The dragon was brilliant in her glow, pure and white, seemingly larger and greater than Amaris ever remembered seeing her in the flesh. Her mind was a maelstrom, a torrent of emotions and colours and memories slamming against her own all at once - the dragonmare could barely stand upright against it. It beat against her mercilessly, though unintentionally. It caused quite the ache behind her eyes, as the dragonmare did her best to construct mental confines for her own mind to escape the oppressive onslaught from the white Fajira.

Fajira, please, she pleaded mentally, calling out through the overpowering waves of emotions rolling off the dragon. I am here now, you are not alone, you are not lost!

Suddenly, silence.

And then:

"Amaris."

It was not Fajira who spoke, but another voice, one she knew better, more intimately than any other on this world - Tandavi.

The dragonmare looked to her cousin, her oldest friend, the only remnants of her family who still walked the same soil as she within Helovia. While she held her cousin within her molten gaze, she was able to weather the onslaught that Fajira wrought upon her mind, able to contain the dragon's spirit in such a way that was not restricting or cruel, but comforting and supportive.

Tandavi was speaking again, and Amaris felt the fire within her turn to ash, felt her eyes of molten gold solidify and freeze over. She mentioned Kaj, the creme steed who Amaris had once called uncle, she mentioned a memorial, and though she did not say it directly, Amaris knew she was talking about Lace.

Lace is dead, too. And Fajira. Oh, Fajira..

Heartbroken, wasted, dead inside, Amaris looked to the glowing light once more, and felt tears wet her cheeks once more.

"It's not fair." The dragonmare was speaking to no-one, and yet everyone. "It's not fair," she said again, stomping a forefoot and swishing her tail, hearing the crackle of her electrum whip as it partially unfurled and snapped. It was an afterthought that she remembered Natraj, remembered his dark form by her side as she lit her own mother's body aflame, remembered his constant shadow following her as she wandered about the site, a lost babe praying for something that simply couldn't happen. She had never felt abandoned by her beloved Tandavi, even if they spent so many years separated - she sorely hoped that her cousin felt similarly, and though she made that prayer to whatever Gods might deign to listen, she would not blame her dearest cousin for hating her.

The dragonmare turned to her cousin then, to the Fire Dancer with the golden moon upon her face, and buried her tiara amongst the other's mane, seeking an embrace only family could surely fulfil.

Amaris