Själ

There was something of a promise lingering in the air between the two dark souls, but a promise to whom?

They had each sworn something to the other, of course, but it was more than that:  their silent vows and secret oaths were with the land itself, the icy tundra that encased them and protected them from everything that lingered outside.  Their promises were to their ancestors, to ancient kings and queens who had ruled everywhere but here.  I will be more than this, they screamed, desperately grasping, clawing their way into history in an effort to earn their place alongside her mother and his father, never even really knowing exactly what that meant.

But that was what it meant to follow in a parent's footsteps, wasn't it?  The inner workings of Psyche the DarkEmpress had never been hers to know, but it hadn't stopped her from yearning to stand atop the pedestal that the queen had made just for her.

Själ would never be a dark empress, would never be an ice queen in the way that her mother before her had been.  She was too warm, too open, too trusting in a way that Psyche had never been.  And she would never know that, because she had never known the cunning wiles of the Basin's Lady, had never witnessed the sly machinations of a despot on an war path, had never been granted access to the tyrant's innermost desires.  (Kill them all, the filthy creatures, unclean with their barren brows and strange appendages -)

What she didn't know would never hurt her, and she strove instead for something more.  She would be something worthy of admiring, someone to follow not simply out of fear, but out of adoration.  But above all (and this was important, for it defined the driving force behind the girl even now), she would be a protector of those who needed it, of the weak and the strong, of the big and the small.  No more would she stand idly by and watch those she loved perish - never again would she linger outside the walls, only to come in and realize that her world had been left in tatters, her family gone (again, never again).

So even as the bite on her rump continued to twinge unpleasantly, she drew further away from Erebos until she was finally able to twirl around and face the dark prince (or, rather, where she thought he'd last been).  It took her a moment, her breath clouding the air in sharp, misty puffs, to local the stallion, who was coming towards her again, this time from her left.  It was too late by then to turn towards him, however intent she might have been on facing the threat head-on.  Erebos lunged for a bite on her shoulder; Själ twisted to her right in a successful attempt to avoid his bruising teeth.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten about his companion.  The kitsune's teeth, brutal and angry, sliced through the thin layer of flesh covering her left hind cannon.  A shriek of pain and rage split the night air - she hadn't expected  companion to join the fight, or she would have called Ansgar back sooner - as she skipped further to the right, trying to move sideways and forwards at the same time.  The princess was suddenly aware of the hot springs on her side, and irritation hissed through her teeth as she realized she was pinned down at the water's edge.  Worse, no matter what she did, her left hind would continue to bleed steadily, aching and gushing with the increased pressure of each step.

Well, you know what they say - if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Ansgar could be sneaky, too.

The griffin, who had felt the battle begin, arrived on silent wings above.  She circled to get her bearings, trying to use the scant light from the aurora and the stars to pinpoint her target.  Once settled on a route of attack, the creature dropped into a dive, attempting to remain as stealthy as possible, trying to latch her darkness-covered, strength-draining talons into the stallion's shoulders.  Själ, moving as quickly as her injured leg would allow (and hoping that Erebos's injuries would leave them on equal footing in regards to speed), attempted to distract her opponent by turning the ninety degrees towards his dark shape and lunging towards the front of his right shoulder, teeth bared.  If he didn't move, she would try to bite his shoulder in approximately the same place she had kicked earlier as Ansgar attempted to sneak in an attack from above.

"Talk."
--Ansgar.--

[3/3.  771 words.]