The clouds had bridged her ascension to the curious floating island, her son on a nearby, magical elevator and her griffon lounged across her platinum plated shoulders with her feline tail twitching in drowsy serenity. The Lady and the boy prince feel little trepidation as they move upwards, Rikyn drawing his inner strength from the calm demeanor of his dam, and the golden bitch herself enthralled with the magical wonder of it all and the promise that it was safe – why else would it hover above the sacred stones of the Gods?

They took their first steps onto the flying island with wonder writ into each of their faces, the Lady turning her golden eyes to find her son’s matching their intensity, and both had set off at an easy lope down the seemingly old paths that were etched into this strange place. Illynx wonders, as she looks upon the gaily decorated cherry trees and the endless fields of bountiful green, if they have come upon the home of the Gods, the place from which they have watched over their children for eons.

Rikyn only feels amazement with each new step, finding the glorious, fresh smell of the air here delightful and the sound of the birds even more so, no ponderous thoughts as to why or how drifting through his mind that only sees the here and now and finds it beautiful and perfect. He barely manages to follow the path of his dam as she sweeps towards some place that beckons to her heart, knowing that if he is separated from her here, the punishment he receives from her later will be highly unpleasant and undesirable.

Before too long, the hills and vales ease into a flat landscape which houses multiple tents of vibrant shades. Illynx instantly notes each as a tent of the various herds below and moves towards the blue to investigate it further; her son takes longer in the realization, only understanding what the tents are as they make their way through the gap in the fabric that comprises their own.

The golden woman takes in a deep breath of air to find that she is the first of her kin to find the clearing and the tents therein, though the outside air tastes of the other lands – it does not surprise her. The unicorns of the Basin rarely exit the confines of their mountain, for it provides all they need – where as the less dedicated and refined communities outside the snow palace tend to wander as the most primitive and ancient of equinites all about the face of the land, finding no true satisfaction in their own homes.

"We gonna go tell the others?" the brown tinted, black colt alongside her asks, and she tilts her gaze from the hearty flames in the center of the structure back to him with slight admonishment of his poor grammar writ into its expression. "We find out why it is all here, first," she says with some lilt to her tones to suggest she finds him foolish in this moment, drawing his ears to either side of his head in shame before he disguises it by casting his eyes out of the tent and following their path into the sunlight.

"And how are we going to do that? Ask rocks?" he replies smartly once he’s sure the cloth separates him from her shock magic and he’s well out of her horn’s strike range. His mother snorts angrily from within the tent and stalks out after him with her ears pinned to her head, glaring at him with her nostrils narrow and vicious. "I’ll ask whoever I find," she snaps, her smile growing on her face swiftly and etched with mocking, "you’ll stay here with Kyst."

At the mention of her name, the little cat creature rouses and stretches along the Lady’s back, her pale eyes flickering out towards the son of her master with an intentness; while young, she thrived in pleasing Illynx and was well capable of causing quite a bit of hurt with her talons, claws and teeth – not to mention the emotional bond between woman and griffon allowed Kyst to call a warning from great distances and send the mare back to deal with her son if he tried to disobey. Mewling sweetly and rubbing the length of her body along the arch of the Lady’s neck, Kyst gives her keeper a gentle departing nip on her dark mane before bounding down into the grasses of the magic island, strutting over to sit alongside the prince with a smug expression.

"Whatever," Rikyn mumbles, looking down at the griffon with a dislike that was tinged also with love (while Kyst did his mother’s bidding, the griffon was good to him) as the Gilded Blade leaves him in the shadow of the tent with her companion. He whispers down to the griffon as soon as he’s sure his dam can’t hear him. "We don’t need her anyway, do we?"