The hazy vestiges of Tallsun floated amongst the air, warm, transient, glowing pieces of indulgence and radiance, finite granules of summer, sonnets and sun. Like so many times before, she danced in its flicker and flare, breathed in the whimsical tides and fortunes, the ravenous plumes of blossoms and florets, of petals and stalks, became an ethereal essence, otherworldly entity. Glory, contentment, happiness heightened each waltzing step, each flourished motion, until it became a whirlwind of lone minuets, boleros and sonatas, gleaming, brilliant pieces of eternal vernal tidings. Compassion, tenderness, the dulcet, soft swings of the season caressed each billowing moment within the Threshold; she could not see the basking ire once present, she could not sense the threatening damnation once shifted along shadows, she could not hear the haunting requiems, laments and dirges that once echoed from lonely limbs and boughs. Only the resonance of hymns, of tunes, of arias chanted amongst the breeze, the wind, the air, welcomed newcomers with wafting, cordial ease, beckoned them from the snippets of history that’d brought them along these strange, altering, foreign corridors, that situated them in the hearth of desolation, to be sprung moments thereafter, encouraged to reign in lands of their stature. She, nymph and sylph, came upon the elements of these salutations, created by malice and menace, contorted into finery of elegance, grace and humility, urging others of her disposition, poise, and adornment, to belong.

Lena crossed into the wilderness and breathed in new scents, the warbling, unfamiliar, unknown poems and verses that uttered trebles of everything and nothing all at once, satin sheen of incorporeal wraiths, specters, seraphs and blackguards. Promises laden along roots, soil, earth and strangers, blessed, consecrated, sanctified in a new era, a new regime, a new path to wander, traverse and scout. She chose one in particular to follow, painted her own canvas of trail, brushed and stroked the terrain with the vivid, bright hue of her movements, laced and woven into tight threads of airy distinction, fey, fairy and sprite. It led her to a winding path of forest and glade, and she turned, twisted, amongst the verdant blades, the tickling leaves, the cool, pressing currents, and finally, towards a pool of water, fresh, trickling, vibrant and tenacious. She remembered an earlier trek along the glacial winter, to a world frozen in terror, uncertain futures, and harbored, empty, vacant chills. Yet, now, there was no fog, no haze, no Siberian interludes, nothing but the ever-reaching sun, the glow of prospects, and the expanse of the herd she’d chosen to serve, protect and renew.

Her eyes found the newcomer, embraced by the shoal of entangling waters, once damp, now covered with gathered alms of the forest. From the glowing light of the glade, her honeyed stare watched her for a few scarce moments, studying, seconds in contemplation. He was a dazzling hue, like beams of sunlight and sienna, dampened only by the stream’s light, sinuous touches, seashells adorned, shells clasped in her mane. Were these ornaments of her element, of her personality, of her character? Was she made of waves, of sand, of sirens and nymphs? Curiosity piqued, thoughts rendered were inquisitive, quandaries laden in swirling, swarming tides – but she queried naught. Collecting the information and remaining vague, silent, about it, she inclined closer, molded her frame into the glade, into the wood, into the copse of towering trees and regal, noble strands of tranquility. Imogen, ghosting and trailing behind her, offered her own chirp of welcoming, a brief brew of glee and bliss. Lena's first vocals were composed into a light, taffeta murmur, brief and gentle, a greeting amongst the fray. “Hello!” She paused, tucking her head towards her chest, a respectful nod towards the youth, before returning to her prior position, fostering on with the strong hum of her trilling hymns. A luminescent smile was tucked along her lips, curling them upwards in an enlightened trace of whimsical pixies and unearthly seraphs. “Welcome to Helovia. I’m Lena of the Aurora Basin. Who are you?”