Loneliness was a hard thing to face, and the growing cherub was fighting it valiantly that moonlit night. After Midas had fallen asleep, he had remained awake beneath his wing caught in thought. Emerald eyes had been unwavering as they found his father's face. Somewhere inside, he wanted to yell and scream at Midas for abandoning him every day just like his mother had all those months ago. Cera didn't have many friends, if at all, and Mystique hadn't been around in what seemed like seasons. Who else did he have to go to? Hototo, of course, but he could only see his heart-brother on a few rare occasions due to their differing herds. Onni? He often didn't know how to act around the kind mare, and she was busy with duties just as often as Midas lately. Note? He, too, had been curiously absent as of late. Cera had descended sharply into the ache of loneliness, and he wanted to cry and scream at Midas constantly these days. Why did he have to leave every day? Couldn't he see the pain on Cera's face as he watched him walk away every morning? Couldn't he understand that Cera wanted nothing more than one day, one simple day just to themselves? That he had been shaken to the core after meeting the horrible monster with Midas' face, and needed the comfort and stability of his dad? Such words had nearly escaped him tonight, and so he had fled. Out and away from Midas' wing and heat, Ilaria barely able to scrambled upon his back before he was racing across the desert away from their sacred tree. She tried desperately to get through to him through their bond, but Cera had viciously blocked her from his mind that night.

Growing. He was growing. Long legs no longer tripped him into skinned knees, and the tall stature he would someday own had lent him the speed he so desired that night. Anguish was upon his face as he pushed his body to the limit over the sands, reaching the fastest speed he could possibly manage. Thoughts needed to be banished from his head, even if the pounding of his heart in his ears through this physical punishment didn't quite drown out the cries of his heart. Finally he could take it no longer, and his wings rose to his side. Being so thin and lanky, they were surprisingly large in wingspan as if he were triple the size. Cera had been crafted to embrace the sky, and he would never long for anything else other than its cool, loving embrace. Only when he was flying did he not feel so alone.

Heaving breaths from the strain of his sprint soon calmed in the air, the stillness of the night comforting to him that evening. The sky was empty of all clouds, and the full moon was bright and inviting, lighting the way to...wherever Cera was going. He didn't care to think about it right now, simply wanting to get as much space between himself and the Throat as possible. For hours he soared effortlessly, thanking every God he knew for allowing him this. This was what he was made to do, and he often hated that he must land or crash when exhaustion finally clutched him. And although he was only starting to tire when he reached the coast of the Blue, Cera began to look for a place to land. He had been following the coast during the entire flight, dark eyes in awe of the sparkling moonlight upon the dark ocean with its calming, crashing waves. A pale coat caught his attention as he had been dropping in altitude a few yards every few minutes, needing to land but unwilling to leave his mother so soon. It hurt less to imagine the sky itself had crafted him, not some faceless ghost that haunted his memories in tiny glimpses, a heartless and nameless femme that had abandoned him in the Dragon's Throat.

This other horse however had caught his eye, and so like a sparrow he tucked in his wings and darted down at a speed gifted only to those with his slight frame. Like parachutes his wings snapped out to slow him at the last possible second, and with hardly a sound he alighted upon the sand a few paces from the unicorn in the water. Landing in the ocean had muffled whatever sound may have echoed as he landed, but he didn't wish to scare her, though she looked rather familiar...before he could stop himself he boldly called out in disbelief to her, voice deepening with age and smooth as honey, sweet. "Mystique? Is that you?" He almost didn't dare say it, for fear she was a mirage that would shatter into the moonlight like some trick of the mind. She had disappeared, left him alone when he needed a friend the most. When the scar that still gleamed like a silver badge of honor across his chest had first been placed there. Something like betrayal burned in his eyes, and Ilaria clambered to rest upon his crown between his ears once more. She did not know this filly very well, having only met her briefly when the two had first met Lana together, directly after the attack Cera had suffered through.

Striding through the water, Cera remarked with a sadly tinged somberness that he had grown well over Mystique once again. Though he was no bulky or broad in any way, the large span of his wings and the need to tilt his crown down to merely look at her made him feel even lonelier despite being in her presence. He did not greet her with the exuberance he might have, a few seasons ago. She had abandoned him, become a ghost on the wind, and it was clear with how much they had both grown that he didn't know her as well as he had back when they were younger. He was older now, had changed quite a lot even if she had somehow miraculously stayed the same. Ilaria eyed Mystique somewhat warily, green-edged reddish brown irises fixed on her. She did not approve that this femme was further saddening her beloved, but through their bond she could sense that he knew her and had loved her in some way before they had bonded. Because of this, and only because of this, she remained a silent guardian upon his crown, ready to comfort or demand Cera leave her presence if she upset him further. But Cera was not upset, though his eyes were stormy. He merely looked as if he had been through a tornado and had been the only one to come back out, and the loneliness was like a shroud, a veil, around him. Mystique was no longer his other half, the one who could understand him better than anyone else.

Only Ilaria held that spot now. He had somehow been unable to hold on to all the others.