Aureate pools reflected the happenings, missing very little, absorbing the important facts. The dragon in the trees above watched the situation with eyes that swirled a slow amber-red, a cautious hue, my scales itch, like that time we were in the Marsh, she stated curiously as she observed this strange unicorn. Silence enveloped the charcoal mare, her obedient soldiers standing erect atop her tiara, awaiting a reply from the steed. The scent of him was intriguing, though not in a way that made her want to take a deep breath of it.

His eyes seem to be unseeing, or perhaps hardened of sight, and just before his magic fails a moment, the mare deduces that a veil rests over him, hiding his true form; much like Mirage could hide her true self beneath her shimmering screen, or harden her expression to become unreadable. But then he shifts, his entire self seems to deflate slightly, a break in his defences as bones appear and mane disappears. But it is only for the span of a breath, a breath Mirage realises he rarely, if ever, takes. One of her breaths then, was all it lasted.

He speaks of death, of being dead, and suddenly the dragon’s observation of his state falls into place. She lifts a single brow, the only display of her surprise and curiosity, as her sister spoke words that were awkward, demonstrating that she was surprised also. It was a peculiar thing to note, that neither sister turned to run upon learning of this creature’s affliction. Mirage swivelled her ears, as if the motion rearranged some thoughts within her countenance. A delicate, careful smile crawled over her lips, and her honey-warmed voice made another utterance.

“I asked who you were, sir, not what -unless you consider them to be one and the same?” She was gentle in her chiding play, and despite it all, took a step forward, nearer to him and his striped comrade. As she performed the action, Akaith lightly floated from her perch above to land upon the smooth curvature of her bonded’s rump. Leaning over her side, she attempted to catch the gaze of the feline, tilting her little scaled crown as she did so, chirping a small draconic chirp all the while.

“You are dead and yet you stand, a tiger by your side, appearing to be the opposite of what you say.” The observations she had made were voiced, it seemed like she was merely stating the obvious, but really she was almost confirming with the stallion that this was the case, that her eyes had not lied to her. “Death is not something that can be undone.” The sisters knew, for if it could have been undone, surely their wishes for their parents to return to them would have been answered.

“Your name, steed, so that I might know what to call one who has cheated death.”