Sheltered tightly against his ethereal breast, bathing in the warmth and safety graced by his soils, Africa felt completely overwhelmed, indebted and thankful for all the mercies this God had bestowed upon her. She was a mere babe before him. Dumbfounded and lost as her eyes beheld frantically the beauty emanating- the trickling fire from both his mane, tail and the shimmery quills embellishing his wings; the sheen of his metallic golden cloak, the regal poise of his holy form standing before her. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and so terrifyingly perfect that she began to tremble with exhilaration; humility.

The dwarfed Oracle wanted only to please him and serve him, and this determination alone held her steadfastly upon the rust-red sand by the fire, fuelling the confidence which rose from the depths of her being to answer. Though frail was her heart, and burdened by the mortal world surrounding them, the one-winged mare found strength from his hard, quite proud approach. She shed that feeling of childish desperation, and clothed herself instead with calmness and conviction.

“I will Lord.” The dappled creature vowed, nodding and noting the hint of demand; that he would have her fly once more; full stop.

Africa learned quickly many lessons- that the Sun god observed her kind with a critical, vengeful eye; that he was no tender heart who soothed hurt with blankets of warmth and compassion; he did not sympathise, and perhaps most importantly, he wanted his Diviner whole again. The Oracle wanted more though than to be ‘fixed’ from his perspective, and wondered perhaps if the unsatisfied glint between those bleached lashes might sway to something more contented if she could decorate herself in his element; in fire. That would be a task down the line though; truly, she knew not even where to begin, and to ask for such a prize would defeat the element of surprised approval she wished to attain in the first place.

The Sun God spoke again, and she was delivered suddenly from her thoughts by the confronting tone of his smooth, manipulative voice. Black rimmed ears danced to attendance, attracted atop the tangled mane dressing her poll, and she watched with a broadening stare as he reached beneath the flaming feathers of his wing to pluck a plump leather bag; a satchel- one which could be perfect to transport those treasures she seemed always to find littered across the countryside. As he set it down, Africa saw the feather spill out and reached to pick it up instantly, rolling it between the gentle grasp of her teeth with interest. Gratitude spewed across the warm curl of her tongue as it fondled the feather’s tip, but the God spoke again quickly and she held her silence.

He told her finally, to ‘watch the darkness’, and intrigued, her pale face tilted as she tried in vain to properly understand his meaning. Immediately she thought of the Endless Night, of the smothering darkness and toxic fear which had ripped through all of Helovia in the absence of he, the Sun God, and his siblings. There was no time to ask about the enigmatic statement though, and all at once he erupted in a fiery ball- and she was left to reflect his warning in thickening silence, the dancing flames of the temple lighting the bewilderment sown into her expression; the packed back still slumped by her hooves.

Silas croaked in the tree behind where the Sun God had stood, perhaps in disbelief; certainly more mindful that the fire beneath bore more than just heat and a healthy appetite for his beloved’s bric-a-brac collection.


[My goodness thank you o.O wow!]