There is something behind the throne

Quilyan

greater than the king himself.

She smiles up at him and responds so well to his teasing that he fears she has knocked her head as a result of her impromptu descent, but his concern is erased by the blossom of warmth that bubbles up in his chest. Her smile is blindingly beautiful, and he realizes that this is perhaps the first true happiness he has seen on her features, however dim or short lived it might be. It is an important moment, one he knows he will treasure, and he merely offers his own grin in return. He has arrived on the floor of the case, and he bumps his muzzle gently against Resplendence's shoulder in greeting before turning his attention to an extraction plan. The crevice is rather wide, and he thinks he sees a possible route somewhere off to their left, but he will need to move closer to be sure.

So enveloped is he in his quest that he does not realize at first when the very air around him turns cold. A darkness tugs at his mind, and for a moment he imagines he can see the crowds and flames of the anarchists who had burned his home to the ground, but it passes quickly. He shudders, but continues his search, sure that it is only the dark, damp cavern that has caused his unease. A moment passes in tense silence.

Zarina screeches from his withers, and he realizes that there is something very close to panic flowing through their bond; Kahlua's frantic vocals join the racket almost immediately in a language he does not understand. He whirls in time to see the slack on his princess's maw, the terror in her glazed orbs, and then she, too, begins to scream. The anguish and fear in her voice almost breaks him as he stares at her in horror, unable to help, unable to save her, unable to protect her. He is small, insignificant, useless - just as he was during the sack of his family's reign, just as he was during the invasion of his new herdland. He is nothing.

Zarina calls him through the bond and directs his sight to the creature in the shadows. The pair of them are spared the mental torment that has taken the mares, and as such he takes it upon himself to stop their torture. He cannot bear to see it, to hear it, but somehow he understands that it feeds the stallion in the dark. Fire bursts in his breast as he is filled with anger; a furious roar explodes from his throat as he half-rears, launching himself forward into a gallop. Hs hooves echo eerily in the darkness, but it is lost in the various shrieks. Even they seem dim in comparison to his battle cry. Hs wings are pulled tight to his side, aiming to make himself a small, dense ball that will crash into the shadow-steed, hopefully releasing the girls from its grip.

[W/C | ---]
Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.

RayoDeSoleil | VenomXBaby | NewdyStock | BurtN | SimplyBackgrounds