It had been too long.

She remembered. She remembered the days when accomplishing her goals had come so easily. She remembered the days when she had allies, strong allies. She remembered Mauja the FrostHeart, so close an ally that he had sowed his seed and she had birthed their daughter. She remembered D'Artagnan the Nightshade, a talented doctor with an irreplaceable knowledge of Helovia's poisons. She remembered his lover, Kou, a gentle creature, but nonetheless devoted to their cause. So many faces, so many names, so many followers. They had all followed her. And she had left them, she had let them down. Well, no more. She had returned and, though she had yet to see them all, she had been busy. She had been gathering recruits, she had been planning assaults, she had done more than she had ever done. It was time for them to see her, know her, remember her. It was time for her to prove her leadership.

She had sought them out, many of them, sharing a quick whisper of a meeting deep in the catacombs of the Frozen Arch. It could have been held on the Steppe, in the open air with miles to see all around. But as easy as it would be to see an eavesdropper or an intruder, it would be easier still to spot a gathering of unicorns, all tied by the strength of their racism. Anyone who saw them would talk, and all of Helovia would see their tyranny coming from a mile away, and would guard against them. No, much better to hide within the caverns, speak in hushed voices, arrive one at a time, leave singularly or in pairs. This way, no one would know, and their secret would remain.

The shadow-mare had arrived in silence, her dark pelt blending better with the deep blue of the ice than it did with the stark white snow. The caves were eerie, she would admit that. Her reflection in the ice was stretched into gaunt shapes, then forced into squat, ugly forms, all in the matter of seconds, as thought she were constantly changing. It was enough to make someone of a weaker constitution sick. But she simply regarded the mirage with amusement, a cool smile on her maw. She melted easily into the shadows content to watch and wait. Her memory ranged over her band of followers as she considered their reactions to the caverns. Some, perhaps, would find the spectacle as amusing as she; others would find it disturbing. A mental shrug. The ease with which she would regard them would prove her stronger than they. As long as they showed, she had no real care for their emotions on the matter.

[W/C | 455]