Cera
_{A hero's worth is measured by his heart}

The Golden Prince was most often found traversing the thick golden sands of the Dragon's Throat, inseparable from the land of his birth and the domain of the Lord he'd sworn himself to. It was resplendent isolation, a familial cage he bound himself to willingly. There were no shackles round his ankles, no bars that he could not bend, shape, or break. Though the world was at his disposal, he'd never felt the need to roam the rolling expanse of Helovia, with its untouched treasures and miles to explore. The weight of the Throat, the responsibility of the land of his family, had never been a burden to him. He'd live his life as a pillar for the Throat, until death or alternative force exiled him. 

Still, he was as prone to flights of fancy as any other. Those realms that had been unveiled were unfamiliar to him, and though there was no looming assignment over his head to patrol the area, he found himself there on the brink of morning nonetheless. The flight had been a long one, hours rolling like water over smooth stones, starlight glittering in a sea of black, the ocean glinting silver beneath him and Ilaria a spot of warmth and love upon his shoulder blades. The wind had embraced him, autumn cool and errant over the waves, and though he had no partiality to land masses of the wilds, he found himself with his heart aimed to the east. The sun-struck mirrored lands where he'd fought on behalf of his Lord against the crocodile god. 

Look, Ilaria breathed into the space between their hearts, a thrummed wire down the line of their connection, and he lifted his emerald eyes to the sun as it began to peek over the horizon. Fina? It came unbidden, a heartbroken plea, a moment of doubt and insecurity. It was like seeing your loved one's face in a stranger passing by, feeling your heart stop and trip inside your chest, familiarity too fast for the slow remembering of grief and reality. Ilaria's paralleled mourning - for it was destined to be eternal, no matter how many years passed - floated up against him, tinged with her desire to comfort and heal. Cera had always suspected it was why she had been gifted with that particular ability. 

Still, the pair were captivated, their grief melting away beneath the splendor and beauty presented to them. The phoenix seemed larger than life, streaking across the sky with pigment etched across her tail feathers, burning the night and replacing it with the crimson and gold of a new day. The Prince tilted his own wings to follow her course, a child blindly following her ethereal light, as surely as his past self had trailed behind Fina. He was like a sunflower, always turning to face the sun, the light, the brightness that warmed and enveloped him like nothing else could. Even in the darkest of nights and blackest of despairs, he had his faith. No creature like she, a blinding comet of power and grace, could ever come from the benediction of any aside his Lord. She embodied his elements, and drew the world's hours across the land like a shimmering curtain of hues. Yet she trailed down in fire and flames and embers, a vortex of burning, dangerous heat. Even in beauty alone, there is power. There is danger. 

Cera dipped beneath the subdued rays of morning she'd brought to fruition, gentling his descent until he touched down in the distance away from her, ripples of water spreading from around his ivory hooves. Was it even a her? Some ambiguous androgynous creature? Was he still so inexplicably tied to the memory of Fina that he could not assume any other would have a different gender? Be careful Cera, Ilaria warned quietly from where she'd shifted to stare over his shoulder at the glimmering creature. Neither of them had forgotten the defeated god from the Flats. Was this another? But surely she would bring destruction instead of beauty, right? But it did not mean she could not potentially be a trespasser. 

Still, the Prince approached slowly, almost reverently. It was wrong of him to see Fina in her, to feast upon her appearance with eyes of avarice if only to fool himself into believing it. He allowed himself this singular sin for just a moment before closing his eyes to rid himself of the notion. Midas was dead, as was Fina.

The phoenix was illuminated in fire, and he prostrated his wings before her in a bow, though his eyes lingered on her form. Careful, always careful. But even he knew how to pay respects, homage to her efforts and the familiarity he saw in her elements. Still, feeling the softness of the silty base beneath him, the water coalescing against his hooves, he could not help tilt his head and regard her quietly. He wanted to ask her whether it bothered her, but her serenity led him to assume that it did not. There was a far more important question lingering on his tongue, anyways. 

"Do you often bring the dawn to us?" He prayed she would be able to answer him, though Cera fondly remembered the Earth Turtle from the Veins. The one who had offered him wisdom, patience, and hope. Perhaps Helovia would play her magical hand once more, reveal to him the meaning behind this encounter. Cera believed the Gods, the fates, would always steer him true. If he was meant to be here, he would not scorn the proffered opportunity. Instead he levied an eager, soft smile at the avian queen, and his own wings softened and clasped at his sides. A hopeful student, to learn of her powers, her spirit. Perhaps some aspects of the Diviner still lay within him, for his pursuit of knowledge was a hungered beast. 

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AHHH I'M SO EXCITED