When Cera had heard of the missing Throat Key, he had not been worried. The Prince knew of Voodoo and his connection to Ryuu, had met the soft spoken childish stallion himself. Cera held strong faith in the warriors of their land, and he knew that Voodoo would be incapable of keeping the key for himself when the time came where the warriors finally tracked him down. Though it was not a rank he was part of, Cera had still felt a partial possessive quality to the event, if only because the key had been crafted by he and his disciples. It had never been lost on Cera that he was essentially crafting the Throat's greatest weakness, their singular loophole, but it was a task he took up for the sake of his herd and the equality it should rightfully hold. Souls like Ryuu and Sikeax deserved to be in the Throat as much as their feathered brethren after all. There were simply some...inescapable complications that came alongside that. 

The pair had been at the oasis, the night hour far from bothering them. Where there is the sun, there must be the moon, and Cera had finally learned the forgiveness necessary to enjoy Her radiance once more. Ilaria was swimming about in the shallows while Cera's muzzle was nudging its way into the water, drinking his fill and watching her with idle eyes. He had learned of Maren's church, and had vowed to help her once his Lord blessed him with the coming season the ability to craft once more. He and Ranjiri had expended themselves on the multitude of keys that they had created, and wasn't that an ironic thing considering his train of thought?

The sound of rolling sand attracted his attention and the Golden Prince lifted his head, water dripping off his pale muzzle as he turned to face the stallion that approached. He recognized Einarr, for he'd crafted for him and had seen him at various Throat functions and meetings. Wings shifted in deference, head tilting downward in greeting. But what truly caught his attention was the familiar glint of shaped metal between the guardian's teeth. Ah, so Einarr had been the one sent to retrieve it?

Cera turned and approached the dark stallion, an appreciative smile on his face. "You retrieved it," he noted happily. "I had no doubts you would. Voodoo is not a formidable opponent. May I have it so I may distribute it?" It was his job as head Forger after all, but he felt a great surge of relief that it had been returned to its proper place in the end.