She was answered. Not by any divine means, no. But the muffled calls of distress from someone needing help. Ears swiveled to catch the sound, difficult to pinpoint until she caught the beat of rushing hooves. Already Zaffre was racing ahead of her, letting out a shrill chirrup to acknowledge the call and alert his own approach, leaving Smoke to limp after in a lop-sided trot that left her wincing every other step.

It was the blue who was there first, shooting a brief image back along to bond to pinpoint the destination for the grulla mare, a fleeting image of an open space with a hauntingly familiar figure standing in the middle of it. A figure with a huddled lump of white at its feet. It was to that limp form that Zaffre flew, crooning anxiously to his fellow dragon and essentially ignoring the stallion who shared her soul.

Barraged by the anxious cries, both physical and mental, from two males she cared for, Smoke hustled as best she could. Her voice rose in a ringing whinny, assuring her old friend that she was on her way. That she'd heard them, that she was close. That she would help.

"Lace!" The Wild Rose burst into the tiny clearing, coming to a ragged halt as she favored her left fore that was slowly oozing blood again, the wound reopened by her rush to get there. Her dark gaze found the silver grullo, then swung toward the fragile figure of his white, stained with blood and too, too still. Zaffre huddled over her, the blue tint of his nearly-white underside made noticeable in contrast to the stark paleness of his female counterpart. Two-toned muzzle sought out each puncture mark from a canine's bite, and a pale breast vibrated with a steady croon.

"Unconscious, not dead. Hope for her yet, so long as Zaffre does not start the death keen." While her voice was calm and assured, inside Smoke was anything but. A wild terror had risen in her, a panic-striken memory of another grullo stallion and the broken body of a dragon. But this was not Clip lying broken beyond repair, this was not Gunslinger, broken within by his dragon's loss. This was Lace, and this was Fajira, and by the Gods, Smoke would not let that happen again to someone she cared about!

A few authoritative strides, marred by the limp that caught at her again and again, and Smoke stood over the two dragons. "Be strong for her, Lace. She needs to know it will be okay when I pull her from the darkness." And then she was calling on a different sort of darkness, something purer and sweeter than oblivion or the deepest night. A darkness wound up with the essence of air, reminiscent of both a summer breeze and the raging of a winter's storm. "Please, Lady Moon, don't withdraw your favor now..." It was a whisper, just under her breath, a hope that whatever may happen in the tail end of the invasion, she could pull this one life away from the teetering edge of death.

The magic answered, surging up at her beckoning, winding through the intervening space between her muzzle and Fajira, pushed forward on an exhaled breath. A tendril of that wispy darkness danced over the white's body, lingering over each bloody mark on what had been a pristine hide. Inward, Smoke guided it, probing deep into each wound and seeking the damage caused. Muscles knit, blood vessels reconnected, internal organ gently guided back to where they should be, their hurts reversed. For what seemed an eternity she worked, body utterly motionless as every fiber in her being focused on helping this small dragon heal.

Breathe. A strong suggestion backed by the pressure of wind, coaxing lungs to expand with air, then contract. A magical reminder to the heart to beat, encouraging it to regain its normal rhythms. "Come back to us, Fajira. Lace needs you." Dark muzzle touched a crumpled pale wing, wrapping fragile bones in darkness, only to coax them back to where they needed to be.

Soft humming vibrated out of Zaffre from where he lay coiled around the outer edges of Fajira's body, the sound cloyingly familiar to the sound of a dragon encouraging a hatchling to fight for freedom. It made Smoke smile, knowing that the blue was doing everything in his power to encourage his flock-mate to come back amongst the conscious, the living.

