Illynx had always been the more innocent of the pair of them, always managing to follow in Psyche's hoofprints and never quite managing to catch up. Of course she had risen to the role that the Dark Empress had once held, for that was as she had always done; and when the first Lady fell from her throne, of course an irreversible clock had started, ticking away the seconds until Illynx, too, would find herself in the mud, outcast from their home and looking for vengeance. She had been Psyche's shadow, a constant presence though never quite equal, even as she became the GildedBlade to everyone else. She was always just Illynx to Psyche.

But as she came around the corner and into the small cavern in which Psyche had settled herself, Illynx was so much more than just a shadow of the jackal's former glory. Warmth blossomed where Illynx's hide touched hers; a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as the golden-laced mare's lips pulled at her banner. She reached out, offering a light nip of greeting to Illynx's shoulder before allowing herself to rest her head, for a moment, on the Lady's back. She had never been one for displays of affection, it was true - but this was a new her, a better Empress, one who understood the importance of love.

The moment passed as Illynx's voice twined through the air and around the shade, who withdrew her maw reluctantly from her friend's hide. "So they will," she agreed quietly, casting a glance overhead. Had she ever watched the lights from the Frozen Arch before? She imagined that it would have to be quite beautiful, the vibrant, lively colors of the sky dancing through the cold blue ice. A small smile, both pleased and nostalgic, crossed her maw. "Those were good times..." she trailed off, preoccupied more with the future than with the past. Had the times been good back then, or had they merely been blinded by their own obsessions? She could no longer remember, and she no longer cared. "There are better times on the horizon, you know. Prettier lights."

Why are you here, Illynx? she wondered, her amber eyes resting not on the ceiling, but on her friend's face, searching for - what? For any sign of weakness, any sign of the exhaustion that she had once felt as Lady of the Basin, a sign that Psyche was not alone in feeling the effects of leadership? Was the Empress worried, or hopeful? If Illynx were leaving, if she were running away as Psyche had done those few moons ago, then they could be together, they could do great things - but the thought died in her mind as it appeared, for she knew that they no longer had the same goals.

What were they to be now, after so much had changed?

"Talk talk talk."
467 words.

OUR GREATEST WEAKNESS LIES IN GIVING UP.

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