Roaming eyes could search all they liked; it was unlikely they would settle upon the shimmering, fuzzy image of the little shadow that stalked the Threshold. A golden ray of sunlight – or was it a dragon? – filtered through the canopy above, darting this way and that. It was indeed a dragon, a queenly one at that, golden as the sun’s surface, glittering brighter than a sparkling crystal. The creature was bonded to the shadow-mare, by a link than ran deeper than even the ties blood could offer, a bond that combined their very souls and minds. A singsong call of dragon design erupted from the golden maw, a call made to her bonded, and mental images of the scene below her floating form were sent to the mare’s devious and cunning mind. Motions were made, a little ways away, by a dark smudge of a mare, it was difficult to know however – if one did manage to focus upon it for more than a second, they might think it was merely a trick of the sun’s heat, and continue on with their life. But it was a living, breathing creature who orchestrated this magic, this magic that defined her, just as her bond with her dragon did.

Memories were wonderful, tricky things. Their ability to be triggered at random, to overwhelm the senses and enrapture the mind for minutes, hours, or even lifetimes on end, was astonishing. Mirage was a master of her emotions, but sometimes even she fell victim to an onslaught of unfortunate events; the passing of her parents a notable darkness upon her brow. But she was also an older, wizened mare, capable of reflecting back on things she had done and appreciate things still to come. Life was hard, it was unfair, but she would always push forth, onwards and upwards, and now, being the leader of her beloved Qian, she would take her loyal friends with her.

A smooth melody was hummed from the maw of the mistress, as she crept closer to the steely steed. The shimmering veil fell away from her, and as she approached it was as if she were pulling herself directly from the shadows of the surrounding forest. The Threshold was a comfortable realm, for this mare enjoyed forests, but it was too close to the outskirts, too near to the part where Helovia became undefined and the wilds of the outside world more dominant over one’s existence. Warm, honey-gold eyes peered out from beneath silken tendrils of the charred mare’s forelock, a kind gaze held within them, though very little else was expressed by this devious little mare. “Greetings.” The mare’s accented tones stated, and she bowed her sculpted tiara to the pewter tinged stallion. Noting the water coating his bodice, the mare tilted her tiara on a slight incline, showing her curiosity. “What brings you to Helovia?” The question was posed politely enough, a whisper of a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. The mare’s gaze roamed over the young brute, though he was perhaps not that young, maybe only just coming of age, discovering the world for all it was worth. He stood upon the doorstep of a realm of opportunity, would he take the next step or would he trip at the doorway? Akaith glided easily down from the canopy now, alighting upon the obsidian one’s hide as delicately as a feather might land upon a pillow, her own swirling gem-like eyes drinking the sight before her with a silent dignity, and grace.