The sun sinks below the horizon, leaving heavy orange rays filtering over the landscape in the dying hours of the light.  The thinning grasses of the south retain an emerald sheen in the burning sun, not quite touched by the punishing hand of summer.  Walking through the grasslands, a delicate porcelain doll.  The shadow beside her grows long in the rays of the sunset, dancing amid the swaying of the grass.

Zyanya travels once again from the Aurora Basin in search of answers to questions she never realized existed.  The heat of the south sat uneasily on her coat now, having grown accustomed to the thin chill of the northern air.  Something remained comforting about the warm embrace of the sun, reflected in the pale gold of her back, giving way to the cool ice of her legs.  Perhaps, a memory of her former home; the memory of flesh upon her skin; the memory of sweetly spoken words of your beloved family.  She did not know for certain.

Her quest to learn of Helovia remained prominent in her life, however, determined to make something of herself in this life.  The will to become more than a wallflower, decorating ornate halls and being the glimmer in some stallion's smile.  The will to be worthy of her place in the Aurora Basin.  Something to cling to in this new life.  Much like Thranduil said, she simply needed to dive into the deep end to find it.  Here she was, staring into the Heart of the realm, her eyes fixed upon the burning fires and the dark chasm of a cave on its side.  A slender path leads from the grassland toward this cave, and the heartbeat in her chest begins to pound.

She walks along the path, hooves slip, and downward she falls into the burning embers below.  Her flesh burns away, her organs fade to ash, leaving pearly bones that crack under the heat until she is nothing more than dust in the wind.
An image that runs prominent in her mind as she hesitates at the top of the path, eyeing the flames with caution and fear.

You worry too much, darling, the glint of a smirk replays in her mind's eye.  Timidly, a hoof takes a step, followed quickly by a flurry of others.  Nearly at a sprint, she makes it to the mouth of a cave, only to slide to an almost immediate halt once in the darkness of its maw.  Much to her surprised delight, the cave is not very dark.

Flames of molten lava slide down the side of an encasing crystal of sorts, unable to ooze into the floors of the cave.  The dripping of water echoes over the walls, spires spin from the ceiling, reminding her of the tall towers of the castles back home, only reversed.  The light in the caves undulates from the lava pouring down, creating the sense of movement in a still environment.  After taking a moment to gather herself, Zyanya begins walking once more, exploring the large room hidden below the earth.

Strange, definitely strange, but what in Helovia was not?

""

ooc -- sorry it's kind of crappy :(

We've made a fool out of love, when all we want is to be enough
when all we want is to feel enough