A mist, thick and shimmering like a blanket begins to fill the space. Moonlight dances upon the fog as it embraces the pair, guiding them up the steps to the shrine where the silvery clouds begin to take shape. The figure, feminine and lithe, is without a doubt the Goddess of the Moon, beautiful and frightful for she holds the magic of all things wicked and cruel. She is a stunning blasphemy, a creature too perfect to be the ruler of such darkness. And yes, she rules it well, perhaps because of a darkness on her own soul, but none can see it; she keeps everything well hidden behind a layer of honey-sweet words and delicate touches.
Blood was a satisfying scent on the young colt whom she blinded not so long ago, and he had grown into a handsome specimen. Perhaps she would have more use for him yet, and she took her final shape, the deep lavender of her pelt and the silver of her hair solidifying. She approached with an alluring step that was too natural to be gaudy, but it was bordering on that line. The Goddess stopped, mere breaths away from the boy.
"You desire power in those who have passed before you," she murmured quietly. "Why?" She was always curious about the reasons of mortals, for it often gave her clues into how to grant the magic they desired.
"Hm... I accept this request to take on the shapes of your forefathers, but in return, you must do something for me." She spoke this words most naturally, but what the Goddess requested was not normally a walk in the Thistle Meadow. "Go now and fetch me a bone from your father's body. I know you know where you left it..." she trailed, a smirk on her lips. "Then, go to Mandrake. Have her claws etch the bone in her other form."
"Return to be when this is done."
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Ancestral Body [[Goddess of the Moon]]
