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

She regarded them with half-glances and the elegant slide of red against their figures before her, not quite arrogant enough to be haughty nor shy enough to be demure. Cera patiently awaited her attention in the silence of the new morning, beneath the colors she had drawn around them like gossamer curtains and the weight of her own importance. He wondered if he was presumptuous, to assume that not only her tongue could bear the weight of Helovian dialect but that she would speak to him at all. Even the Gods had retreated slowly over the years, to their heavenly thrones and celestial duties. Yet Cera had a powerful weapon inside him, one that had slashed against the darkness for years, and it coiled and pulsed inside him as surely as it did on any dark night. A soft, glowing hope. That she would find him worthy, that he may learn from her. Derive wisdom from her grace, her purposeful cleansing and importance in life. 

One must first be a student before they are a teacher, Cera reminded himself peacefully as he gazed at the ruby-eyed avian. Clever eyes finally turned to him as he bowed, his too-big wings sweeping idly across the thin water atop the sands. Even in his age he still appeared to be a child, but he was too secure in himself these days to realize it. He was enraptured by her gaze, the smooth lilt of her voice as it was delivered to him. Static raced across his skin in a shiver of excitement, a wave of benediction delivered from the sharp, predatory curve of her beak. She did not await his answer, her own wings spreading in a glorious display of colors and embers that ghosted their color across the Prince's face. She was far more impressive than he, delivering further questions instead of answers - a habit that reminded him of the Gods and their mysterious rhetorical questions. But Cera had always learned to find his answers from them, and they'd never led him astray. He hoped she would not, either. 

Before the silence could descend upon them, a sign that he should answer, her elegant head turned to face him directly. Cera poised frozen before her, attentive as he awaited the deliverance of whatever she deemed important enough to gaze upon him so fiercely. The clicking of her beak was familiar, the trill of her vocals seeming to promise the music phoenix companions seemed so fond of. Lullabies that had heralded his dreams for many years laying in the throaty purr of her words as they trickled like melting wax and candlelight between he and her. He took a moment to savor her words, so concise they were as they delivered themselves upon his ears. This question was one he was intended to answer, emphasized by the clicking of her claw against the stone beneath her. Cera did not rush into an answer, though the tapping could be taken as a sign of impatience. A hasty method of replying insinuates a hasty mind, Ilaria reminded him primly, though Cera had been thinking it himself. He mulled over it quietly, though his eyes never wandered far from the flame-cloaked creature that sat perched expectantly before him. When he found an answer he found suitable, he hummed softly in his throat and spoke. 

"As a mortal, I can't say for sure," he noted softly, lips smiling and eyes like green velvet with a love that encompassed both she and the light she had brought. "A system cannot work without its essential parts, but it is just as true that without the system, the part has the potential to be rendered useless." Of course you would relate this to crafting, Ilaria scoffed fondly in his head, and Cera's smile only twitched and grew wider beneath the fond scolding. "But you are an independent entity, miss. In your solitude you have your own magnificence, just as the dawn does should it truly not be your task to deliver it, and thus assuming it stands alone." Don't get off topic, warned softly inside his head, and Cera flushed hot across his cheeks in a way that being too close to the phoenix could not explain away. He cleared his throat softly, a bit embarrassed to be delving too deep into a question she may have wanted a simple answer to. 

"You said it may be best to not know. I think it is an exercise of the mind to at least wonder, to turn the possibilities and examine it from every angle. I learned a long time ago that a narrow mind is the greatest flaw to possess." Gazing around pointedly at the vibrant colors streaking across the sky, Cera smiled. "But...I believe it is also the choice of every individual to decide whether they want to know the truth of the magic or not, contemplation of it aside. Knowledge is power, in its own way, but even the strongest mind can crumble beneath power. So knowledge can also be crippling." Like the knowledge of his father's death, or the knowledge that evil existed that still lay scarred across his chest from when a unicorn stallion had tried to kill him when he was a babe. He had not succumbed to it, but he had experienced the darkness of it all, and only his faith had shattered the illusion in the end. 

