When the ebony she wolf had heard the news of her Heavenly Father being exiled to the Frostbreath Steppe, her heart sank. For many days and nights, she has been a prisoner of the World’s Edge, ever since she had luck setting the place aflame. A smile still creeps upon her maw when she thinks about it, but she will not have any of the infidels see. Like a true warrioress, her black hide has been decorated by fresh scars, received on the night she painted the night sky with orange destruction. The colder weather has rendered her fur somewhat less shiny as it has grown out to protect her bony figure, but when caught under the sparse sunlight, she still shimmered like the blackest tar. Long, disheveled tresses wrap around her nape like a ragged shawl, but they are poor relief for the cold that seems to gain strength for every day. Keahi knows that it must be a stroke of madness that makes her come here, to the Steppe, to seek out her Lord of Light. With the invasion in the Edge, she has used the disturbances as a cover for her escape; whoever thought to look out for a prisoner when their home had turned into a battlefield? Again that silky smile that she is so known for, but this time turned into a grimace as the first snow starts to fall, settling upon her back daintily before melting away. Only she does not know it will be much, much worse.

By the time she came within view of the gathering, there is absolutely nothing dainty about the snow anymore, now turned into a full-fledged blizzard. Snow is whirled up in front of her, at times seeming to consume her and turn heaven and earth into one. She knows that she can easily get lost, but when she spots the golden light ahead, she knows her course is right. The icy winds are howling through marrow and bone, feeling much like the times when she has had her blood frozen by that heathen Mauja. Her teeth are clenched tight, crystals forming on her back and in her tresses, glistening in the sparse light that grows as she moves closer. The banshee sees that she is not the first to find the light and warmth of her Father comforting; others have gathered as well, though they are merely children in her comparison. One is a Pegasus, a youngling that she does not recognize nor spend much energy on. Then there is a bicolored lass about the same age as the first, plain equine and not too memorable, Keahi finds. The cold isn’t exactly helping with her friendliness, so she merely skims the appearance of a silver tinged brown mare, slightly older but not by much, before moving her sights to a pair of colts, twins by the looks of it, that look way too young to be wandering around on their own. Well, who is she to judge; the whelps aren’t her problem, thank god.

Speaking of which, there he is in all his might, the Lord of Light, father of all living things. But, he is somewhat reduced, his grandeur not as impressive as it had been when she had seen him in the Vein of the Gods. Regardless, with his flaming body, he is still an overwhelming presence that she is instantly humbled by. The flames on his body reflect in her emerald orbs as she steps closer stiffly, kneeling in the cold snow before him to show her respects to his divine self. “Father, I have heard of your misfortune. It breaks my heart, that I shall have to face the toilsome winter without your glorious protection,” she speaks, her voice silky smooth, eyes not moving from his form for one second. “I have done as you asked. I burned them, I set the moon bitch’s land aflame, and I paid for it with blood. And they trembled,” she said with a smile creeping upon her silken maw. Everything else has faded away; she only sees his glory and feels his warmth kiss her face tenderly in the midst of the ice and frost that is roaring around them. If he was ever in doubt about her devotion, surely that would be put to death by now.