The cavern, though generously proportioned, soon filled with the stale confusion and steaming, sweaty apprehension, and it began quite sickening to breathe. She had explored some moons back, the lower portion of The Sanctuary and took leave eagerly from the writhing mas of bodies, as it seemed to expand still more; swelling with the arrival of countless wanderers from the outside. With more skill than others who had passed into the depths before her, Africa’s hooves clacked confidently against the cold, worn stone path and the sound resonated playfully off the carved walls surrounding. Naturally her eyes were drawn close to those depictions and illustrations which Midas had revealed to be their Helovian ancestors; the Gods also, when still the earth was but a blank canvas. The dappled creature admired the glowing story as she passed, smiling quietly to herself while all else seemed so wearingly grave.

Ahead the dancing illumination of the holy fire acted like a beacon in the murky darkness, and she was drawn to its familiar warmth easily- feeling deeply the presence of her lands patron therein. A strange scent laced the cool, moist underground air, and though it had been nearly a year since last the stench of blood had filled her sensitive nostrils, the smell of it here was unmistakable. The fountain nearby bubbled jovially into the rippling pool beneath, and after indulging in a silent moment of prayer, the Oracle turned towards it. Beyond though, her pale gaze noticed with a start, two stallions loitering by the room’s far wall- one collapsed; the other hovering above. The thrum of their lowered voices competed with the gurgling water; the crackle of the eternal flame, and Africa was forced to step closer to hear what they were saying.

The first voice was filled with concern and compassion, and it spoke of medics and wings. The young mare’s ears fluttered with troubled bemusement and as she wandered forward to offer her assistance to that soul who was unwell, she found to her dismay that Windwalker had been crippled by someone; his wings a tattered, bloody mess- and still more of the crimson liquid drained, pooling below him. Her jaw clenched, masking the panic as it swept into her kindly heart and she felt the strain of loss and bereavement for the second time in almost as many hours. Through glassy eyes she moved from the shadows; Windwalker had declined help and her head began to shake disagreeably.

"Apollo, thank you." She breathed warmly; unhappily, moving to the side of the unfamiliar stallion. "Please, stem the bleeding." Her velvet nose was reached towards the butchered limb closest, the odour revolting; the sight macabre. She could not bear the impact and with eyes closing, trembling lips were sent instead to find the cheek of her broken friend, to caress and nurture while the medic worked. "Don’t restore his wings, respect that wish if you would. My friend is a gentle soul who deserves not to die in this way though." She could not tell what had happened, but Windwalker’s resolute voice seemed to echo through her mind again and again- ‘ Either you help me or I'll break them myself…’

Africa