so i listen to the    wind for an answer

She remembers the moment the wind was taken from her. She’d known instantly when her sister and her had crossed into the Threshold of Helovia. It’s like someone had punched her in the gut and ripped out her heart in one instant. The thing that had defined her so fully was simply gone. Snuffed out by a barrier she still could not see, a barrier she’d never be entirely certain of. She simply knew it was there.

She also knew it was what kept her safe now. In this place where magic was so different, where strange colors and markings ran rampant through the lands. No one would ever find her here from her old home. At least, it is highly unlikely. And anyone who did find her would know she is no threat now. Without the wind, and with more and more time passing, she has no claim to her family’s old throne. Truthfully, she has no desire to take it, either. She’s happy in the Edge, serving as a Moon Doctor. It is not the life she imagined, but it’s a life she got to choose for herself.

And so, like she often does, she makes her way to the Threshold, to offer the Edge as a sanctuary to those in need of a place to call home. She wanted to give that opportunity to others, just as Elsa had given it to her. The day is beautiful and quiet (so rare anymore, particularly in the rather busy Edge) so she takes off from the cliff, making the journey to the Threshold in the sky. It makes quick work of the trek, but also, gives her a moment alone with just the wind in her hair and the sun above her.

The journey is not really as long as she’d like. She could have simply spent the day flying, truthfully. But she has things to do, and a duty to the Edge, and a desire to visit the Threshold anyway. So she lands on the edge of the forest and walks the rest of the way in, weaving through the now familiar trees. They are sparse enough here though the going is easy, and she follows the path toward the stream.

The sound of voices and…crying?...catches her attention. Immediately, she turns her course until a gold pegasus with black-tipped wings (not unlike the teal tip on her own wings, she thinks) and deer-like filly come into view. She is in time to catch Vhere ees xere? spoken in an accent she does not recognize. But the words are clear enough, as are the tears on her golden cheeks.

She closes the distance between them quickly, instinctively looking for any sign of physical injury. But there is nothing obvious, and Lyanna suspects this is no type of injury her magic can heal.  Perhaps there were a few cuts or bruises she could help with in places she could not readily see. And perhaps the dark mist would calm anxiety (though she had never tried, and wasn’t sure the magic worked in that way). But it could not mend a broken heart.

She would know, after all.

“This is Helovia. Specifically, you are in the Threshold, where many new horses end up,” she offers, her voice friendly, kind, but also serious. A bit of worry etched itself into her gaze, though her teal eyes remained rather doctor-like, looking for any possible injury. “I’m Lyanna. Are you hurt?” she asks, pretty certain she knows the answer, but still. She has to ask, just in case.  

lyanna