It all comes down to a single moment,



The boy almost wilts beneath the weight of the gaze that meets him, so unused to being put into the spotlight and unable to not notice that the woman is more interested in his mother than she is him. It generally works that way though, he’s taken note of – few appreciate the company of children in this world and it leaves him with a bitter feeling in his stomach that nearly extinguishes the smile on his face. Raised as a true prince, however, he attempts to maintain his façade of nonchalance, though his smile glimmers less brightly and his golden eyes are less focused on the nuances of the woman than they had been.

She is no different than mother, or the others.

She still smiles, however, and the boy feels his own returning to its former vivacity. While the black skinned woman talks, Rikyn hears a few things that he recalls from his lessons on the history of his home, including the name of his aunt – he had never met her. As far as he was concerned until this point, the Empress had been an illusion his momma held inside her head, a ghost of herself that was somehow better than she was. It was the only explanation as to why an adult would fawn over another so excessively, that she felt the other woman could offer more than she could, but Rikyn didn’t see the sense in it all. Psyche had lost her home. His mother still ruled it.

Why admire someone who was obviously weaker than herself?

He glances over to his mother as Chernobyl does, seeing the smile of gleeful recognition that always races across her face at the mention of her sister, a subtle nod of approval given to the dark mare as her son returns his features to continue the task his mother has given him. "There are other places to go," he says, his smile gaining a deviousness that nearly makes his dam swoon at the cuteness of it all, "but none as worthy as the Aurora Basin, unless you like living in ordinary forests or blazing deserts." His words include no hint of the racism that his mother attempts to teach him, forgotten under the comforting bond he held with Aithniel, a girl who broke all the rules his mother wanted to teach him. As time passed, he understood more and more why his dam had not wanted the girl. It had ruined her lessons with her only true son.

"I am Rikyn," he says, still smiles and youthful brightness, his dam smiling coyly in the outskirts as she nods hello in accordance to the mare’s name. Chernobyl, yes, that is what she had been called – and a scholar! Zikar-Sin would be pleased to know he had disciples to guide. "Let it be so!" he exclaims as the woman makes clear that they are going to go home together, the boy filling to the brim with pride that he had successfully completed the task his mother had given him and his mother quietly sighing to herself that he had been so fortunate as to find one of their own in the borders.

”The Lady Psyche is no longer upon the mountain,” Illynx explains as they trot along, her son quietly humming to himself as he moves alongside them and listens to the tale he’s heard at least seven times, ”nor is the Frostheart. They departed several years past, though both are well as I know, simply leading their own paths. Psyche is still a dear friend of the Basin, of course, but I have taken her former position and lead alongside Deimos, the Reaper.” Occasionally glancing over with bright smiles lacing her lips, she further elaborates on what might have changed since Chernobyl last walked upon the proud snows of the north. ”Our Haruspex is the wild eyed Zikar-Sin, if you are still interested in such a path,” she explains, ”the old man who kept it during your era on the mountain is long since gone, and few still hold the ranks they once did. D’Artagnan is perhaps the only who remains as he always was.”