A slow, but sweeping, walk carried the mountainous body across Helovia. Now a King— but it was not a prideful word. There was neither glory nor veneration to be found in any of his hollow hoof-prints. He walked and walked and walked. He passed the grove of his sparring and coupling with Nyx. He passed a crumbling, pillared building that he had never seen. He walked for inspiration, he walked to clear his mind, he walked to find answers.

But, instead, his hooves revealed only empty clanging as the ground merged from grass to dirt to bare and black rock. Pale ears, which had drifted sideways in mindless meditation, flicked forward to follow his downcast gaze. This rock was so dark, darker even than the fallen night. It slowly drifted to an illuminated blue as he continued, each large hoof eliciting a heavy, bell-like peal against the unforgiving land.

It was unearthly. The light flecks in his irises leapt against the azure depths as they reflected the unearthly blue glow. Questioning gaze swept across murky statues— were they shrines? A vague sense of surprise passed through his distracted skull because they were in such disrepair for how active the gods were in Helovia.

His traveling eyes continued past the shrines, sweeping mindlessly across the barren magma and rocks. But it was not barren. His gaze arrested on a white shadow. It was nearly a silhouette, a unicorn with camel’s humps? Long strides falter for a moment— if gods graced the earth here, then could demons?

But this was no demon. This was a man with demons. His eyes sharpen and focus, gradually making out the pale and spotted body of his friend.

His first inclination was to approach his friend, and his walk became swifter and more purposeful. But then the image of a crumpled white body, the true cause of his walking, rushed through his empty mind and halted his steps. Uncertainty locked him in her viselike grip. He wanted to approach his friend and offer some kind of solace or comfort. But he knew there was none to be found. Neither in his giant warmth, nor in this coldly blue solitude.

Yet, still, he found his legs moving once again, large body coming to the cliff’s edge, to stand beside the spotted leopard. His gaze studied the surreally lit profile, before turning to the inky sea. He stood close beside him as he halted, buckskin barrel nearly brushing his snowy coat. “My friend,” his deep, rumbling voice was lower than usual. The words holding more than their simple syllables, “I am sorry…” he trails off into his large, empathetic silence— wishing to press his comfort against Mauja, yet knowing it would be a futile endeavor.