Why couldn't they see? Why couldn't they understand?

If the Gods of Helovia left forever, if they became no more, then Helovia itself was no more, and that meant -

that meant she would be no more.

Helovia was all she had left. She had left Helovia before, numerous times now, and every time something had gone wrong, and the only way to fix it she had had to return.

Idly, she wondered if Helovia's ceasing-to-exist would mean something different, if it wouldn't ruin her, destroy her and her companion, her beloved king, her Dramyrth. The last time she had taken him away from here, they had both been affected - he could not live without Helovia, and she could not live without him.

We will endure, came the reassuring tones in her mind, seeking to dispel the paranoia that was replacing the vacant numbness within her. Together, we will endure what is to come, his voice, so strangely musical within her own mind forced her to pay attention to it, to believe it, and she wanted to, she wanted to believe all of them, to understand what they were saying, but how could she when they couldn't see -

We will endure.

How can you be so sure?

We will.

Okay.

The tears finally seemed to stop, though their dampness still lingered about her cheekbones and face, as she blinked her puffy eyes dry and refocussed (for the umpteenth time) on the two who stood with her.

Mauja looked at her with something she couldn't define, something that was both weary and concerned, like he wanted to do more but he could only offer that look, that stare with his icy gaze and stoic visage. And she clung to it, as long as she could, matching it with her golden eyes, and tried to discern what it all meant (and failed hopelessly at that too).

And then Yael, beautiful, wise, stoic little Yael, who reminded her so of her mother, if not only for the dragon within the lady, but also the passion, the determined way in which she lived, as she spoke her pointed words and declared her thoughts with as much sharpness as words alone could. And Amaris heard the words, and wanted to feel what it was she meant to - a sense of waking up, of coming out of a great numbing slumber, a tidal wave of realisation, but she couldn't, she didn't know what she felt, and it frustrated her to the point of anger.

Of rage.

Something hot lit itself within her, something bright and scorching, something that wasn't normally there but very occasionally rose. Yael had called to the dragon within the mare, and that dragon had risen. Mauja spoke his words, and when the moment passed Amaris would surely understand the significance of them (immortality blessed upon one by the Moon Goddess herself was something worth mulling over, she knew on some subconscious level), but it was those he directed at the dragonmare herself that truly accomplished that which Yael's words had begun to do but didn't quite complete.

It wasn't a tidal wave that washed through her, but a wildfire, an inferno of white-hot anger, of rage, at herself for being so pathetic, Kaos for existing, at the Gods for creating Helovia the way they had, at the Gods again for abandoning them all and leaving them in ruin, at Dramyrth for not being able to exist beyond Helovia (to the best of her knowledge), at the two who stood beside her simply for being there.

Ears slicked back in one smooth motion, and the dragonmare immediately appeared more dragon than mare. Eyes flashed at them both, as she took deep, steadying breaths, willing herself not to accidentally summon a spirit and instruct said spirit to turn them into ashes while she watched without feeling.

Amaris was returning to herself, which also meant she was starting to deal with the flood of thoughts that were crippling her before.

But the inferno scorched through the floodwaters, evaporating them with a single thought: We will endure.

A defiant, almost challenging stare glanced at the others, as some semblance of normalcy returned to the posture of the dragonmare. She shuffled and shook herself, as if ridding her body of long-settled dust and dirt, and stomped a hindleg almost with what could be called impatience.

"Do not apologise," she spoke, her tones still quiet, but much more Amaris than before - steadier, with her gentle lilt colouring them. And she peered at Yael, remembering things her fogged brain could not recall sooner, finally sorting through the mess that was her thought patterns - she wasn't all the way herself again (she didn't know if that was even possible), but as she stared at the little golden mare, she remembered the way she had read the words given to them by Kaos, the way the Moon Goddess had promoted her for holding such a skill. She wondered at how the little pegasus felt, at whether she carried any emotional baggage over it, and just handled it all better than Amaris.

"You're right," she admitted then, lifting her ears from her neck as she then responded to Mauja's words, nodding almost sheepishly, feeling a sense of foolishness replace the flashfire of anger that had filled her mere moments ago, as her thoughts churned and shifted through all that had happened and tried to make sense of any of it. The Gods and Goddess of Helovia were no longer worthy of devotion or admiration, of worship and love, for how many times had they made mistakes which had resulted in the death and destruction of Helovians and the mortals they loved? How many times had their actions lead to disaster, to drought, or eternal midnight, or wraiths trying to consume them all?

And yet, without the Gods, none of them would be here.

"Helovia will fall, I think," she said, still soft, for there was no need to shout that which did terrify her. She swallowed, as if to prepare herself for her next words, which were delivered with slightly stronger tones, as she attempted to sound determined, reassured, but undoubtedly they would be able to tell she only just barely believed it, clung to it - she was almost there, so close, she just needed them to hear her say it:

"We can survive that."

Amaris