Rough muscle and fur underneath brazen hooves, the Illuminant pushes away from this shadow monster, toward her safety, toward sanctity. If the pegasus mare accomplished nothing more upon this day, Belial would leave here with regret. Regret he could not pluck an angel from the sky. Absent her mentor, her mother, her Sun, the painted little beauty is proving the inner grit of her heart. No wound, no mere slice of flesh, can ruin the strength of her soul upon this day.
Damned be this shadow; the light of a strong heart will not be overcast so easily.

She pushes away from his grasp, a breath of relief surging from her gut, the tensing of her facial muscles screeching with pain. A cheek so pale it once mimicked clouds in the summer sky, now awash with a violent blush and mixed with the string of salty tears. Tears, not of a broken heart, not of a beaten body, but of joy. Onni is alive. What a miracle, it would seem.

Wings flutter, claw, tear at the air, and it is the movement of her very own demon which saves the delicate limbs from being speared through. The foolish stallion follows like a true shadow, but for all of the hatred the unicorn may have for Onni's kin, he attempts to try their trademark skill - flight.

For one, awful moment, Onni believes that he will ascend, spear her through. His horns slice upon the flesh of her receding forelegs, tearing the burned flesh, searing pain blinding her vision for the moment he begins to fall. Lack of sight is not what tells the shaman of his retreat, but the absence of his attack furthering. Overextending his body, the giant topples, and as the sky blue eyes open in the night, the mare notes how he plummets. She half expected the world to crumble beneath him, the ShadowKing recalled to Hell. Instead, he merely looks a foolish plaything for a few moments.

If only he had stayed upon the ground.

As she descends, his body begins to move, rising, tumultuously moving, and the painted girl's eyes narrow in concentration, Lyhty sounding a trill from the skies - don't do it! he pleads, wishing not to see her fall so close to the ground. The desperation of her companion forces her hand, and Onni begins to flair her wings, but not in time. Her body is moving quickly, her descent had been locked, and now she must think fast. Wings tilt, right wing tilting downward, body curving suddenly, wavering in the air, yet her path switches. Flight is parallel to the ground before she catches herself, allowing the streak of muddy brown and pristine white speckled with crimson to curve right in a loose spiral. The sudden stop aches her stressed wings, which have been carrying the beauty for most of this fight now. They save her from becoming a mess of blood, bone, and flesh upon the floor. Unfortunately, not even the shaman can avoid the quick lash of hooves which batter her right barrel near the midsection, causing breath to claw from her lungs, causing a flash of pain to tear into her brain, and certainly a fresh bruise to accompany her other injuries.

What victory can be won from violence?
What victory would that be?

Flight curving, Onni brings herself closer toward the earth, trying to straighten in the air, hooves catching haphazardly on the loose sand. The Illuminant skids, stumbles, tearing up crimson sands from the floor. Eyes flowing clear tears, the mare turns determined toward the opponent. Large, strong, rough, and crazed, likely. What made her any different? Hooves take to running, radiating the pain from her wounds through her once graceful movement, speeding forward, wings folded against her sides. Onni, what are you doing? the voice from above in her mind, but do not reach her. Then, another voice, one she had no heard in far too long - it comes like a slap across her face.

"Do not taint your kind heart with the desire to make another suffer; leave such matters in the hands of those which are already bloody."

You have a choice. Forgiveness or a tainted heart.
When the crossroad road comes, what will you do?

Legs clamor to a halt, body reeling backward as sand flies forward, wings shoving from her sides and swirling even more clouds of crimson for her to stop. Stop before she collides once more with this Shadow in the night. "I am sorry," the mare bellows in the night, hiding in the mists of crimson and nightfall. But, just who is she talking to?
Just who is listening?

[ WC: 792; 4/4; 1/2; Onni is using buffs SWIFT and BULK.
You can treat the sand-cloud as an attack? xD Otherwise, there really isn't one here. :| ]