So much was happening at once. When the star girl had regained her memories, sewn together by the tune of The Songbird, everything had come rushing back. Like the crashing gain of a crescendo, all of the pieces had snapped back together in an overwhelming consuming force. When the initial shock had subsided, Ki’irha had felt her soul try to pull itself in a hundred different directions. Should she return home, thunder pouring from her hooves as crossed land and tundra to return to her home in the north? Or should she have driven herself towards the World’s Edge in an attempt to find the Nightwind, tell him she remembered every part of their union, of her desire to have raised their children, beg to join him by his side in any sense of the sentiment to begin where she had left off? Or should she have picked every corner of the world apart, searching under every stone, around every bend of the river, upon every hilltop and within every valley for her beautiful progeny, fall upon her knees and beg them for forgiveness?

But none of that mattered. Not now, because the world itself seemed to be shifting and changing direction, She wasn’t sure what it meant, wasn’t sure how to interpret the rumors that were shared beneath hushed breath and hurried whispers. The most terrifying of them all, the only consistent thread within the conversations, was how it seemed as though the gods had abandoned their post with little warning. The uncertainty of the future made the girl even more weary and frantic, needing to find her past and repair any ties before it was too late.

What had brought her here, she had no idea. Restless sleep had provided little comfort, so she found herself shaking off the murk of sleep and wandering. Dawn had yet to kiss the horizon, and the chill of the season bit at her coat as a reminder that frostfall was fast approaching. She dropped her head to graze, collecting only a small few mouthfuls, before the softest muffled noise above her pulled at her attention.

Silver eyes glancing to the heavens, it was initially difficult to discern what she was looking at. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the soft glow was radiating off of the undersides of wings. She knew two creatures to have that particular attribute, and she felt her heart skip a beat and flutter. A stone in her throat threatened to choke her, and when she was able to swallow down the feeling, she slowly began moving forward.

She considered carefully as she descended into the veins what she would say. If it was Mesec, the conversation would be a warm one, a celebration of remembrance, a step forward towards correcting her wrongs. But if it wasn’t him, if it was the mare who had consumed her dreams and possessed her nightmares, what would she say? How would she begin? But even then, she didn’t even know if it was either of them. How common were glowing wings? Though it seemed to be a familial trait, perhaps it was a stranger altogether, and all of this worry would have been for naught.

She slowly crossed the hardened magma that lined the trails. She tried to settle her nerves, will her racing heart to calm. But as soon as the shrine came into sight, she regretted following. She felt as though she had interrupted something private, something intimate, and she did not belong here.

It was her. It was obvious. Though Ki’irha had never seen her daughter full grown, she knew. In her mind, all she had was the vision of her two foals romping in heaping drifts of snow. Of her daughter, she remembered the wisping white fuzz of her mane, the silver down of her underwings, the speckled frosted galaxies that rolled over her small body, the way everything that stood stark against the black of her body seemed to glow with the pallid light of the moon. She remembered the laughter, the smiles, the joy. Vesper was her starborn. So, though she could be wrong, she could see the way the girl had grown gracefully into who stood before her. She was beautiful. In Ki’irha’s eyes, should could never be anything else. She held back tears, contained herself, urged herself to not bound forward. Who was to say that the girl would even remember her mother? How much had the child remembered? How much had she forgotten? It wouldn’t be a surprise, as Ki’irha had left when the girl was young. What could be expected?

Ears tipped forward as she listened, hearing the girl call out to Grandmother Moon. Grandmother Moon? That didn’t make any sense; she must have misheard. But nothing filled the air around them other than silence, and as the girl leaned forward, Ki’irha swallowed her reservations, quelled the fears, allowed herself to steady her voice and her body. She moved forward carefully, not wanting to startle, but also happy that perhaps the deepness of the night would disguise her. Though her frame was naturally blemished by the darkness of night, the white of her body still reflected the faded starlight, and the vein of diamond settled into her horn glowed softly and nearly sparkled as the inward light was broken apart by the facets.

“Rumors have it that they aren’t here anymore,” she began, voice kind and soft in the silence. “They’re working to protect us from something much greater than we could know. But I’m sure they still hear our prayers.” It was the best she could say, the most reassuring she could be in her approach. She stopped a respectful distance away, not wanting to corner her daughter, unsure if she would be recognized or deemed a stranger.  In a world of uncertainty, the last thing she wanted to do was push the girl away, or disrupt this sacred moment. But all she wanted to do was reach out and touch her, be sure she was real, tell her that she was home, and she would never leave again. But hopefully this was at least a good first step.

Some people have no idea how beautiful the darkness is