Ordinary she may have been once, but this was no longer true of the shade. Perhaps she did not bear Riekahn's mark, but that did not mean she was unaccomplished in his ways. Would he look upon her with pride now? Or would he forever be unimpressed by her accomplishments? Surely her work, her ideals, her formidable presence in this land would bring some scant approval; in contrast, her darling brother had done nothing but bed a hornless and give birth to his many hybrid children. Riekahn would have had his horn, not that it mattered now. Perhaps one day, the DarkEmpress would take it for her deceased father. Or perhaps, to spite him, she would allow Paladin to keep his horn and his life. After all, she had never been particularly close to the crimson king. Quite the opposite, actually.

And yet still she carried on his work.

Though she did not set out to mock the Valiant, she was unable to tell that he had taken her words as such. His rather sour greeting was taken as his normal reaction to her appearance - after all, had she ever held a real conversation with him? And of course he would not be overly fond of her, seeing as she sought to eradicate all of those he held dear. She gave a mental shrug, no remorse present. He would fall, and his hornless mate, and all their children (though she was quite fond of Ophelia, for all their differences). Ktulu, perhaps, had drawn a target on her back by disrespecting her aunt, but the ivory fae had always shown the utmost kindness to the Lady of the Basin. It was a trait that the shadow-mare appreciated, seeing as she sought to rule the world. And rulers were made to be worshipped.

"Well, I wasn't trying to find you, darling," she responded, a teasing smile lifting the corners of her mouth. He looked old, she realized, taking stock of the silvered hairs and the myriad scars. She didn't let that fool her, though; he was likely just as dangerous as ever. After all, he had not been promoted so highly in their father's army for nothing. Once upon a time, he had been something to respect, perhaps even something to fear, but even knowing this, the DarkEmpress found herself smugly confident.

She was preparing a biting response to his rather snarky interrogation when his attention shifted; his shout both surprised and infuriated her, and as he lunged for her she reacted by attempting to dodge away. It was a belated movement, and he connected forcefully with her side; she stumbled away, throwing her head up as though to regain her balance. "What in the hell -?" she began furiously, but halted when she set her orbs upon the monster in the shallows. Reaching for - her horn?? Amber orbs shifted to stare blankly at Paladin, who bore no love for her. Pondering his desire to save her most prized possession would come later, but for now, she would have to fight with him. She jerked her cranium out of the way again, instead aiming a bite to the tentacle, all the while staying out of her half-brother's way. It would do her no good to attempt to help and get stabbed by him in the process.

"Talk talk talk."

She did not have the chance to respond to her half-brother's question, but perhaps that was for the best, for she did not really have a reason for her wanderings. Or, at least, she did not have a reason that she was willing to share. She could speak of worry; she could speak of fear. Perhaps these things would even serve to gain his respect, for surely Paladin would understand her desire to protect her herd and her feelings of dismay and inadequacy in the unknown that the endless night brought. But to her, they spoke of weakness, and she would not reveal such to the brother that she considered with such scorn, for he had walked away from their father's teachings. Walked away from the right path, the correct beliefs. He had sinned, in her eyes, and it was a sin that she could not forgive.

But perhaps she would not hold it against him, either.

Fear was the dominant emotion in her now, though, with all the other worries pushed aside. The fact that the creature targeted her horn terrified her, for what would she be without her crown? How could she lead her organization without its promise of superiority? No, if this monster took her most prized decoration, she would be no better than a hornless. No better than a skyrat. She would almost be worth less, for she would have proven herself incapable of protecting her tiara. Perhaps the creature would be given more than a pretty trinket, should it succeed: it would also be given the shade's life.

Paladin's voice rang out, and almost without thinking, she dropped her head to follow his command. Perhaps it was that he spoke with the authority of a general, or perhaps it was simply a recognition that her self-preservation depended in part on him, but she did not question him, nor did she resent that he took the lead. Instead, she dodged out of his way as he took the lead on the attack, and then she whirled around, hoping to keep her horn out of reach as she struck out with her hind legs toward the glowing scales, hoping only that Paladin was right.

"Talk talk talk."

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun.

And her brother, scorned for so long, was the one to thank for her life. Oh, how she hated him for the debt that he had placed her in! But that emotion was nothing to the surprise that filled her as a horned, equine-shaped light nods to her in thanks, not to Paladin, who was truly the hero of the situation, though she would not admit as much. A small orb of light flickered through the darkness, coming to rest upon a feather in her mane, and for a moment, she felt as though someone had dumped frigid water on her spine. The feeling passed as quickly as it arrived; the spirit galloped into the night, leaving them with only the glow of the algae along the shoreline and the newfound luminance from the jackal’s feather.

It was an odd sensation, and the knowledge of her actions did not fully register until Paladin’s voice cut through the night. Trapping spirits? The thought was met with an indignant snort, for what creature would dare to trap the ghosts of the superior race? If it were true, then she had done the right thing by the star now tangled in her banner, and perhaps there was a bit of satisfaction in the deed. There would be time to consider later, however; for the time being, she simply nodded to Paladin’s instructions and joined him in an attempt to trample the monster’s back, though she thought it a rather pointless exercise, as the beast seemed quite dead to her.

There was not hard cracks emanating from her hooves, and it was quite eerie to realize that she had broken bones on accident, without realizing what she had done. She had always been in control, before, always known the murders that she committed. Of course, self defense was not murder, and she wouldn’t really care either way, but she was oddly touched by the spirit clinging to her banner now, oddly possessive of its former owner, and she wanted desperately to punish the squishy creature bleeding beneath her hooves.

Perhaps it was overkill, but the Empress rose again and again, bringing her weight down on the beast’s back. A different curse rings out, disguised as a snort, with each pounding thump of her hooves. You will not take what is not yours, her actions seemed to say. You will not attack me, and you will not attack my brethren, for they deserve better than your evil killing. Finally, she backs away, watching warily for signs of movement. ”Do you think it’s dead?” And for once, there is no trace of hatred or sarcasm in it.

"Talk talk talk."