the Wind Dancer

I had been to the Veins before. I remember, taking you here with me, our curious eyes open with wonder. I remember bowing before the shrines, and feeling.. Nothing, in response. Was I a creature of faith, now or in the past? I didn't really know. I felt very alone, moreso than ever before, since your departure. No amount of talking about you, thinking about you, wishing you were here with me, ever truly fills the hole your departure left behind. Even as I embraced my magic, that carried me across the skies of Helovia with relative ease, I still felt hollow, broken, like my life-source was slowly leaking out, being spread out across the lands my camouflaged form passed over.

As I passed over the southern realm, I look to the distance, to the red sands of my former home. A sigh tumbles through my lips, as for the millionth time, I wonder what it would be like to cross the borders, to see who lead there now, to be immersed in its culture once more. I wondered if I would be allowed to return, if someone would oppose my joining, if I would be allowed to take up the training my father wanted me to - healing - or if I would simply decide to follow my heart's true desire, and work my way through the military ranks. I supposed if I truly wanted to join, or rejoin, there, I would have already, and if I had been restricted in what rank I could progress to, I could have proven myself in physical combat.

It was with some surprise that I found myself over the warm, lava-riddled lands of the Veins. It was a strange, beautiful place, unique in that it was always changing, always moving. Others were around, some flying, some crawling - not surprising really, there were plenty who still held faith, plenty who still thought a climb up the treacherous path would reward them with powers that only gods could bestow.. My attention snagged upon a movement more unusual than those ordinary mortals, however. It seemed to surge up from a river of lava, and seeing as I knew of nothing that could survive the heat of molten rock, I was surprised and intrigued, to say the least.

I was reminded of stories of how my grandmother earned her title, FireSlayer. Of how she slew the unicorn overlord, Ignatius, who was made of fire. Of how for months, her wings were so damaged, she was restricted to the ground - torture for a pegasus. But this creature was not made of oranges and reds, but blues, the same blues of the lava around it - a similar blue to the electric cerulean that made up my gaze, a blue that reminded me of the blue flame that danced along your spine and behind your gaze.

I hear its voice just as I recognise the parcel upon its back as an egg.

Respect the soul bonds… honour the spirit tie… The words rock me as much as if someone had swung a bat at my cranium. I land nearby, looking vacantly to the other pegasi present, my glance more of a general sweep, before I land upon the strange, unknown, lava-born soul. My tiara bows to her, my wings fold to my sides, but do not tuck completely - the heat is too great here for that. I do not say anything, for what point is there pleading with something that is just as likely to spit boiling lava at me as it is to listen to my words? Truly, I do not know why I landed, why I bow before this creature.. Perhaps I am only curious to know how others treat these circumstances, whether others feel the same way I did about you.. The same way I still feel about you. Sitka.. Please guide me.

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