On the whole, it was a very good thing that the Sun had not yet set the Edge on fire when Torasin came there.

Cineviam remained a quiet, imposing presence behind the golden stallion, Mauja a solid block in front of him. Poor bloke, he seemed entirely retarded as to how to behave on herd lands, and now that the harsh reality was creeping up on him, he seemed quite unnerved. Mauja smiled, on the outside so soft, yet something vaguely sinister and sharp gleamed along the rims of his irises and lurked in the shadows of his smile, a reflection of winter through a summer pond. Didn't he know only monsters lurked in the shadows, stalking their prey on swift and silent feet? Why should he wish the likes of such to come out..? But in that, at least, he had had some luck. The snowbeast allowed a faint trace of hunger to seep into his gaze as he bored it straight into the golden man's chest. The mocking game he had played for a moment had faded, replaced by a look of near madness, intense, captivating; his ears swiveled atop his head, drinking in the threat in silence. The Sun God, eh? That was one hell of a thing to double-cross Mirage about, and as he listened to the rise and fall of a voice preaching about light and warmth, he felt his grin widened inch by inch into something feral.

He finished it off nicely, weaving the Order master and his fall into the tale. Silence hung heavy upon the air while Mauja waited, feeling the steady rush of blood through his veins. How long would it take, until the golden stallion broke beneath the pressure in the air? How long until his dragon did? Patiently the King watched for signs of tension, the twitching of nerves or nervous flickering of ears and eyes. Who was this stupid little Torasin, lackey of Mirage, who strode into the lands of the Moon and preached about the too-hot sun which burned hotly in the sky? Finally, he broke the stillness with a swishing flick of his tail, pale strands slapping across his flanks. "And what does Mirage have to say about this, Sunlover?" There was something deep and eerie to his voice, the way it slithered through the air like a cold, smothering breath of winter. Glacial and stoic he remained too still again, his tail hanging limp between his hocks, but his gaze bored into the foolish preacher with the same blue intensity. What, indeed, would her mistress say about such a foolish thing?

And Cineviam? His ashes were on the sun, but anyone in their right mind would be pleased with the Sun's actions right now. Without taking his eyes off Torasin, Mauja tried to see what the cinder-beast was up to. If he wanted to do something sneaky from behind... Well. The Frostheart hardly approved of those who worshiped the Sun, or even tried to spread His Glorious Words. Torasin was, after a fashion, free game.