like the ocean kissed the sky,
at the most beautiful place under the sun

Vaguely, wistfully, the ocean mare remembers this place—the Veins of the Gods. She had only come to this holy dwelling once before, briefly, not long after her initial arrival to the shores of Helovia (years ago now), and the memories play with her thoughts, dancing like the tendrils of smoke from a fire, murky and not quite within reach. She remembers seeing a deity here—the Goddess, even though her memories serve not to give her recognition now, only shifting hues of purple and black—but even so, there is no mistaking the sense of sacredness that surrounds this stone garden.
 
Carefully, Tiamat presses forward, the click of her cloven hooves against the rock echoing out across the open air. For a moment, white eyes fall from the holy rocks and turn downward. Her father rushes below, a short inlet of his mighty waves beneath the bridge on which she stands, and feeling the whisper of his salty breath against her neck, she can’t help but smile. “Hello, Papa,” she whispers to him, the shells in her hair tinkling against one another, “it’s been too long.” For all her love of the Basin, Tiamat would only wish that her father could be closer—but her parents’ words, in that place between wakefulness and dreams, resonate in her mind.
 
“We will never leave you. We will always be there…”
 
Comforted by their closeness, the blue mare moves forward again, her eyes lifting as she nears the rocky island. “Wow,” Tiamat breathes, white eyes moving from the glowing blue streams to fall first on the four shrines. Her brow knits together at their crumbling state, each of them seemingly abandoned. She knows very little about Helovia’s Gods, curiosity stirring within her breast, questions bubbling to rest silently on her lips before her attention shifts again.
 
There is a small cluster of trees not far from where she stands, the trees large and magnificent in their presence, dominating the rest of the island’s barren rock. Given her growing knowledge of herbs and sprigs from her studies in healing, the ocean mare can only imagine what creatures they must be to thrive in a place like this—what strength they must have. She feels proud to be connected to such brilliant and perennial beings of nature.
 
But—she is not alone. At their base, she sees a stallion, as dark as the trees (she likely would have missed him, had it not been for the splash of gold to catch her eye). Her spirits brightening, Tiamat wanders closer to the stranger. She gives not thought for what dangers he might pose, or what cruelties he might be capable of (so innocent is she from the darkness), and smiles as graciously as ever as the distance between them diminishes. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Her singsong voice trickles through the air like rain trickles over rocks, not unlike the shells in her hair when she comes to rest at his shoulder.
 
“Majestic,” her voice drops to a breath of awe. For a moment, white eyes wander upwards, trailing up the trees’ bark to their branches, laden heavily with their crimson banner—she can’t help but wonder if they would be so decorated in Frostfall as they are in Birdsong. An enigma she intends to figure out one day. Flicking her lion tail out behind her, Tiamat returns her gaze to the black and gold stallion, her smile broadening once more, “My name is Tiamat, I’m a Scourge for the Aurora Basin.” As is customary for her kindly nature, the ocean mare extends a velvety muzzle to him, offering to exchange breaths and touch cheeks in a friendly gesture. It is only normal for her to do so—in her beautiful world, she can’t imagine that he wouldn’t be anything but accepting.


“Speech.”