Here… Again.

The Halcyon Flats lay out like a mirage and, just over the other side of it, were the Isles that she had been brought to- saved by, before all hell broke loose. It was a harsh memory, another one; Dacianna was becoming quite the collector of bitter past lives for her tender age of four. How did one become so unlucky?  She never settled anymore, instead wandering here and there about the new land she had been brought to, always thinking about what ifs and what could have been. The roan drifted across the mirror like land aimlessly until night fell and she was no longer lonely. Her eyes traced the dark places, the lurking horrors that she couldn’t quite spot, but they were there, watching. She tried her best to follow, determination fuelling her onwards to figure out what exactly it was until she found a patch of water that seemed to ooze with energy. Something was there, someone was there, watching her with wise old eyes and a familiar smile creasing her lips.

"Ma" Dacianna choked as the memory surfaced more and she remembered.

Before the Rift. Even before her botched escape there was a memory still so vivid.

It was raining, not hard, but raining all the same as it always did in Borghul. The ground was a mud bath and horses plodded through it glumly, some pulled carts full of trinkets to be given as offerings to the castle, whilst others struggled up the mountain to look for gold and other precious materials. If you were small enough in stature and were not a female, then you were sent down the mine. Dacianna had heard stories that some went down and never came out, others went mad and were chained to posts. Her own father had gone down once and never came back, but she had been young and her memory of him wasn’t great.

The roan never went that far up the mountain, however, she was a mare and her duties lay below. Or… She wasn’t meant to anyway.

The day was one of those days, she had just turned two and was furious. A colt named Dorian had stolen one of her trinkets; a gift left from her missing father, and he had run off with it. She had, with a lot determination, gone after him wailing every curse she knew and chasing him across the lower regions until they came to the mountain border. Her hooves had slid in the ground and she had stopped outside it whilst he, the little scavenger, waltzed over to the other side with a look of pure triumph. “You’re so dense Daci, a girl like you doesn’t deserve trophies like these” he had teased ruthlessly, swinging the gold bracelet around in his mouth whilst Dacianna stewed with rage.

It was stupid, a childish spat, she should have left him and got him back later.

She didn’t.

Instead, overflowing with fury, she had marched over the border and snatched it from his mouth. “You’re disgusting” she had spat right before he shouted as loud as he could “GIRLS AREN'T ALLOWED HERE!” and just like that Dacianna found a pair of dark beady eyes on her. The old bay warden who always lingered near the boundary caught the roan filly, her bracelet still hanging from her mouth, on the wrong side of the line. Dorian knew he had been there, the snitch. 

“Mihai! Matei!” the elderly bay called.

She was carted off by two strong looking, slightly overweight, stallions who looked rather pissed off to be escorting a tiny filly who screamed her innocence all the way to the official in charge that day. Dorian, on the other hand, had appeared rather pleased with himself. Dacianna had sworn she would murder him.

However, when she reached the official post she had also found her mother there, lines of worry creasing her strawberry face.

“Dacianna did you cross the border today?” the official began.

“Yes but-“

The Official, snooty bastard, was having none of it, but her mother had stepped in that day and it was her mother who took the blame. She was moved inside the castle gates that stood watch over Borghul, but not one soul dragged in there had ever come out. Before she had left, the gentle strawberry roan had given away her red sash to her distraught daughter and placed it around her blue neck. "Leave here, there's nothing for you" she had pleaded as she had been dragged away.

"Sorry Daci"

In a moment rage she had lost her mother leaving her inconsolable and terribly lonely, but the seeds of escape were planted firmly. Going into that castle was suicide, but leaving Borghul wasn't.

The memory lingered on her mothers tear stained face that had wrinkled a sad smile before leaving. It still made her angry, angry at herself and at the devils of Borghul, the male overlording that had destroyed her family. Dacianna suddenly felt conscious of the red sash that hugged her neck and she reached back to touch it as her lids fell over desolate golden eyes. It was stupid, so stupid, a childish fight that had ended in her own mothers incarceration. 

Escaping wasn't easy, the Rift had been hell and she'd been thrown into a battle to be free of it. Dacianna didn't even know how to go back, but she wasn't going to try.

"Sorry ma, but I won't return" she whispered.