The light had been gone for more than a season now, Onni could feel it in her bones. Mr. Sorry Sun, where had you run off to? Whispers said something about a void being torn, but even the Void in Isilme had not taken long to overrun the land. The moon's spirit already hung quietly around the night, painting the sky with stars and setting the soul aflight with wind. The earth had come home not long ago, replenishing the world's waters and lush grasses, the singing of birds heard even in the dreary night.

The one the shaman wished to return remained absent. She remained dark.

Time ceased to exist in absence of the Sun, so even if the new lord had returned, his presence was eclipsed by the missing deity, the one closest in the heart of the desert dwellers. As such, the healer had no idea how long it had been. Had she known that fateful day would have been the last to see the sun, Onni surely would have prayed, begged for forgiveness, for reconcile, for acceptance - begged for him to stay. In his absence, she had given in to the temptation of her darker natures, injured another stallion, even if it was in protection of this land. The shaman had seen his comrades fall, even the Lady, but continued on until the light finally peeked its way back into her heart.

Shameful, ugly, the mare had gone to the Veins of the Gods to seek repentance. A friend appeared, much to her delight. A friend, who would have ever thought?

At the moment, Onni stares into the pool of the Oasis, illuminated only by the bright silver moon above. The scar upon her face not yet concealed, but the healer was not sure it would ever disappear entirely. A mark of insolence of violence for her crude behaviors, when she should have stopped when threat ceased. Again and again she dove into battle with the ShadowKing, but why? Drinking softly, Lyhty floating above in the trees, chirping precious melodies, the shaman tries to find peace in the night. It was a task she rarely found came easily.

And then, ever so suddenly, she began to glow.

Head jerking upward, Onni looks at the golden lit reflection of her figure in the oasis, pale sky eyes widened in shock. The wounds which tormented her with constant pain begin to soothe, feeling absent on her skin. Abruptly, the mare jerks her head toward the east, eyes catching on the cyan island in the distance, the Veins of the Gods burning brightly in the night.

There, there it was, a thin line of pink rising above the ocean. Dumbfounded, the mare can do nothing but stare gape-mouthed at the horizon, tears flooding her eyes and pouring out over her cheeks numbly. In her chest, the heart races, her pulse raising, fluttering, but most importantly, the mare smiles. She smiles so honestly and brightly in the light of her own golden appearance for the first time in months. Relief floods her soul, looking out as the sun begins to peak over the horizon, painting the sky with delicate pastel colors the mare had all but forgotten.

Pinks, oranges, yellows, the colors only father sun could create. The sun chases away the stars of the night, the dark purple hues of the Moon, and the shadows in her body. "Welcome home," Onni says proudly toward the sunset. Welcome home at last.