I have flown a vast distance the past few days, all while tiptoeing around the former threshold of the gods, their original domain when their divine immortal forms materialized upon the earth, compelled by an unfathomable force to answer the puny mortals who so recklessly called on impossibly dangerous, unearthly beings to grant them magic, companions, and their other greedy wishes. It has been a long time since I have dared to touch down the harsh stone pathways, to furl my wings and take to simple prayer, simply acknowledging the gods that have ruled Helovia for as long as anyone can remember. They are grand entities, and have their flaws as any mortal, and yet I do believe they are entitled to something more, considering their importance. For if we take to only pinpointing the bad in our gods, I imagine, our society would crumble in its belief there is something greater out there, and soon enough the mighty gods themselves would smite us, I would think. Was there a time when it was different? Where the gods walked among us? Did the gods create Helovia, or did they simply find it? How could they have crafted it, anyways? Surely even they could not simply appear out of nothing. So what had come before them?

I tilt my body downwards, while resisting the irritable tug of gravity on me willing to fling me downwards quite happily, the only sound accompanying me the quiet rustle of feathers as I shift and maneuver, slipping and shimmying down from the blue until I'm startlingly close to the ground, and wondering how exactly I came down so quickly. I flicker my wings back, and forth, see-sawing indelicately at the air until my hind hooves crack onto the hard rock. A small, wheezy surprised breath escapes my chest in a huff, and with a shake of my wings my front hooves fall. A light sheen of sweat coats me, turning my coat glossy under the sullen Orangemoon light.

My wings fluff up, as I shuffle and hem and blink a bit, my legs a touch wobbly from being airborne for so long, but I move along, knowing the wobbles and quivers won't leave until I start walking. I shake my legs lightly with each step, waking them, until I feel the jelly-like sensation is mostly gone. It is then I see the shrines. Immediately my breath stops; my eyes prickle slightly, and I close my eyes firmly, inhaling sharply and wishing I could send the images away. Desecrated, broken, disconsolate. Etched in my eyelids I can see the hard outlines of the dismantled shrines. One is burnt, two are broken and shattered, and one is covered in vines darker than my ebony coat with faintly glowing blossoms. It's hard, seeing this. So hard. I cannot believe it. Somewhere in my chest, my heart sinks, and seems to thud dully against my rib cage, sliding deep somewhere into the pit of my stomach.

I do believe the gods have their reasons. Still, I cannot help but feel, so many months after it happened, that they have abandoned us.

Well. What's done, is done. I am but a mundane pegasus. There is simply no way I could call upon the gods. Yet I could still pray. Forward I step, and take another step, and gently I touch each shrine with my muzzle. I'm not zealously religious. Respect I hold for each and every god, equally so, and I will try my best to respect their choice for leaving us. With each touch of each shrine, I hope it will convey my care to them. I take a step back, hooves cracking on the stone, and inhale and exhale, my breast quivering. How many others have come here, seeking guidance to find none? How many have prayed for their return, not to find it? Was it selfish of the divine to withdraw, or were we selfish for wanting them back, seeking their godly presence? Our greed, I did not doubt, drove them back from us. They were wholly unimpressed with our ever-hungry hearts. I'm not surprised, truth be told.

The air suddenly tastes of electricity, and my hair stands on end. So sudden it is, I nearly bolt. Instead, I spin around dashingly quick, wings roused as my instincts kick in to flee. My eyes alight upon a mare, young, looking to be of my age. Despite the horn crowning her as unicorn, and the plumed leonine tail, she smells distinctly of salt and ocean air, a fact I place to her being, certainly, from our allied home the World's Edge. I rejoice. Much better than the strange lingering creatures that may prowl, created by the excess of the gods' magic, that I had imagined in the split seconds as I rushed to turn. For a moment, I consider simply not speaking, turn to the shrines and act as if asorbed in prayer, but thinking this would be decidedly rude to one who is from the herd we are close to, my choice of action is to greet her with cordiality. "Hello," I greet her, expecting her to be well aware of my presence by now. "Andromeda, of the Throat."

The crisp autumn air ruffles my feathers, a nippiness to it that keeps me from drifting into tangled thoughts, preventative of musings egalitarian of importance. Shaken out of my prayers, I seem to almost grow taller, appearing neat, tidy, and svelte, fluid and graceful I should hope, proffering a quiet smile reminiscent of a weathered mare looking at her last foal, filled with memories of times gone past of youth and beauty instead of the sagging stomach and swayed back. I felt old. Mature and tired; wanting to know of all the wonders of life and yet not knowing any. My parents had left me at a young age. That I didn't mind, not with the sky being able to raise me, the sparkling stars keeping me safe and at ease. Now, the night always seemed to keep me safe, as if it had taken me in and come in to love me, more than my nomad parents ever had. I knew the night, what seemed my sire and dam and even reflected on my coat, was not animate, by any means. But it was real, in a strange way.

