A great many horses gathered before the Gallant, the Ascended Czar rightfully, and his exquisite hybrid Czarina. Pale eyes watched in humbled quietude as the girth of the meeting swelled beyond her the one-winged mare’s belief. He had quite a following indeed, and she wondered as her focus wandered between the complimentary coloured, winged pair how many of those formed the Asylum – surely after the unfortunate passing of the Necromancer, those faithful to her cause had remained. Africa took a closer look at Ghost, trying wholeheartedly to appear not be staring, and guessed that in fact, she might have been one herself. That’d make sense...

Silas yawned where he rested in the curve of her spine. He was nestled comfortably amongst the sparsely regrown feathers from her tucked wing (neither were sure if the remainder would return).

Don’t you think? She probed persistently at their bond, but the zephyr snapped his beak at her only before turning his glossy, black head beneath his wing to snooze. Since Birdsong had dawned, the zephyr had taken residency in a tall pine by the Secret Pool and he watched the descending, access path from there each night while she slept in her cell.

The dappled mare snorted, but her offence soon waned as the painted stallion began his address- no less bringing her name to light first. Of course Africa squirmed in place, warm flank flinching as it brushed nearer to Rasta’s sleek coat – but she smiled boldly, visibly in response. "Thank you." Flames licked steadily along her crest, poll and down the length of her forehead as she lifted her demure face for the masses to see; but the unlikely gesture was withdrawn quickly soon after and the Starry-Eyed’s warm heart fluttered with wild apprehension. The last time she had been any sort of spectacle was when she stood at the head of the Dragon Throat heard beside Sohalia the Transcended.

Quiet descended in wake of Midas’ first announcement, and the meeting continued like, she thought, any other she had attended in the lands beyond. In fact, it brought memories back of those which she had shared with the Gallant – and Rasta partly too, of times long ago when they had been siblings of the sand together.

It both gladdened and saddened her heart to hear word of the great southern desert, and jaw clenched tightly as she swallowed hard, against the bubble that grew large in her throat.

It’s inevitable, she told Silas grimly, irrespective of his nap; the zephyr groaned without stirring. ... They’ll hear word of my desertion soon. Silk already knows... and bitterness often feeds rumour. Gosh, it will be a feeding frenzy. Glumly she glanced to the blind mare by her side. Truth was a curse that seemed to stalk her life’s path.

Long ears swivelled forward, startled by a new sound – the strange voice of the Czarina whose turn it apparently was to talk. Glassy gaze followed, swimming beyond pity and guilt to find the striking mare where she posed aside the king. Ghost... Midas had mentioned – Africa had been listening on some subliminal level. The Cadaverous spoke of the new Sleuth firstly, alliances, and then the murders which had grazed her thoughts, but never truly raised fitting alarm. She imagined vaguely a line of anonymous faces, blurred identities that she neither knew, nor would mourn.

A heavy breath filled her lungs. The low, grave tone underlining the topic was unsettling. The Starry-Eyed nodded slightly, as though to confirm that she would indeed, and without hesitation, report anything unusual or untoward.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly (although she imagined Midas would think modestly), the Czarina raised word of his Ascension into glory, to immortality and a smile still broader than it had been since her arrival amongst this herd, spread through her expression. The one-winged thought nothing of the mischievousness lurking behind the announcement - perhaps had not noticed; faint affection glossed her eyes, and they were trained upon him exclusively.

Africa