Eager for a distraction from her laments, from her dirges and requiems, from the walls closing in on her refinement, on her composure, Lena and Imogen tore away from the peaks and valleys, and turned down the lengthy corridor towards the Threshold. Perhaps because it was a gateway for many futures, she ventured down its wayward schemes and labyrinths many times, ready to present a stalwart, valorous attempt to restore and revitalize her empire, longing and wishing for strangers to have their opportunities and follies. Like a bewitching snare, it captivated and coaxed wavering newcomers from across seas, mountains, fathoms below in enveloping, drenching tides, above skylines that christened and anointed eternal glory, or consigned the temptation of purgatory and infidel hymns. She dove into summer’s reign and remembered how to dance in its heated bliss, in its scandalous raptures and dreamy reveries, ignited by the sun’s whimsical strokes and bright, illuminating beams, studying the minuets and waltzes of the glittering fabric, the sodden veils, casting a molten glow over the terrain. The elegance, the finery, the shades and shadows of ethereal contortions pulsed into her limbs and skimmed lightly along her crown, nestled deep into the raw sentiments of exploration, searching the world for another lost soul, beguiling and alluring her senses to the honorable enterprise of the locked gateways and the hidden paths.

Her eyes fell upon an elder brute, and she instantly had no doubts of his wisdom, his experience, the way wars lifted and shattered the remnants of his livelihood. Scarred (in how many ways?), pricked and pierced by the formations of assaults and sieges, and she could nearly share her knowledge of her own battles, of her own munitions, if she wasn’t so ashamed of her actions and pursuits. Instead of fumbling towards her tangible melancholies, she settled her curiosity and inquiry upon him, and the other, nimble, lithe creature that seemed to follow soon after – what had he seen? What had he heard? What had he fought for? In the name of a kingdom, long since established, still trying to reign supreme over a world daunted by its magnificence? For a monarchy, for a king, for a queen, yearning to establish and stretch the sovereignty of their prowess? For a world tarnished, sullied and ruined, struggling to revitalize amongst the dim of doubt? She voiced none of these questions, but allowed them to simmer in the back of her mind, gaze in wonder and delight, threading and weaving her honeyed eyes towards the two strangers, slowly, gracefully, mold her movements into their sights. The ivory kitsune followed closely behind, twirling in the lighthearted motions Lena fostered and rendered once more; deliverance and sanctuary, salvation and sanctum in the breadth, in the hum, of her strides and canticles. Her voice, harmonious, rapturous, stoked and refined in grandeur, pursued the length of her bow towards each individual, lilted into majestic song. “I’m Lena of the Aurora Basin. Welcome to Helovia.” The bright, incandescent stroke of her smile bloomed, flourished, as she considered each of them. What did they want from this isle of forest and the unknown? “Who are you? Is there something you seek here?” Could she bestow those specious wishes, those hidden aspirations, or would they be left for another to discover and unveil?