The earth was waking from its deep slumber, at long last.
There had been whispers, whispers of the gods stirring with deep restlessness, and of the sun god's return. Not that Yseulte had known he was gone in the first place. What tangled webs the gods chose to weave was of their own concern, and as long as they left her life in peace then she had no quarrel with them. Instilled deep within her (although she would never admit it, perhaps) was her father's loathing of higher ethereal beings. The idea that someone else could control her life, could strip her of her liberties and freedoms in the blink of the eye, disgusted her greatly.
But they could change lives for the better, too.
She had the Earth God to thank for that. She was about to embark on a quest that would bring her happiness, and bring her light in the dwelling darkness of her heart.
The day was quiet and still—but the Dark Forest was always quiet and still. She hated trees—truly hated them. She could not see the endless sky, could not feel the warmth of the sun on her back. The cool, twisting darkness was much more suited to Zjarri's slinking, stalking ways. But struggling through the wild depths of the tangled woods where dark things slumbered was the only way to Frostbreath Steppe, and she intended to reach the barren ice lands within the next few days.
Nonetheless, her heart was glad when two figures, dappled by wane sunlight that somehow managed to drizzle through the canopy, stood in her path. The Deep Forest was always silent, and Yseulte was thirsty for company. The Edge dwellers were busy and had little time to babysit the new kid, and so Yseulte often took off on her own, exploring the farthest reaches of Helovia. As she approached, the white unicorn captured her attention first because Zjarri and her aunt's skin had been just as pale and flawless—a pristine white that put freshly fallen snow to shame. The mare was beautiful, and Yseulte wondered if she embraced and flaunted her beauty, or if she shunned and despised it as Yseulte did her own.
The dimness of the forest cast the second stranger in a shroud of murky darkness—and she could only trace the outline of a hulking, hairy figure with burning golden eyes. He was most peculiar, but Yseulte had seen far stranger beings dwelling in the magic-infested realm of Liridon—a place where every misfit found a place to fit. Dragon-horses, rainbow-horses, and hybrids of every breed imaginable. But here in Helovia, he was a rare sight indeed. They would have seen her by now, or perhaps he could even smell her. And certainly their jewel-eyed companions would have felt her presence. Yseulte padded forward, her eyes speaking the greeting that her silent lips did not.
In return, there were four pairs of incredibly colored eyes staring at her. A wild, violent kaleidoscope of color—violet, golden, crimson, and blue. She dipped her head to the dragons with a vague smile, her gaze lingering curiously on their bright scales and delicate wings. She was unfamiliar with dragons, though Lace, her appointed mentor, also possessed one. They were a formidable pair, these two strangers. The white mare's gentle expression was clouded with worry and confusion—the stallion's likewise, if not more cold and callous. Yseulte felt the agitation in the air, and wondered at the cause of it.
"Why the long faces?" she managed at last, taking a valiant stab at breaking the ice between strangers.
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