His mother's heartbeat had been his lullaby, and her voice the soothing scripture which flickered in and out of his ears with each passing day he grew. Aithniel's blood spoke in riddles and words beyond his comprehension, yet filled him with light and warmth, understanding and greatness.The tendrils of his heart reaching out to wrap firmly around what glimpses of his mother he could make out and latch onto, cementing and solidifying her exalted and beloved place within the small colt's heart. Even though she could not feel his soft but strong hooves against her swollen and tender belly, as much as he wanted her to feel them. To know that he was very much there, alive and waiting. Each syllable that made it past the walls to resonate within his shell was met by twitches and kicks from the first born son of the second flame. Each one stronger and stronger, waiting with anticipation that she might just hear the minute clicks, until he had huffed within the pearly capsule and pressed his dusty body against it and succumbed to the lengthy wait.

The upheaval was swift, disorientating and tumultuous at best. Buffeted unceremoniously by his egg hitting and sinking within the sands, the boy's vibrant reds had squinted open curiously with a stifled grunt after a moment of being pressed tightly shut against the sudden wave of light — and his tail slapping him squarely in the muzzle in the process. Blinking, whatever was causing the sudden wave of dizzying brightness was quickly shuttered out by silent silhouettes, and his small body stilled. Not even the warmth of a wing could get him to budge.

No words were heard, and though he knew his ma was somewhere outside of this suddenly too small and fragile egg, strongs legs didn't strike out just yet. Instead, his ears flickered and pressed against the soft shell casing to simply listen. Fortunately for his ma, and her companion, he hadn't developed much patience. He had flitted within her womb whenever certain things piqued his mothers interest, restlessly wanting to see what she had seen. What caused her to do this and that? There was only so long the colt could take being pressed against his egg searching for snippets of the outside world before he wanted to be in it. Tiny hind legs engaged as their small hooves chipped and broke away the shell which had kept him safe.

Each kick made the outside world clearer and his little heart hammered within his chest. He could hear voices! surely that was his mother and the other one which was bonded to her! waiting for him to valiantly make his way to her side. He gave one last kick which sent him sprawling into light, red sand instantly clinging to his ashy pelt and skull marked face, the fine hairs of his baby mane and tail bedraggled by the fluid which he'd spent many a day rolling around within with childish glee.

He was wet, dirty but he was alive and breathing. Tyrath's neck twisted as he sought out the voice he had heard as he first began to escape to freedom. His childish inquisitiveness to peer at everything and anything outside of the shell was ignored, the assault of vibrant splashes of colour upon his eyes or the loud bird calls of birdsong heralding him into life momentarily blocked out, he needed to see her, finally have a face to put to the voice which had kept him strong from within.

Pupilless pits of red eventually landing upon the figure of ash and embers, and his body twisted from it's long legged heap to better look at her, forelimbs outstretched already ready to stand. Silently staring up at the angel dressed in the ashes of retribution and justice, his small muzzle finally extended towards her and her griffin with a nickered call, filled with all the strength he could muster from his veins.

"Ma?"