Faintly, it seemed, the wind called her name.

She lifted her head and ears from her grazing alongside the still lake, eyes narrowing as she peers around her for the source of the sound; at first, she doesn’t see anything but the great bronze beast Ulrik has made, and he is still and lifeless, a good sign that there is nothing amiss that she should worry to deeply upon. She almost turns back to her grass when the call of a griffon or eagle strikes her ears, too soon after the wind calling to her to be only coincidence, and it draws her towards the gateway of their land on limbs that flash in the speed of her even lope.

Approaching the pathway and cresting the hills that had obscured her view, she pauses and gapes in horror at the sight that befalls her; against the fresh shoots of spring lies Arah, a sight she has seen once before while fighting the lightning dragon, but this time there is no Lena rushing to her aide, only a white hatchling of a griffon and two children. The Lord Deimos is there, mane still settling about his shoulders in his swift approach and halt, and it takes the woman only a split second to know what to do.

Pivoting back around and out in the Basin, she darts through the vale at a blistering speed, deep enough into its heart that she is of the thought her voice will reach the Time Mender and her students wherever they might be. "Leeeeena! Tangeeeere!" she shouts, her voice commanding and sharp, desperation slightly fringing each syllable, "To the gateway, and make haste!"

Not pausing long enough to know if the healers are coming, but sure that they will do as asked if they can hear her, she gallops back towards the entrance of the Basin, sliding into the gathering of her herd mates and sending dirt flying about her digging hooves, eyes broad and savage as she pants and snorts.

"The Time Mender should be on her way," she says, softly with a dark growl beneath its depth, eyes searching the three who seem to have escaped the clutches of hell itself.

That is dragon damage along that child’s back. Her mouth curls, her heart writhes, and Arah is dying while her children can only watch and suffer from their own wounds.

Their mother is dying, and Illynx finds that she is slowly being consumed by the panic that lies in her memories, the sadness that has broken her own soul.

Where is the Mender? Why can she not just appear?

"Fuckers," she hisses, glaring at the wounds the perforate all of the Impersonator’s frame and the spine of her golden daughter, so much loathing and personal disgust broiling across her face.


[OOC: omg so crappy but she is hereeeeee ]