LACE</style> No one can fill your shadow 'cause you are all I am </style> They came, the mare and her dragon, like spirits summoned from the swirling mist. Their voices joined the echoes of his wordless pleading and spread with the wind, shattering what little silence that could be found between the raging battles - some must be over soon, like his own, while others might be starting only recently. Any other day the gray stallion would have hurried onwards to find another foe, to aid his family and friends and beat back the invading forces. At any other time his own aches and bruises would have been forgotten against the threat the northerners posed, the burns ignored in favor for more exhilarating chaos. Not today. The battle had been wiped from his consciousness like hoof prints on a windy beach, erased by the all consuming worry for the little soul sister that bled out before his very eyes. He just barely registered the limp and the blood that marred the visage of the smoky mare as she hurried up to them, barely clipped an ear in annoyance as the blue Zaffre closed in on his friend. Lace said nothing in reply as Smoke assessed the damage and started working, only watched with eyes that spoke more than words ever could about the fears that clenched his heart. He wouldn't survive without Fajira. To someone who had never experienced the bond it would have been impossible to understand, but he knew that the healer beside him was fully aware of the implications the dragon's death would have. They weren't simply friends who had spent some years together. They didn't simply know each other on a level where words were unnecessary - the dragon and the horse had long since ceased being two separate souls. While they still retained separate personalities and views on certain things, they were essentially one spread over two bodies. For the dragon to lose the strength and stability of her earthbound bonded, for the stallion to be parted from the sensation of wind beneath widespread wings and dazzling sunlight high above alabaster clouds... It would ruin whichever part of them that would remain, should one be torn away. With a shivering breath he closed his eyes and focused on the part of him that connected with Fajira. The black void called to him, beckoning for attention while the hum of the Blue vibrated through the air - he allowed himself to fall into it, diving deeper than ever before in search of the one thing that kept him sane in the chaos that was life. It was a falling not entirely unlike the one they had experienced when dragged into the depths of the Heart, and like that time Lace kept searching for the bottom, for light and movement - any trace of the familiar flavor of freshly fallen snow, moonlight and pale bone, of marble and ice and the brightest sunlight that was her. The search was growing frantic as moments passed, his chest heaving faster and faster as black winds knitted the tissue of the dragon back together without doing anything to restore the mind; then he noticed something. A flicker, a twitch, like a movement behind the back just beyond the field of sight. Quick as a viper he latched on to it, cradled it in a mental grasp at once firm and endlessly gentle. It took effort to maintain it, even more to begin the long climb back up towards the hum of the dragon kin who acted as guide... The glimmering bloodstained scales shifted, barely noticeably. A weak, feeble breath expanded the chest, followed by a jarring cough that wracked the little body and sounded like she tried to expel her very lungs. Golden eyes snapped open and in a heartbeat he was there with a velvet nose, soothing and supporting as the cat-sized dragoness slowly returned to consciousness. Lace looked up, tears burning behind the eyes as he for the first time actually looked at Smoke, and with a single swift stride he slipped in beside her, neck reaching out to wrap her in a tight embrace that had a feeling of desperation to it. "Thank you" he whispered hoarsely and closed the eyelids tightly, unable to keep a tear of relief from rolling down the black cheek but still unwilling to see her reaction to the uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Thank you.. thank you.."

