Ranjiri had left the Throat, taking with her the threads of hope and family Cera had been so desperately clinging to. There is a void in his chest that cannot be filled, and he wonders when he became such a failure that he couldn't even keep his family together. For years he had tried so hard to be the glue, the cement that kept his family close and connected. And time after time he had failed. There was no room left for pain or tears. He had cried himself out long ago, and in a way had become numb to the agony of loneliness and purposelessness.

He has not returned to the Isles since the God of the Earth battled the tigress, but he needs to be there now. Needs to dig his hooves into the earth and recall the soft look in the celestial's eyes as he proclaimed forgiveness. This is where he found his grace, where the world had felt stable once more after so long off-center. Maybe he can achieve that balance again, in this tumultuous sea of loss.

Not many seemed to venture to the new, scoured lands. Whether it was the blood that soaked into the earth or the memory of lives lost, Cera couldn't quite say. He still remembered Snö and her last minutes here, and took a moment to bow his head and mourn the maiden he had only partially known.

Ilaria is a silent companion as he wanders onward, the battle haunting his peripheral vision. Unease settled tensely in his shoulders and limbs. Was the weight of his salvation nothing in the face of all the devastation that had happened that day? Could he ever remember forgiveness and paternal love without the memory being tainted by death?

Cera. There's a filly. Ilaria gently broke into his thoughts, paws a soothing pressure between his folded wings as he soldiered through his recollections. She directed his vision to where the first pale child stood in contrast against the rock and greenery, barely growing into her flight feathers. Cera hesitated, torn between his own paternal instincts and the call of his dark emotions. They seemed to reflect upon the youth's features, anger at the injustice of a world she was only just discovering. Could he even help her, when he could not help himself?

But his worry for her overcame his desire to wallow uselessly, and the painted boy strayed over towards the girl with a soft look on his cherubic features. "Hello, my name is Cera, and this is Ilaria." The red panda peeked over his shoulder with a cheerful chitter, soft tail thumping against the Golden's shoulder. "Can we help you somehow? The tides and winds are very dangerous here, can I help you somewhere?" She could not rightfully escape the island without her wings, not with a body so frail and young. But perhaps Cera could direct her to whatever she sought, and hope she found what he had not.