Myrddin listened was a bemused interest as the shell-shocked Mauja gradually begin to submerge from whatever foggy haze was clouding his mind.

Was this the real Mauja, the philosopher wondered, as the boy-king collected his thoughts. Myrddin hadn't known precisely what had happened to their king - merely that he had disappeared. He had assumed that the universe had simply swallowed him up - wanting his grace and majesty for itself. He had imagined Mauja evaporating into small particles of light and air - moving along the wavelengths of the timestream. It made sense, that Mauja's disappearance had something to do with the emerging God of the Spark, as he had emerged around the time of Mauja's removal from Helovia. But if Mauja had been hurtled through the streams of time, had he emerged the same? Not for the first time, the old stag wished to have his sight - even though he was unsure if the new sight the Goddess of the Moon promised him would in fact reveal the sort of details he was craving to know. Had Mauja aged? Did he retain the same knowledge he did before? Did he have more? Jealously, the philosopher pondered these questions. To have had the opportunity to wade in the steams of time; to stand where they converge and look down their winding paths to what lay ahead and what lay behind, in all directions...

Myrddin...sir? Came the soft inquiry of Zikar-Sin. The old man had a soft spot for this one - he showed tremendous amounts of philosophical insight for one so young, and his manner was pleasing to be around. He was thoughtful, and complacent - or had been, now he simply sounded lost and dazed. Scenting the air, Myr tried to place where each of them stood in relation to himself. The rocky cave in which they all stood smelled of stale water and growing plant life, and in it hung each of their individual scents. Even so, Myr was having a hard time distinguishing where each of them stood. Stretching his muzzle out, he reached nothing but air. Frowning, he grunted; he was unable to physically re-assure the boy of Mauja's arrival.

If Mauja was truly back, then there would be much discussion...would he and Pysche rule together? Would there be a re-structuring of the herd? Did the frost-king share the same exclusive views that their dark leading lady did? With a cough that sounded as though Myr's very lungs were going to come through his mouth, the old white stag turned away from the boy-king and his broken mirror. "Give the boy some space!" He mumbled to the crowd, though he was speaking to everyone except Psyche. The very young voice he heard did not belong here, and although the mare who spoke behind him sounded as though she and Mauja were familiar, this did not appear to be the time for catching up. Mauja would have much debriefing to do, and much of it concerned Psyche, and Pysche alone. Similarly with Sin and Larkspur; their place for now, was not here.

As Myrddin moved to exit the cave, he threw a wayward glance over his shoulder - as if that did him any good. "We will speak of my mirror later, young Mauja." He called affectionately, wanting to speak with the frost-king just as much as the rest of them. Myrddin no doubt, was better at being patient than they were.

To go on is to go through.
At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.