It had all been in the plan. To take from the north precious things - their children, their future - to lure them south, to irritate them enough that they would want to face the Edge directly, challenge them, and beat them. They did all that, and her warriors fought bravely, most of them defeating those they faced, and the ones who lost, won without sustaining huge damage unto their hides. As Akaith scouted the lands, Mirage pondered everything that had happened, repeating it over and over, sometimes criticising details in slow motion, other times seeing the whole picture in a large blur that delivered to her the vital information. Have we lost any, Akaith? The DragonHeart asked once more, as she had dozens of times already, wanting to know if the golden queen had come across any who were in critical need of aid. None dead besides your own opponent. The dragon replied quietly, reminding the WeyrLeader once again of her own actions. The battlelust, the rage.. the dragon had taken over, and she feared she had mauled the brother of the Valiant, Paladin's kin, whom he had introduced to her not a handful of seasons before. What would he do, or say? She would never hold it against him if he wished to leave, to desert her leadership, or perhaps even challenge for it, after such an offence. She would need to address him directly for it - better that than to have him find the dragon-mauled corpse in his wanderings as a Protector around the borders later on. Fajira! The voice was swift, worried, the tense emotions that rippled across the bond with it triggered the dark little mare straight into a speedy canter. Akaith, being the royal that she was, bonded to the leader of the herd, who also held draconic abilities, she had an innate sense of the general mood and wellbeing of the dragons of the herd. It had not been an instant realisation - distracted as she was with her own battle - but once her senses did come across the unconscious state of the little white she was so fond of, she immediately made to arrive at the scene. Mirage moved as swiftly as her limber legs could carry her, and it was with relief that she saw through Akaith's eyes the motion of Lace's embrace over Smoke, even as she felt within Akaith's mind the return to being as Fajira's mind stirred into existence once more. "Thank the Gods," Mirage's smooth voice breathed as she emerged from the surrounding brush, her attention focussed upon the little white before them. Akaith landed upon the ground alongside the mossy rock that the little bundle lay upon. With care, both dragon and horse reached out to nudge against the little white with a fond whicker and croon of encouragement and love. Akaith stayed by the recovering dragon, warbling a greeting to Zaffre in passing, as Mirage then moved to the side of Lace that wasn't pressed against Smoke. With tears lacing her honey warm eyes, she stretched her muzzle out to the grulla pair, one silver maned and one charcoal maned, offering her warm salutations. The guilt hit her.. she had hoped, assumed that they would all come out victorious and that none would be lost, and while that had happened.. it had come so close. Too close. "Lace, I am so sorry." She said, pressing her dark hide against his side, wanting to express her deepest feelings, but generally, she was unable to. With a shaky sigh, and a silent signal given to Akaith, to retrieve something she had kept aside for far too long, she spoke again. "Take this, she murmured when Akaith returned, with a glittering amulet of the Moon clutched between her claws. "Within it, lies my power to embrace the dragon within." Then her gaze shifted to Smoke, and she had no more words nor gifts to give, only her gratitude. With a nod, she acknowledged the work of the healer, one whom she could not be more grateful than now to call a member of her family. [ Mirage just gave Lace the Moon Amulet he earned a few months ago for awesome activity, imbued with her dragon transform magic. <3 ]

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LACE</style> No one can fill your shadow 'cause you are all I am </style> The crashing of underbrush and the worried crooning of a dragon announced the appearance of the queen, and as she came thundering into the small glen he lifted his head from the embrace to follow her with the gaze. The expression of relief on her face, the minimal greeting of the gilded dragon before she returned her attention to the recovering White, the exclamation of apology... Why was it that none of this seemed to touch him, like it normally would have done? Pain bolted through the raw skin as the side of the black mirage of a mare pressed against him, but Lace neither grimaced nor made a sound to make the Dragonheart aware of his injured state. Instead he just stared at the amulet in the talons of Akaith as she flew over with it, mind numbed even as he slowly, semi-consciously reached out and plucked it from the paw of the dragon. The weight of it between his lips felt nauseating. The look he gave the lady of the Edge was dull, dark; without a word the grullo broke free from the touch of both mares and linked off a few strides. "I hope you are satisfied now" he heard himself say and flinched, surprised by the cold bitterness of his own voice. "Congratulations Mirage. It was a game well played, no doubt about that." As he spoke the silver-maned equine felt his thoughts come back to him, and finally he was able to acknowledge the dull ache in his chest for what it was. Anger. It welled up from within like a black tidal wave, an emotion so strong that it lifted him up and washed him along, a rush growing stronger for every word he said. The amber eyes were hard as he turned to meet her gaze, burning with the cold rage he felt towards her. "Did it ever occur to you that the rest of us should have known what you were up to? Or did you think it unnecessary, that a bit of a heads up was too much to ask before you decided to start provoking the Basin?" A surge of power rose up within, and without even thinking about it the Glazier began to wield the gift he had been given upon setting foot on the Moon's territory for the first time. From the air itself he plucked the glittering starlit mist and mixed it with the dark shadows that swirled around their feet, molding and shaping it even as he spoke. "Why did you have to involve the children, Mirage? I thought you wanted this world to become one of equality and peace, not pushed further into the clutches of war. Well sorry, I think you just took a long step away from that goal - congratulations to ruining yet another generation of young by using them as pawns in your intrigues." The voice was cold as the night that surrounded them, each word cracking like a sheet of ice breaking beneath merciless hooves. And all the while the darkness thickened around him, slowly shaping itself in a massive effort fueled by anger, disappointment, guilt and jealousy. It had taken the form of a circle now, one that slowly, steadily tightened and closed in on itself - black, glittering, sharp and heavy as lead. Dragons appeared from the swirling shadows, black wraiths that flew and crawled, biting and clawing and breathing glittering pale flames amidst barren trees, round and round in the circle, and all above them shone the full moon; cold and distant, merciless. Between a breath and the next it solidified, and with the last measure of control he had over the process Lace chucked it towards the one mare he had come to love, with all the grim determination he possessed. Towards her head it soared, a crown of glass as black as the night with the weight of the responsibility she held over their lives - which she in his eyes had forgotten about in her schemes. Towards the poll it lowered, a perfect fit between and around her chiseled ears, and unless she retracted the head it would land quietly and come to rest on her head, a mark of the status she held and the power she had over them all. "Thank you, my Queen, for concerning yourself with the lowly lives of ours" he snapped with icy voice, the neck lowering in a mocking bow. "Now if you excuse..." He turned the back on her and padded over the moss-covered ground towards the place where his other half lay, nose reaching out to brush over her lithe frame before he scooped her up, ignoring the weak protest against being separated from Zaffre and Akaith. "I hereby renounce my position as Glazier of the World's Edge" he said, and felt how something lifted from the shoulders, like a mantle slipping off leaving him lighter than before. "I will be gone from the Edge for a while... Don't come looking for me. I don't want to see you for a while." And with that the stallion turned and walked away, back stiff and ears back - still too angry to even start to regret the harsh words he'd said.

