Things were moving beautifully, coming together like a jigsaw set beneath hands that had already learned their grooves and places in the grand scheme. At times the king felt like an architect, a craftsman of words and promises that had brought together a tentative house around his family. It required constant upkeep, a worrying hand and a determined mindset to keep it from toppling. Yet they had slowly but surely threaded themselves into the tapestry; a new Edge, one that Kaj often hoped was a better one. It had taken a ridiculous amount of time, and the anxiety had often been nigh crippling for the buckskin brute, but it had been worth it in the end. The Edge was peaceful, calm. Beyond that, it was thriving. Mere moons ago he had attended the birth of Areli, Parelia's daughter. Their scavenger hunt was in full swing, the Edge Games flourishing beneath the joyous attention of the Sunshower and Gentle Heart.

Peace had been hard to attain, at times, but Kaj wore his scars with pride and hoped with every new morn that he would be a leader worthy of his flock's respect and trust. So far, he believed he had proven himself, but there were always new challenges and intricacies to the day. One such had wandered onto his doorstep with a purpose, so perhaps wandering was not an accurate description for how he had come across them. They were respectful, and had he been in the vicinity he would have been a welcoming host. Instead, it was their music that touched his aurals. The familiar dragon song twisted and tied with a voice he knew could no longer be, and their symphony wrung an array of emotions from the pitiful meat of his heart.

He took to wing like a startled pheasant, flying low and fast on heavy wings with his heart like granite in his chest. It hurt to hope, but a piece of him prayed that Mirage and Rishima had genuinely returned, that he could fall to their hooves and tell them how much they meant to him. Apologize. He'd never gotten the chance, all those seasons ago. They'd disappeared without ever hearing how much he loved them, cherished them. And though he knew it was a fool's desire he couldn't resist imagining that their faces would be the one to greet him when he made it to the borders.

Though he had attempted not to fall to the idea of his fantasy, his heart seemed to crack that little bit more when he allowed himself to fall from the skies, an arrow in the side of the mighty eagle as he fell beneath the weight of his own desires. He knew them, and it hurt to see Mirage and Rishima staring back at him from their young faces. He felt old and broken, all triumph of his day shattered by the ghosts he stared down at his borders. One of them had been present when Satanic Silk had propositioned him for his spark magic, and he recalled the pain when he had mistakenly called her by her mother's name. Did she miss Rishima as much as he did?

And Amaris...

Semira had returned to the Edge, and he recalled how she had come to him, how they had embraced and mourned the absence of Vikram and Mirage together. How, caught in his bloodrage against Aurelia, Semira had met him in the skies with a cry of 'uncle'. How it had broken his heart and mended it simultaneously to know that she held such a depth of affection for him. Standing before them, he felt inadequate. Lost.

"Tandavi. Amaris. Welcome to the Edge," it physically hurt him to not slip up and say welcome home. They were not his to tend after any longer, the desert thick and hot on their coats. He turned his eyes to Amaris and smiled faintly. "Your sister is safe, here. I can call her after we are done, perhaps?" It was hard not to just sweep forward and embrace them. He loved them, as he had loved their mothers, and to know he could not was agonizing. "What can I do for you?" Lest he forget they were not there for him and his ghosts.