started with the sleeping problem. The litwick was active, even refusing to take naps. By the end of the day, when sleep was creeping into Malo's eyes and it was really time for bed, the litwick refused his bed. It wasn't that he wasn't tired; he just didn't want the child-sized bed Preston had borrowed from the training barracks. He wanted to sleep in Preston's messenger bag, where he was curled up presently. And when he was comfortable, he would continue to get up unless the hearth was lit.

But it didn't end there. The tiny hatchling was also a giggler. Almost everything made him smile, even if it was a leaf falling off a tree. He would knock stacks of books and papers over, move things around and even throw things into the fire to see them dance in the flames. His laugh wasn't cruel, it was just persistent and always seemed to be echoing. And when Preston tried to correct or punish that behaviour, he just laughed more!


The behaviour was out of place, but maybe the Litwick was just isolated. It had been a week since his hatching and Preston had not let him out of the library. The world was too big right now for such a tiny thing.When he could start walking properly and talking normally, the noctowl would let him explore.

As Preston leaned back in his chair, he heard raindrops pattering against the pane of the large glass window behind him. He shut his eyes and thought back to the last stormy night, about three days before.

He was unaware of the Litwick's need for life energy and Malo had taken ill. His skin was translucent and his yellow eyes were milky. He kept flashing in and out of view, panting and running a high fever. There had been no smiling that day, but a trail of melted, gooey wax followed the litwick wherever he went. Preston had hit the books and researched ghosts and their habits and discovered the serious condition Malo was going through. The discovery was a grim one and a castle horse had been borrowed, the mentor going to the market village in a fierce downpour. He had banged on the door of the apothecary until he was answered and sold a very expensive jar of black, purple and white liquid, which could also be extracted from people in another way, though the Litwick wasn't old enough. Posthaste, it had been delivered and the candle creature was back to normal, 8 more jars now on reserve.


As the thunder crackled outside, there was a little coo from the door. Preston, almost asleep from his thoughts, leaned further back and sighed. He didn't open his eyes as a tiny form clambered onto his lap, leaning his smooth hair against his mentor's chest and letting out a tiny sigh of his own. The litwick's body flashed from warm to cold as it got comfortable, a tiny hand grabbing the fabric of the librarian's shirt. His flame burned brightly, but without heat.

Preston felt a smile tug on his lips and he looped his arms around Malo's little form. Let him be different. Let him need expensive medicine. Let him sleep where he liked. For that moment, Preston didn't care.

SOLO 3: Punishment


"Malo." Preston's voice was sharp and cold, piercing the early morning's silence.

The Litwick lifted his head from his strung hammock by the dying embers of the fire. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and mumbled "no" as he rolled back over, the blanket up over his head, the flame burning from under the sheets.

"Malo!" Preston hissed again, from the door of the little one's room. Again, the golden orbs snapped open and he lifted his head, rubbing at the crust in the corners of his eyes. "Mmm? Prestonnn, its early."
"I know it is. Come here." He had a very authoritative tone.

Malo drifted from the sheets, knowing better than to question Preston's tone at this point. He hovered before him, hair sticking up everywhere.
"What's wrong?"
"You've been up to no good again."
Malo's tired lips curved into a smile at the thought. "Good times." He yawned.
"Not so for the people you've been bothering."
"Chores or time out?" he mumbled, defeatedly.
"Well, Malo." Preston sighed. "I had a little chat with some people. And some more people. It went all the way to the Queen." He was lying, but Malo didn't know that, his eyes getting wider and wider.
"I tried to defend you. But they've come to a decision to have you executed."
"EXECUTED?!" Malo squealed, trying to find an escape route. Preston blocked the only way. He had seen the executions. All that blood and laughter...the swish of the executioner's ax and the roll of the head. He grabbed his own neck as Preston grabbed his arm. Tears began to stream down the Litwick's face and he tugged relentlessly, but Preston's grip was un-breaking.

The noctowl pulled his young charge out if the library, tugging him down, down down. He went down the long, spiral staircase and passed the cells and open shackles chock full of prisoners. He went to the smallest, empty prison away from all the other inmates and dropped him off uncerimoniously inside, teeth marks and little burns lining his hand from where Malo had tried to escape. He locked the door and shrugged.
"Maybe I'll come watch. You're due this evening. I tried to warn you not to prank so much. Maybe in your next life, you'll learn."
"NOPRESTONPLEASEI'MSORRYIWON'TEVERPRANKAGAINJUSTGETTHEMTORECONSIDER!PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!"

But Preston was already walking away, his wings shivering a downy feather as he left.

All afternoon, Malo cried. He didn't want to die. He was just an infant. Weren't there rules? He sniffled as the prisoners far off told him to shut up and stop that whining. Through his tiny window, Malo could see the sun setting. He hugged himself and pinched his eyes shut, starting to sweat and shake as feet approached. The executioner, come to take him to the block!

He shuddered as he saw Preston approach. The noctowl was smiling. He unlocked the door.
"Malo." He called. "Come here."
Malo flew to him and hugged him tightly, tears staining the birdman's shirt.
"I-Is it time?!" the litwick asked in a tiny voice.
"Are you upset?"
Malo looked up to Preston with terrified, needy eyes. What a question to ask!
"Y-yes!"
"Do you see how pranks can make people angry, or sad, or scared?"
"Pranks?" Malo asked with a whimper.
"Joke's on you, Malo." Preston smirked, kissing the little one on the head. "That's revenge for all the trouble you've caused me."
"A...Joke?" Malo paused for a long moment.
Preston frowned, hoping he hadn't permanently scarred the little bugger.
Then, the litwick burst out laughing.
"A JOKE! PRESTON, YOU GOT ME!" He laughed, floating. He was in eeery, high spirits again. "Preston's a joker! Preston's a joker!" He snuggled his cheek and giggled. He really thought he was going to die!

"Preston?"
"Yes, Malo?" They were headed back for the stairs.
"Thanks for the great prank idea."
"You pest."

Malo slept easy that night, but a joke this elaborate called for revenge. That was too much payment for Malo's harmless jokes.