He pulled away from her. The little mare made to follow him, but only got so far as to lift a hoof and barely begin to lean her weight forward before he turned and stared at her. Akaith trilled above, a tense and unhappy note, despite the relief of Fajira's consciousness returning. The little golden queen was reacting to the waves of anxiety, and even fear, that was rolling through the heart of her bonded. Breathes became rushed and shallow, and as he began to speak, her worst fears were realised. Mirage had always been hesitant to trust. Her heart yearned to give its affections to many, and did so now, despite her lifetime of training to deny it its pleasure. All her life she had worked to hide her emotions, her cunning mind figured that if she exposed herself to no-one (aside from Akaith, of course), she would live longer, survive this world. Always she had been a creature of solitude, finding solace in the company of only her dragon, and on rare, delightful occasions, her family. Then she had ventured to Helovia. The little shadowmare had felt emotions too strong to ignore, too powerful to contain. They had ruled her, torn away her façade of stony indifference. That mask slipped back into place now - it was her default reaction to a threat to her peace, her happiness. All the emotions drained from her face, even her eyes could only stare in similar hard blankness that he gave her. It hurt, it cut deep, deeper than any wound ever would. She loved him, adored him, treasured him for his way of always highlighting her faults, helping her through tough times, and supporting her when she needed it. Truth be told, it had been Lace who had inspired the mare into action. He was restless, and he had spoken of striking the enemy before they had a chance to strike against them. Mirage hadn't wanted to drag the innocent youths into the fray, of course she hadn't - but how else was she to get their attention? They needed to make an impression upon the Basin, a threat that would hit home just how fed up the Qian was with the plague of death and destruction that had been washing through their family. The DragonHeart had hoped for a diplomatic discussion - hoping that the Basin would send an envoy instead of an army - it was a foolish hope, she knew, but she also had faith in her warriors preparedness to meet and defeat the attack. The crown landed upon her poll with a dull thud, the mare bent her own façade down, as if cringing away from it. She closed her eyes a moment, as if to escape the harsh reality that was her friend's love turning into a burning hatred. Her heart steeled itself that little bit more, instead of a fire of warmth and love, it became more like a dragon's hide - scaly and impenetrable. Akaith warbled a farewell to Fajira, and when Mirage opened her eyes once more, he was gone. The little mare breathed again, before daring to look at Smoke. Everything Lace had said, she agreed with - that was the most heart-wrenching thing. With an impenetrable expression, she merely offered the healer a nod, before murmuring in a voice she wasn't sure was entirely her own any more; "Thank you, Smoke. I shall keep scouting the borders for those who need your services, and send Akaith to Zaffre if we need you." The mare pulled away then, adopting the tricks she had learned before she had learned of magic - a simple matter of stealth and subtlety.

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