So much had changed, in the lands, the herds, the people - even within Amaris. The dragonmare had grown significantly again, changed from the young, angelic belle she was born as and warped into an insecure, worried maid, before finally accepting herself for everything she was - only to have death, grief and misery rock her world.

Amaris was used to her solitary life - she was not sure in herself whether she longed to have the semblance of family within a herd again, or to just walk the winding, unknown trail of an outcast indefinitely. But then, to have her mother, the queen that birthed her, the shadow who danced with her, torn away from this world, into the next.. It rocked the dragonmare, it chipped away at her usually strong core, her newfound self-respect and confidence, her acceptance of who and what she was - for was she not everything she was, a dragon-equine hybrid, because of her mother?

And now who was she - a dragonmare without a mother, without a home, with an absent sister and father, a cousin whom she loved dearly and never wanted to leave again (but did her cousin even want her around?) - she just was…

Lost.

Alone.

But not necessarily lonely. As time passed, she found bits and pieces of herself. Though depression had left her feeling empty and hollow, she lived her days with her dragonsouls accompanying her always, and so felt and did as they did - most often they were happy, thrilled even at being brought back to the world of the living, and though they were sometimes dampened by the overwhelming sadness that poured off the dragonmare, they did help her see that life went on, even after death - and there was no reason for her to be dead just yet.

So Amaris wandered and explored the new lands that had been carved out of the earth, descending into the caves - she had not been here before. When the Wraiths came (and took her mother into their depths) she had fled the lands upon her wings alongside her father and sister, missing the entire catastrophe that unfolded as darkness descended across the lands. Molten pools viewed the intricate caverns for the first time with wonder and excitement glittering behind them, and with a white soul and a black one accompanying her, she continued on her venture.

She did not see the behemoth at first - though she smelt the remnants of smoke and fire - dragonfire, she knew, for it always smelt different to regular fire. As she rounded the bend in the trail, she saw the glowing ahead, and there beheld a sight that caused her to stop her steps but hold a smile upon her lips.

Another queen, she mused, as she observed the young queen and white dragon climb onto the stallion's broad back. They were young, all of them - though the stallion stood easily taller than her, there was a lankiness about him that spoke of his adolescence. And the dragons, dragons?!, she understood that once again, she had found a steed bonded to two - and another queen no less.

How many are there? she wondered to herself, as she stepped forward with crown dipped low and wings cast slightly out to the sides. A low hum, a purr, a musical greeting that was neither entirely equine nor draconic in origin thrummed from her gullet, even as the spirits who accompanied her today flitted and danced around her, through her legs, around her wings and tiara. They added their own song, their greeting to their living counterparts, in a joyous melody, seeking permission to approach, to meet, to learn and love and live once again.

@Abraham

Amaris