"My answer holds no weight, it's pure speculation." At least he would forewarn her, aware of the spill of words that were sure to flood off his tongue. Cera always had talked too much when it came to religious topics such as these. Head tilted to regard her, almost the same as she had peered down upon him when he had first arrived before her. He did not give his answer immediately, instead letting his tongue curl around the process of his thoughts before sharing any attempted definitive answer. "I believe every creature of the Sun feels a connection to the light, a desire to be within its embrace. The dawn may therefore bring you to it, as a sort of kinship. But you may bring it as well, for like a flame, the light inside of us spreads outwards when we hold it in our souls. It may not be your godly or magical duty to bring the dawn," Cera made sure to enunciate the distinction, for his answer would not make much sense without it. "But I believe every follower, convert, or daughter -" here he tipped his muzzle towards the phoenix, for even if she was not the direct offspring of his Lord she was still a child of fire and flame, and so he would dub her as such " - of the Sun will unintentionally spread the brightness they harbor, either in flames or soft kindling light. You may very well bring the dawn, in that way. The Lord of the Sun may have even made it your duty, like the system I spoke of earlier. Perhaps he is the head and the echelons continue down, duties distributed across them. In that case, He would bring you into being, and you would in turn bring the dawn."

Answer her, then. Stop talking in circles. Ilaria rolled her eyes fondly at Cera, nudging him along mentally as his thoughts drew to a close. "I know the Lord of the Sun embodies it wholly, and we are merely sundrops that emerge from Him and spread His light on His behalf. With that personal belief, be it fact or fancy, my answer is sure to divert from those of others. For I would say that the dawn is therefore His domain, and you are His child as surely as I believe myself to be. Which would make my answer - the dawn brings you." Pale wings settled against his side, though they twitched and trembled with excitement, wanting to volley this discussion with her freely instead of standing like a pupil before a professor at an examination. Although he was somewhat comforted by the fact that she had asked for his opinion and what he thought on the subject, so his answer could neither be correct nor incorrect. "We may seek to be alongside Him as much as possible, to achieve the same brilliance as He by seeking equality - but unless you are another God, that is not a possibility. The light is His domain, and even if it is your sworn duty to draw it across the world, it would still belong to Him. And if you are His child as well, then regardless of your duty, the dawn will bring you instead of the other way around, for you would merely be a disciple of His teachings." Head bowed in sudden embarrassment, afraid to have insulted her with his faith.


"These claims are all dependent upon my personal faith, which is why my answer is attuned to my intimate beliefs. You may laugh at them freely, for you are surely closer to the gates of godhood than I am. You could even attempt to discredit them by breaking the magic you spoke of earlier, the reason why we should be content not knowing. But my faith has not been shaken, and I could not say what I would think of your answers." And finally even the reverberation of his wings settled, and his smile grew warm and brilliant across his face, like liquid fire. "The truth is, I don't need to know whether you bring the dawn or it brings you. I may want to know, and that is why I initially asked you it, but..." Cera cast his eyes to the rising sun on the horizon, and his smile turned less gleeful, softening into something settled and bone deep. 

"I trust the workings of my Lord. So I do not need to know. If you are acting on His orders, if you are some alternate god...it does not matter much in the way of my faith. My curiosity has no impact on my answer, nor on my belief in Him. And my respect for you would never waver, regardless of the answer or your duties." They were both children beneath the Sun, after all. Cera laughed softly, abashed by his own babbling. "I'm afraid you asked quite the wrong person for their opinion," he noted, eyes glimmering with amusement. "I apologize for speaking so much on such a flexible, inadequate answer. But I appreciate you asking for my opinion." It was not her fault that he could not attribute godhood to her in his mind, which would have led him to saying she brought the dawn. His Lord came first and foremost, and he could put no other God above him, which meant she fell beneath the Sun God's domain and most surely could not bring the dawn on her own without his permission. It was simply an answer derived from his steadfast, burning spirituality. 

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Cera talks way too much and I am so sorry for whoever has to read and respond to this