Vaguely, Myrddin heard Sin call out to him, the filly he had met near the springs as well. Then an unrecognized voice, and finally Psyche herself. Heard them, but did not care.

The feeling of adrenaline bursting in pin-hole size eruptions throughout his chest had captured his full attention. It was as if each molecule of his being was forming a one-to-one relationship with something in the mirror; pulling in a tantalizing fray of electricity. Still, Myrddin did not stir. His milky gaze remained opened, concentrated on the portion of the mirror that he could see, with his head lowered. Whatever creature - demon or otherwise - threatened to step through the cracked surface, struck no chord of fear in the old philosopher's heart. Myrddin's fate had along ago been assigned to him - at the dawn of time in fact - and he was merely waiting to see how the events would play out. The only uncertainty was how he would inevitably die, and his own ignorance would not be something he feared.

The air around Myr seemed to suddenly grow colder, and stop all together, as if the molecules themselves were holding their collective breath as Mauja emerged. From the stillness came movement, and the cave gloriously echoed with Mauja's footfalls as his hooves struck a chord with the rocky ground. Myrddin had dared to hope, against all of philosophical insight, that the God of the Spark had been giving him a premonition of Mauja's revival in his criptic words. However it was not until the boy-king spoke, that Myrddin allowed his vast mind to fully acknowledge what his soul was desperately trying to tell him - Mauaja has returned.

Myrddin knew that Mauja had disappeared - the wisened white stag had believed that Mauja merely slipped the surely bonds of Helovia and become a being of light. The thought had made Myr jealous if not disappointed that he would not be able to spend more time with the frost-king he had met so gaily all of those long months ago. Before the invasion, before he was blinded, before he became a Haruspex…Myrddin Mauja's voice was as deep and resonant as Myr remembered, and the old unicorn was suddenly very glad to have laid eyes upon Mauja while they were still able to see. You do not need to kneel before me. Moving to rise, Myr's shoulders and knees cracked with annoyance. As he stood, he turned his head, allowing his gnarled and twisted horn to brush the crack on the surface of the mirror. It felt the way he expected it to - his horn did not suddenly encounter a divot in the mirror's fluctuating surface, but rather just a change. Of temperature and energy and force and vivacity and liveliness - a metaphysical crack. "Mmmhmm." Myrddin muttered to himself.

Rising, and recalling that the boy-king stood a few inches taller than he, Myr raised his bearded chin slightly, frowning. His eyes, once the colour of a deep purple twilight, were now milky, white, and unseeing. Casting this unnerving gaze to where he believed Mauja to be, he snorted. "You have broken my mirror, youngling" He replied gruffly, his voice rough but not without affection. When first they met, Mauja had never formally introduced himself as the King of anything, and although Myrddin of course knew, to others, he may simply have looked like an old man making a fool of himself in front of their King. His stern looks didn't last long however, and soon his aged white face broke into a hearty grin.

Have you come back to us? A large moose-like ear flicked back towards the sound of the mares voice, as she spoke. Myrddin smirked sceptically, tilting his head slightly. "Yes..are you back?" Myr inquired, "Or are you you simply here to break an old mans' things?" Again, his feigned sternness did not last long, and his amusement underneath easily was seen through.

To go on is to go through.
At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.