It's best to have failure happen early in life.
It wakes up the Phoenix bird in you so you rise from the ashes.
– Anne Baxter

He hadn’t cared to contemplate the gods – not yet.

A pyromaniac deity gave him little choice in the matter. Torching someone’s home was a foolproof way to get someone’s attention. Cineviam had told himself that there were other matters closer to home that he could focus on, but it appeared that the Sun God cared naught for the plans of lesser beings. He understood. Did Cineviam care about the ants’ thoughts and feelings when he trod upon their mound? No. But in his experience, the ants never plotted retaliation for the destruction of their home. Those busy little workers just resigned themselves to rebuilding. But even a god couldn’t miss the way the unicorns were drawn to source of the flames, the anger that radiated off of them, the menacing promise in the shouts.

It wasn’t always a good thing to be on Cineviam’s radar.

He stood immobile with his hind leg cocked and head at a comfortable height, a monochrome statue that everyone seemed to gloss over. Perfectly still, save for his eyes. Blood red eyes that narrow and train to a place behind the god – far off in the distance where he willed the emotions that raged through his veins to transfer and leave him bare and detached, as he should be. His gaze was scrutinizing, penetrating even, as Cineviam sought to expose the flaws and weaknesses in the seemingly impregnable wall that was the Sun God. If one watched close enough, they could almost see the wheels turning and cogs clicking away within in the sooty stallions mind.

He was also aware of his comrades, although he barely spared them more than a glance. Aware of kou, trying to reason with the deity, putting voice to the very thoughts Cineviam had had upon returning to The World’s Edge. Aware of Aurelius playing the unlikely hero, then he berates all – the damsel, the herd members, even the god. Aware of the arrival of Mauja, of Mirage and her entourage – he especially noted the one who told everyone to calm down. Cineviam didn’t lend his vocals to the chorus of voices because he knew why the Sun God was doing this – He did it simply because He could.

Instead Cineviam was doing just what the god wanted them all to do – seeing what they could do against His power, against what made Him a god.

There was no easy answer that he could report to Mauja later, when the worst of the storm had passed. No amulet hung around the Sun God’s neck that He drew power from that they could destroy. The God didn’t speak to control the magic so Cineviam doubted that any incantations would counter or bind the deity, though it wouldn’t hurt to ask the Moon Goddess. She might not be very forthcoming, especially if it happened to be one of her weaknesses too. He tilted his head back to watch the pillar of fire soar to the heavens.

No, if anything, the Sun god appeared leech whatever power he had straight from the sun.

Now that the God had departed the heat was tremendous. Fire ate the trees, bushes flapped like the skirts of dancers in Hell, smoke rolled in amongst them all. The newsprint behemoth thought about making a less flashy exit, his ashes were getting mixed in with the rest, making it hard to tell them apart. Of everything that was happening around him – THAT was what made the cinder beast nervous. However the pyrotechnic wonder, the flaming dragon that took the place of the Sun God, kept him rooted to the spot. Cineviam was marginally impressed now and fortunately the fiery figure neglected to notice him with the rest. He didn’t get tossed like a ragdoll into a tree. No glowing embers or flames found his flesh to sear it, just more ash to further stain his coat.

Once the hail turned into a soothing rainfall the frost-king seemed to remember himself and started barking orders at those assembled. Obviously the doctor and nurse would tend to the wounded while Mauja dealt with the undesirable visitors. The overlooked, unwanted or injured started to disperse and the stallion, whose cloud of ash rivaled that of pig-pen’s dirt, took that as his cue to leave. Before Cineviam could take a single step, his name cracked through the atmosphere. He responded with a natural reaction of ear and eye; his legs move, no more than a reflex, toward the approaching leader and waited for his instructions.

Playing errand-boy is, as a rule, far below his standards. If it were to fetch any other herd member, he would have nominated the king’s shadow for the job. The dwarf seemed eager enough and Cineviam hadn’t forgotten his earlier comment. His ashes had been enthralled by Hellena once; they had led him to her when he was miserable in Spectral Marsh. She had shown him a safe path through the muck and mire and he followed her to join The World’s Edge. If he could help her, he’d return the favor. Cineviam nodded his consent. His ears pressed backward into his thick, grey and white mane and with a powerful thrust of his hindquarters, the stallion surged into a ground-eating trot, quickly covering the ground to where he had last seen the seer.

His paced slowed to a stately walk, scarlet eyes on the ground in front of him. Cineviam was no expert tracker. Hellena knew this forest better than anyone and had a lot of years and knowledge on him. The odds of him finding the heartbroken mare when she didn’t want to be found were slim to none. He would not find her on tracks alone but Cineviam had a secret weapon – his ashes.

Prioritizing his wants and needs so that Hellena was at the pinnacle, he thought only of the classical unicorn, with her white coat dusted with silver dapples and of her violet eyes. The further he strayed into the remaining forest, the easier it became to sort his ashes from the debris from the fire. They danced before him like a phantom dancer embraced by a whirlwind. As time stretched on Cineviam grew worried. The seer had been injured she could not have gotten this far, could she? Before the ash-dancer waltzed along in front of him, now it was doing a frantic jitterbug as his concern doubled. The column of powder changed course suddenly and he wondered if he was close. If Hellena sensed him closing the gap between them, if this was her last desperate attempt to elude him.

“Hellena.” It wasn’t the tremulous inquiry into the unknown of the shadows but one confident of what he will find. His ashes haven’t led him astray yet but if she chose to keep evading him, wherever she popped up he undoubtedly wouldn’t be far behind.