Själ

The girl paused at the Threshold, wondering if she was doing the right thing. What if Mother was on her way home, only to find her daughter gone without a trace? But it had been several months, and still she had not come; and so Själ had set out for that mystical land of Helovia, the empire that her mother might have claimed oh-so-long ago if not for a broken horn and an impoverished soul. The filly had garnered only bits and pieces of her mother's story, for her youth had been filled with the ravings of a madwoman. She had become adept at deciphering the basic meanings, but she could not pretend to know or understand her mother's history.

Time and again, the DarkEmpress (Empress of what, exactly? She had always wanted to ask) had held her close and murmured in her ear: never forget what you are. But what was she? A princess worthy of the land on whose doorstep she now stood? To hear her mother tell it, she was meant for glory and greatness, vengeance on those who had cast the great Queen out. She still didn't know why, but Mother had said so, and despite the filly's reservations regarding the stability of her mother's mental state, she could not help but believe her. After all, a childhood of being told of one's perfection does little to prepare a child to face the real world; and a promised inheritance, however falsely given, serves as a real enough motivation to make one's presence known.

And so, when her mother had not yet returned and the snows had cleared from the ground, the filly had come to find her. She was sure that the Empress could not have fared well on her own (such was the nature of their relationship - the daughter became the caretaker at quite a young age). Besides, she had no father figure to rely on, and it was getting quite lonely, hiding out in the mountains by herself. She had only ever known her mother's company, but at least it was company, and as lonely days turned into lonely weeks, she decided that some kind of interaction was no less than what she deserved.

The heat of Tallsun had come before the young girl found her way to her mother's fabled lost empire, but finally, she had arrived. She stood proudly on the brink of her mother's legacy, and though she had not yet even grown into her legs, she felt as though she were the returning outcast princess, sure to be welcomed as her station demanded. A gentle breeze stirred her forelock, framing her distinctive amber eyes with dark black. Two horns protruded, one atop the other, from her forehead, glittering in the midday sun. They were glass and, in her opinion, much prettier than her mother's. She supposed she had her absentee father to thank for that, if nothing else.

Maybe she would find him, too, after she found her mother.

Maybe she would find answers.

"Talk."