Were Cera someone who fought for himself instead of for others, the anger that was boiling in his chest would have been released. But that was not to be. Cera needed to protect someone in order to fight, he could not bring himself to do it for himself. Even if he was able to, he would break his own heart trying to hurt someone who looked exactly like Midas. So instead he stood there beneath the cold golden gaze of this fake Midas, trying to shut down the connection between his brain and his heart. Maybe if he could do it just for today, the words wouldn't hurt so much. The cold look painted upon his father's loving face wouldn't make his heart feel as if it were shattering. But even this could not keep the anger from flooding him so fast at this imposter's words that he could not keep his mouth shut. He could not allow such blatant disrespect of the Gods to pass this awful man's lips. Large wings spread, stance moving taller and he thanked the fact he was destined to be taller than his father in the future because they were nearly on eye level even now. Stormy look passed over his features, and he no longer looked like the cowed child he had moments ago. "Do not slander the gods! I have met them, they have given me the creatures you see before me. They were the ones that gave my herd's medic the ability to save me from the poisoned horn that gave me this scar. You will never know of their kindness, you foul imitator," he spat, just as foul and completely unlike him.

The realization of what he had just done- that being likely signing his death wish- made him feel sick. Luckily he managed to keep it from showing, though he had no clue how, and prepared himself for what would likely be a brutal death. At the hands of his own father. Yet, he was saved by the arrival of someone else. A mare that was just as familiar, but the look upon her face and the way she walked made it obvious to him that she, too, was not the real Cassiopeia. Though he'd never spoken to her one on one, everyone knew the Oracle. Everyone in the herd usually knew the names of all the higher tiers. "Cassiopeia," he whispered meekly as she walked up. Before she even spoke her first words, he knew this wasn't her, and it hurt all the worse to see familiar faces with such unfamiliar expressions. Surely she wouldn't recognize him either, and so he didn't bother to say anything else. He felt angry, detached, helpless and just as hopeless. Before he heeded her warning he turned dark eyes to the Midas-not-Midas. "I call you father because you are the exact replica of him, down to the collar. But this must be some trick, for this is not your home, and you are not him. Nor are you, lady, the Cassiopeia I know." Disrespect coated his voice, though from any other it would have just been terse. Cera, being the respectful cherub he'd been raised as, would have been horrified had he said this to the real versions of the two. Instead, he took the fake Oracle's advice and turned away from them.

Long legs took him into a fast enough gait with ease, eating away the ground in a way that only those of similar stature could achieve. With a flourish of pale wings he was airborne, rising quickly and forcing his body into speeds he normally would never submit himself to in order to get away from them. Only once he was sure nobody was following him, and that they were far behind, did the tears come. Panic, shock, and hurt balled up in his chest. His course had been for the south, to head home to the real Midas, but after the cruel words spoken to him by the fake one he could not stand the painful thought of it. Instead he banked sharply and rose higher into the clouds, tears clouding his vision and chest heaving with sobs. Surely this was some trick? Fina still seemed angry and ruffled, and he wondered if she sent images of the fake Midas to his father through their bond. Was she telling him even now where Cera was headed? Ilaria remained quiet, trying to soothe him through flashes and bits of emotion from her own mind, but Cera was inconsolable. So he pushed himself at a pace that he would regret later, aiming for only one place and one person.

The Foothills awaited. Cera needed his brother at that moment.