From the silk sheathed back of his beloved, the startled Zephyr who was her constant company fluttered, unsettled from the comfortable dip in her back by the fire’s sudden white flare. Small round eyes reflected the burning spectacle with both dislike and discomfort- fire was not a bird’s ally, nor had any length of time passed yet that could mellow his aversion to the sacred flame of his friend. There was a naked tree reaching with gnarled, hopelessly dead limbs into the blackened, star-strewn arc above and that would inevitably become Silas’s roost beyond the playful lick of flames, night after night, as the mare he loved learned to worship, and tend her temple.

Africa too was taken aback, though after the heatless glow which had enveloped her that afternoon during the herd’s most recent meeting, she was not startled. Pale, insecure eyes watched with amazement as the roused fire seemed to transform, to shed its frightening heat and again dissipate. Her long, weighted ears swayed uncertainly through the swollen tangle of grey mane, listening in vain (she couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous) for the burning feature to speak to her- certainly she did not expect that which began to grow from within it.

Quite astonishingly, both Silas whose wary gaze only narrowed further, and Africa witnessed the Diviner’s fire birth a horse; a stallion- a God. The one wing dressing the slim right flank of her barrel fidgeted, the feather’s adorning it ruffling and prickling, as she felt the awe of the situation compel her backwards a step. The strange glare of his white pupil-less eyes provoked her skin to tremble uncontrollably; it was far more disturbing than that of her most trusted Sultan. With dutiful determination smothering the timidness in her heart, she sought their midst, and then the Sun God stepped from his fort of flames; eyes moulting the sheer white so that a far more comfortable liquid gold rimmed pupil was found.

She smiled immediately, awkwardly, because she could think of nothing else to greet him with given the sudden limp nature of her tongue; but that smile faded into something more intimidated the moment he began to speak. The Oracle nodded helplessly, like perhaps a tiny lamb might in the face of an enormous regal lion, completely overwhelmed by the presence before her. “Yes sir...” she blurted swiftly, more officially than anything her casual mind had ever set loose before. Captivated eyes watched unwaveringly his beautiful twice horned face as it turned a dazzling gaze across her; she did not realise right away that which had caused him to lower his great skull reproachfully- by now she was quite used to her own lack of appendage, and spared it no second’s grace.

Her heart did sink though; she felt its terrified murmur in the frog of her hoof.

Without delay she answered, realising how dissatisfactory a one-winged Pegasus probably seemed to a deity so grand and deliciously perfect in every single way- how could he not have noticed before her appointment though?

“Sir, I lost my wing as punishment when I trespassed against the direction of my herd and my leaders. It was a fair price to pay for the prudence now in my mind.” It was maybe only the second time she had spoken of the unfaithfulness (no matter how involuntary it had been), to anyone other than Silas- of course nobody else knew so much about that fateful moment in her history. “May it be a reminder to those with foolish intentions, that treason is a crime.” Although the souvenir taken by those ghoulish Unicorns in the Basin brought terrible disability and revolting disfigurement to the kind-hearted dappled mare, their memory kept her heart and mind all the wiser. One day, Africa would fly again- though not in the form of her ancestors; her kin.

Africa

Sheltered tightly against his ethereal breast, bathing in the warmth and safety graced by his soils, Africa felt completely overwhelmed, indebted and thankful for all the mercies this God had bestowed upon her. She was a mere babe before him. Dumbfounded and lost as her eyes beheld frantically the beauty emanating- the trickling fire from both his mane, tail and the shimmery quills embellishing his wings; the sheen of his metallic golden cloak, the regal poise of his holy form standing before her. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and so terrifyingly perfect that she began to tremble with exhilaration; humility.

The dwarfed Oracle wanted only to please him and serve him, and this determination alone held her steadfastly upon the rust-red sand by the fire, fuelling the confidence which rose from the depths of her being to answer. Though frail was her heart, and burdened by the mortal world surrounding them, the one-winged mare found strength from his hard, quite proud approach. She shed that feeling of childish desperation, and clothed herself instead with calmness and conviction.

“I will Lord.” The dappled creature vowed, nodding and noting the hint of demand; that he would have her fly once more; full stop.

Africa learned quickly many lessons- that the Sun god observed her kind with a critical, vengeful eye; that he was no tender heart who soothed hurt with blankets of warmth and compassion; he did not sympathise, and perhaps most importantly, he wanted his Diviner whole again. The Oracle wanted more though than to be ‘fixed’ from his perspective, and wondered perhaps if the unsatisfied glint between those bleached lashes might sway to something more contented if she could decorate herself in his element; in fire. That would be a task down the line though; truly, she knew not even where to begin, and to ask for such a prize would defeat the element of surprised approval she wished to attain in the first place.

The Sun God spoke again, and she was delivered suddenly from her thoughts by the confronting tone of his smooth, manipulative voice. Black rimmed ears danced to attendance, attracted atop the tangled mane dressing her poll, and she watched with a broadening stare as he reached beneath the flaming feathers of his wing to pluck a plump leather bag; a satchel- one which could be perfect to transport those treasures she seemed always to find littered across the countryside. As he set it down, Africa saw the feather spill out and reached to pick it up instantly, rolling it between the gentle grasp of her teeth with interest. Gratitude spewed across the warm curl of her tongue as it fondled the feather’s tip, but the God spoke again quickly and she held her silence.

He told her finally, to ‘watch the darkness’, and intrigued, her pale face tilted as she tried in vain to properly understand his meaning. Immediately she thought of the Endless Night, of the smothering darkness and toxic fear which had ripped through all of Helovia in the absence of he, the Sun God, and his siblings. There was no time to ask about the enigmatic statement though, and all at once he erupted in a fiery ball- and she was left to reflect his warning in thickening silence, the dancing flames of the temple lighting the bewilderment sown into her expression; the packed back still slumped by her hooves.

Silas croaked in the tree behind where the Sun God had stood, perhaps in disbelief; certainly more mindful that the fire beneath bore more than just heat and a healthy appetite for his beloved’s bric-a-brac collection.


[My goodness thank you o.O wow!]