Was the clock of the world stuck? Did the pendulum cease to swing? Night bore ever onward with no signs of stopping, but she followed the lights. Even in his hatred, she followed his lights, the sun, the brightness and goodness in the world. Ophelia loathed that she felt so aligned with his ways, so in awe of his power, of the purity of white and the glory of the mind that she could not damn his every element and action out of spite. So like a moth to that flame, a slave to the sun, she took her beating and followed path of her hooves to the south. The lamp trees illuminated her way, and she walked confidently through the shadows.
Surely they would have left a message.
The blue lava in the distance churned like a bright, moving light, but the crashing of the ocean below made her heart lurch. She had Tinek show her the way to the land bridge, her cloven hooves hesitantly touching the dusty earth until she reached the rocky island. Ophelia waited for the silver dragon to leap onto her back again before she trotted up the path to the shrines, eager to see what she could find among the wreckage. She let her gait move fluidly, her toes lending her aid as she felt the world around her more palpably than with solid hooves. The glow from the blue lava danced across her white hide and played tricks on her crimson tresses, making them look almost purple.
Tinek chirped, alerting her distracted mind to the presence of another. Ophelia's head lifted sharply on her sloping shoulders and two, pale ears tipped forward. The smell of the veins was overpowering, and she could not make out the stranger's personage. Were this individual of ill intent, she would be easy prey to shove over the edge of the cliffs to her death on the rocky oceans below, but that did not seem to deter her at all. Instead, she let out a soft, gentle call and made the final leap up onto the ledge of the shrines only to see Mauja. How had he fared in the darkness? She had run away after watching the destruction of the world in the meadow, having to make sure Roskuld and Mesec were safe and sound.
Blue flowers glowed over the stone of the shrine, leaving runes that she read with her soul and not her mind. Those words gave her hope. The gods would return, and this night would finally slip into the horizon once more. She swallowed hard, letting Tinek feel the words as she did, and the dragon exhaled a roar of triumph. Ophelia then turned to her friend, the King, and she smiled at him softly. "There is hope," she said, her voice filled with brightness once again. "Are you and yours all right in this night?" she asked kindly. Perhaps her behavior was awkward. She was unsure of how to act when the last time she had seen him she had hid her face in his snowy pelt.
Was there a glass of emotion on his blue eyes? She furrowed her brows, trying to ignore the nagging depressive thoughts that clouded her mind and focus on another.
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[P] I'll take whatever is left of your heart
