O N N I
back then our bones wouldn't break, always fighting to stay awake.

The blue eyes of the sky turn sad. His startled movements are jagged, leaving behind a trail of bright white for brief moments, a mist which clung to his partially eroded figure. Onni was certain Mauja was no longer in her world, the one where she stood now. The mare had no way of knowing about his slip into a different time, only knew that this version of Mauja was not the statue of beautiful ice which had walked beside her with ethereal grace. This apparition held his face, but even the expressiveness of the normally collected eyes were different. This was not Mauja the Frostheart as Onni had known him, for he was gone from this world; she would have bet her healing ability upon it.

He was here, though, could obviously see her and hear her voice. Her concern laces the pale features of her face, and the healer steps closer toward the transparent version of Mauja. After a few moments, consideration on the face of the Frostheart, her name is whispered. Onni smiles encouragingly at this ghost. He was physically gone, but his mind remained. Judging from his lack of control over the look in his eyes and the sporadic movements of his body, the mare did not know for how much longer that would uphold. Standing before the great tree of Dragon's Blood, the King surely should know where he stood, but the question that seeps out of his mouth next begs her to question even that.

Why are you here? Onni looks about, noticing the shadows at the corner of her vision once more as they dance and dazzle. Lyhty begins to chrip nervously at her, noticing the mood her mind had taken on. What was once excitement was now taking on something worried and sad, a lingering breath of mourning in the face of the dead. The bird knew from the depressed mood Onni often had during thunderstorms that lightning reminded her of someone, someone gone. It was this that lead the little songbird to think this Mauja was not the first ghost she knew. "You are in the Dragon's Throat," she says to him, her voice quiet and calm. "Why should I not be here?" Her smile is weak, speaking of the worry which settles in her chest, but Onni has already found the alternative meaning of the king's question.

He was not referring to the desert. He was asking why he, a creature living in the afterlife, could see the one who was still a part of the living. Believing Mauja has crossed over from the land of the living, Onni's eyes drift sadly up to his pools of blue. "How is it that I can see you?" Was the shaman so tied to life that she could now see the spirits of Helovia wandering lost on this earth still? In the deep recesses of her mind, a hope that Onni might speak once more to Voltaic in such a manner rises. Her heart clinches, thinking of her dead mentor whom she was unable to save. If Onni was given one more chance to talk to the joyful stallion of black and yellow, she would thank him for being the father she had needed in her life. She would thank him for teaching her strength. She would thank him for giving her resilience. She would tell him all the things she should have while he was still with her in this world.

It was funny that out of all the ghosts she could have met, Mauja was the one she had the least to say to. Death has a terrible sense of humor.