Scarter. It was an odd name, but it seemed to fit the slightly devious sparkle in the other mare's eyes. My ears twitched, hearing the soft rush of the ocean far below the jutting rock of the Gods, a dark murmur in the background, layered beneath everything. Does the ocean ever grow tired of trying to join with the rocks? Why is it they are so drawn to the shores?

"It's good to meet you," I say kindly, even though if it really is good or bad is unknown and remains to be seen. My hooves scuff over the rock, producing a loud cracking sound.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to insult the threshold of the gods," I murmur, casting my gaze back to the shrines with a touch of anxiety. Who knows what the gods will consider unimportant or important? What constitutes as an insult or what is simply folly? In any case, gods are not someone to be reckless around. I must honestly admit my eyes do widen as she refers to someone- the God of Time?!- as Sparky. She's seen a god in flesh and blood?! Or... ichor, I suppose, blood of the gods. "You've really seen a god? And he spoke to you?" I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my slightly awed voice. Maybe I was wrong! Perhaps they aren't abandoning us as I thought! "I thought they had left us, abandoned us." I admit quietly, scuffling my hooves once more on the ground. I share in Scarter's laugh, chuckling softly before falling quiet. "I came here to pray. And visit the carnage of the gods' shrines themselves," I admit a little sheepishly, feeling rather odd.

It's then I realize why; how long has it been since I've talked to another girl of my age? "So, why did the Time God tell you? Did he give you a quest?"

My wings rustle darkly at my sides as I let them open up, stretching out the swiftly knotting muscles that become so very swiftly exhausted once I land, much the way the marathon runner does not realize how ill he feels until he slows. The ground is still unsteady underneath my long, slender legs, as if the earth no longer wishes to embrace me. "I'm sorry- I'm just so, excited, I guess. I really thought the gods were gone.

   I started ever so slightly at her rich laugh, wondering why in the world she would giggle so- what was funny about this? She must have a strange sense of humor; yet nevertheless, she was an interesting change from the polite horses I met frequently in the Throat. Perhaps it was good for me meeting others, instead of being wrapped up in my little bubble, floating in the ethereal skies far away from civilization. So I try not to frown in confusion, brow wrinkling; instead I chuckle with her, soft and quietly, a little bit shyly like a filly who does not know why her parents laugh at her frolicking in the grass."Well, I suppose you are right, although I've never met anyone with that approach before."

I shift my weight, hooves clacking unpleasantly on the old rock. Imagine, the gods had stood on this very ground! Speaking to young mortals like myself... how long had it taken for them to decide to leave us? Did they care? Did they miss our pathetic whims and sad-eyed woes?

Nothing I ever do is a good idea, she says, and I think quietly to myself we must be polar opposites then. I am cautious and logical and mild, even-tempered and think before I speak. She is everything I am not, it looks like; she does not care, she plunges into the fray, tears her teeth into the heart of the matter and does not blink. In a way, I admire the way she is unafraid. How wicked and brave this Scarter is, with the demonic sparkle in her eyes. I like her, immediately, and the smile widens on my face- I'm almost ditzy around her, nearly delirious, her carefree mood infectious to me dry and logical approach. "Why, I'm you're opposite it seems- I would never dream of approaching something or doing something without thinking it through. I suppose my job calls for a good thinking noggin, though. I can't risk the safety of my herd through a reckless action." It's true, of course. I couldn't place myself above my herd- to do so would be more than unfair. Unlike Aryel and Levi... I scowl ever so slightly. Both of them have abandoned me to my duties. Surely Kri would soon demote them- or cast them from the herd altogether. It was unbecoming to leave one alone, struggling to help form the herd into something cohesive alongside Kri and Sumati and the other importants.

She says something else, snapping me back to rigid attention. I offer her a slightly meek smile, feeling rather poorly for ignoring her, and hastily agree, while I'm not entirely certain what I'm agreeing with. "Oh, yes, of course."

Then Scarter ventures on to speak about how the gods were boring- as if! They were gods!- and how she thought they agreed they were boring, where I agreed about nothing of the sort (the nerve!). I shift my weight, rustling my wings, annoyance biting at me and her presumptuous nature. It does seem she does everything without bothering to use her intellectual insight. I wonder if it's worth fighting with her- but in any case, she's chattering on again. "Really? I didn't think they gave out quests anymore... maybe one day I'll find them."

I fall quiet, thinking silently.

"What is your quest? Perhaps I could help you?"