Only when placed beneath the surprisingly fierce glare of Resplendence did Kaj consume the herbs she had placed before him. It felt wrong, to use them when he felt they could be better off aiding someone aside from him. He wasn't quite sure how else they could collect herbs beneath the ground, if the sprouts would even be able to flourish. It worried him. Lace was still lost somewhere, and despite their disagreements, Kaj worried for him. Lace was a fine stallion, and Kaj wished nothing bad to befall him. He was still family. Kaj would still bleed out for the silver fox. Resplendence had begged and pleaded for him to stay, but he could not. Lead or not, he had a duty to his kin. Kahlua and Lace were still out there somewhere. He could not leave them to the darkness. Despite the dangers of it, he knew if anything compromised him that Destrier would know that the weight would fall to him. In fact, he had parted with a heavy look towards his once-title-brother. He was confident that Destrier knew that if Kaj did not return in a timely fashion, it meant the Edge had to move on and assume he may not return.

It was a risk he was willing to take, if it meant Kahlua and Lace were safe in the Sanctuary once more.

Despite the continued ache of his muscles- luckily far less severe with how Resplendence had bullied him about to rest and had practically shoved herbs down his throat- he stubbornly flew through the twisted black fog beneath him. Few lands were still free, but when he found them he landed and rested, beyond exhausted. Every step drained him, but sheer will drove him forward. Kahlua and Lace would not be abandoned. Over his dead body. Nobody would ever be left behind on his watch. Especially not someone so precious to him as the innocent painted fae with the glass ornaments and big blue eyes. Of course Kaj did not understand much of love or affection, so he could not label the depth of his feelings for her, but they were strong regardless. He would never abandon the pure soul to wander the infected land alone. Kahlua did not belong in such a wicked place.

Having landed but moments ago in the wilting grasses of the Threshold, the Storm Bringer lets his wings fold pathetically against his sides, spine muscles burning and protesting at such a natural movement. Wincing, he shakes out his legs and begins to trek onward, pale azures tired as they sweep the redwoods for signs of life. For anything. But, instead, it finds him first. It is just as startling as an equine stumbling across his path would have been, but there is nothing physical to see. Instead, there is a broken-hearted song that fills the air, and not one he is unfamiliar with. Heart beating double-time, he casts away the discomfort and pain of his muscles, and lurches into an unsteady canter in the direction of the sorrowful voice.

Kaj is hardly majestic or elegant in his mad dash to find Kahlua, especially when he is so fatigued, but this may be his only chance to find her and bring her to safety. Like hell he'll waste it. Stumbling through a dry, prickled bush, he huffs out pained breaths, and looks up to see her dainty form pointed towards the mainland. Away from Helovia. "Kahlua!" he calls out, voice scratched and husky, feeling older than ever before. He hobbles towards her, relief painfully evident on his face, battling alongside affection and gratitude for dominance over his features. Hardly able to lift a wing, he reaches to brush his muzzle against the curve of her neck, should she allow. Her name is a breath on his lips, a thankful prayer to the Gods for having him cross her path, for letting him find her.

"Oh, thank the Gods, Kahlua. You're safe. I've been looking everywhere for you," he murmurs, muscles going into short spasms at random as they try to cramp up. The Storm Bringer could hardly care about that, not when he has Kahlua crying but whole beside him. "Hush, Kahlua. Everything is alright now. The Earth Lord has found us a cure for this sickness, it is within the caves where...where..." Faltering, he trails off, grunting softly as he remembers the pathetic crushing of the demonic stallion's skull beneath his hoof. He had murdered that day, out of love and a desire to shield the two he held such love for from the horrors the stallion had inflicted upon their minds.

"Please, Kahlua, we must hurry. I will accompany you. I only want you safe," he admits, strained and desperate for her to agree. Inside, his emotions are a livewire, and his eyes dart to and fro like a paranoid mouse searching for a hawk. How much time did he have? Would Kahlua trust him, follow him? He could not imagine hurting her, even for her own good, but if he had to carry her over his back the entire way then he would. Damn his own health to the grave and back. There were a hundred stallions like him in the world. There was only one Kahlua.