"Because death is inevitable, my friend."

Vayu had not meant to intrude on the black stallion's mourning; he simply had the same idea. The palomino had flown to the marsh in hopes of finding some respite from the despicable heat, and instead was met with dissatisfying, dried mud, and humidity in the air. Still, it was better than many other regions of Helovia, save perhaps the Desert - ironic, no? In the depths of the Throat, water remained plentiful. Vayu snorted in dry amusement. The Sun God's wrath was hurting all except the ones who toppled his regime, the ones who had killed his oracle here on earth.

Ra. Vayu's oldest friend was dead, and he still could not wrap his mind around it, the same way he could never understand what had possessed the pale stallion and turned him into a zealot in the first place. All say he had paced through the dried marshes, contemplating the lion's fall. Pieces of a puzzle that he had long been trying to construct were falling into place within his mind, curious threads weaving a complicated puzzle of a stallion tormented by a dark secret. What the secret was, Vayu could not yet say; he had known for some time now that his friend was plagued by it, but the golden stallion was not astute enough to determine its nature. Instead, he had been forced to watch helplessly as Ra succumbed to madness, maintaining a cheerful face and the hopeful outlook that everything would be better someday.

It did not get better. And now Ra was dead.

The shout of the dark stallion echoed through the marshes, so full of anguish that it sent a shudder through Vayu's golden form. Despite his own torment, or perhaps because of it, the stallion sought out the source of the voice, following the echoing cry to its origin and stopping a wingspan away from the stranger. Yet it was not a stranger - it was one of the invaders. Vayu eyed the black brute with wariness as a name floated to the forefront of his mind. Azzuen, he recalled, now general of the Throat. Was it his brother who died, stealing Ra's last breath? The pegasus was not positive, but based on the dreadlocked general's countenance, it seemed a good guess.

Vayu rustled his wings loudly, hoping to alert Azzuen to his presence without startling the stallion. "Death is inevitable," he repeated, ears laid back in sorrow and displeasure. He did not approach, did not dare come closer; he only watched through two-toned eyes, sadly, sympathetically, and if he were to be completely honest, a little angrily. If only they had stayed away, these Tuuli, then none of this would have happened. Neither lion nor pegasus would be dead; the drought would not plague the land; neither stallion would be here, now, drowning in emotion they could not escape.