There is something behind the throne

Quilyan

greater than the king himself.

Hooves connect with the dark steed in the shadows and a feeling of satisfaction invades the prince's cranium. He growls something unintelligible - a threat, or an exaltation, or a curse, he can't even tell anymore - and half-rears again, aiming to slam his hooves so far through the demon that he meets rock. He meets her eyes briefly, pleading with her to return to him, promising her vengeance, but suddenly the darkness is upon him and he twists, convulsing in midair, and the moment is enough that his left side slams into the wall, allowing the stallion to slip free. The rocks are sharper than one would expect, and they pierce his hide in several places. He doesn't notice. Zarina keens her anguish as visions flash through her bonded's mind - flames devour the castle of his birth; his parents' heads are impaled on spikes, a warning to newcomers; Resplendence is sobbing in a throne room that no longer exists, pleading for him to save her, and he cannot move fast enough to save her from a traitor's fate. She hasn't done anything, he wants to scream, Leave her be! The executioner steps forward, and he is struggled through quicksand, and as the magical guillotine rises he is sucked under, and he can't breathe, and he can't save her, and she's gone -

The flashes are over quickly, though, and a low, guttural moan falls from his lips. He has fallen and lies propped against the wall. Blood streams down his left shoulder from a deep cut in his shoulder - luckily, his wing has missed most of the damage, having been lifted out of the way. Instead, his whole left side is a massive bruise, with lacerations criss-crossed along his barrel and haunches. He is dazed, his vision unfocused - he probably hit his head when he ran into the wall so gracefully - and Zarina is screeching in his ear, miraculously uninjured, yelling at him through the bond. UP! she cries. UP! NOW! And he cannot remember why it's so important, but then he sees the shadow slinking along the side of the cave, and he comes to his feet with a roar, staggering a few steps to the side before halting. He shakes his head, trying to get his bearings, and the creature is speaking of fear and pain and him, and he doesn't understand why, but there is another roar and his head whips around (which was a horrible idea that makes the world spin around him) to see the form of Kaj soaring into the fray, and he voices the threat that Quilyan was incapable of.

Kahlua is writhing on the ground, and though he cares for her, she is nothing in comparison to his Lady. He must protect her - he promised to protect her. The key swings against his chest and it is burning, searing into his flesh. No, no, no, no, no, and he cannot tell if he is yelling it or thinking it or whispering it... Screams rend the air and his hair stands on end; for a moment he cannot tell who is who. But then he hears her voice, and she is speaking, and he can't stand it. He will kill the bastard that elicited that anguish from her! "No, Kaj!" she shrieked, sobbing uncontrollably, and his head whips around to the fight - did the great warrior fall? - but there is nothing to get that reaction from her, and then: "Mirage!" It was a scream, long and pained, and then the mare muttered incomprehensibly, something about a quick death. He felt as though he stood beside her as she called out his name, pleading, searching, needing him. Kahlua was the next to bring on a round of insane, maniacal sobs, and then Destrier.

He could bear it no longer. He charged for the black stallion. But then a sound came from her that stopped him in his tracks, whipped his head around, drew him from his battle. "Quil!" she shrieked, and there was so much pain and suffering and loneliness and desperation in it that he ran to her instead, leaving poor Kaj to deal with the beast. She was crying uncontrollably, thrashing about in terror before curling into a ball, pleading for someone to save her, pleading for him to save her, and as he raised his head to stare at the creature at the root of all of this, his violet gaze have a ruthless hatred more intense than anything he had felt in his seven years. He stepped carefully around his Lady, past Kahlua's flailing form, and pushed himself again into a gallop, flattening his auds against the sounds that threatened to pull him back to her side.

"YOU. WILL. DIE."

He flared his wings as he neared the wall, pulling his body nearly vertical as he kicked wildly with all four legs and attempting to buffet his foe with his flapping wings. He aimed for anything that could kill - the throat, the head, the heart. Whether or not he could give a blow that caused that much damage was questionable, but he was damn well going to try. This evil could not defeat him. He would not allow it to take away the one thing in the world he cared about.

He couldn't.

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

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