The diviner looked behind her. There where the Temple she build stood tall with its point framed by a halo of sunshine. But what she also noticed was the straight edges and curves of shadow cast underneath, crawling at her hoofs like demons from the underworld perhaps looking to drag her under into the shadow of what was holy and right. To her it was ironic how detached she felt from both of these… perhaps absurd thoughts while her own feelings of guilt pushed against her hollow-feeling stomach. She felt her gaze cease and scramble; wanting to wander beyond, wandering to what it didn't see. The answers to her questions.

Standing in front of the fire, for once, she wasn’t sure this place was where she would find them.

It was silly, troublesome, stupid for her to think in ways so counterproductive, she was frustrating herself. Her insides had been warm, cozy before. Her eyes had been loving, so badly in love, as they had watched the dancing of the flames, the serenades of crackling whispers and the subtle nudges against the hot air. There was a fine line between the warmth and burn. Religion was a tricky thing. It had become a sort of obsession for her. Something that only an entity so wild and hot as flames could be grown into. Nevertheless the impatience she felt had birthed itself as an unwanted child from the creases of her swollen doubt.

Still, as she watched the Diviners fire, she wished for nothing more than to feel that love again.

The red flames licked the air, her eyes were gold within their reflections and she felt her breathing stagger for a moment as she curled her mane-draped neck to look up at the curling smoke that ate into the heavens. Or perhaps the heavens ate into the smoke. Whichever it was, it was their connection. Her wings lay stretched but still on the warm air underneath them as she called to the God.

"God of the Sun, we wish to request your wisdom on these recent events and guidance for our quest to heal our island." Her voice was a bit stronger than a whisper, with a roughness in it that could have been blamed on lack of sleep among other, more wilder things. (Then again, wild  to Maren could mean anything. Possibly ranging from something as easy as a whole day glancing at the wall of History, to finding a new spot of wild mint to harvest for her tea. Point being; did one ever really know with Maren?)