Victory.

It had been the plan all along. To lure them, to taunt them, to tickle them, irritate them, annoy them and snag their attention. To gain a reaction from them, a reaction that they could control to their will. To face the fiends on the icy shelves of the North would have been foolish, it was best to lure them down, on grounds that they had once lived but did not know so well, and crush them in defeat. Crush indeed they had, with the majority of her warriors coming out unmet in battle or otherwise victorious. There were certainly some wounds to attend to, though Mirage's own bruised bodice would heal in its own time. Akaith murmured from her aerial view above her beloved, as they walked, alone but together, in the wake of the battle. Vikram had gone South to see the safe return of the youth of the Edge. Vaguely mirage became aware of the lack of prisoners that walked her woods - she figured they must have used what shred of intelligence they had left and fled the lands in the distraction of the failed invasion. Truly, it did not bother her.

Had they not proven their strength? Surely those who would oppose them would think twice now. The Edge had risen victorious despite the Basin having taken measures to ensure they had extra warriors hailing from the Foothills to aid them. And still, the Qian won. She knew she would have to leave her home soon, and deal with the leaders of the Grey - she was as yet unaware of the recent shuffle in leadership there. The mercenaries did not scare her, they were not successful in their previous attempts to steal her members and nor were they successful here. She had some small token of respect for Ophelia, for the pale maiden had taken the time to at least speak to Mirage, but actions spoke louder than mere words, and the Grey's actions had been foolish to say the least.

In this world of eternal moonlight, Mirage walked, breathing her surrounds, the home she had earned the right to call her own at least twice now. As always, her eyes are drawn to the celestial body that has reined supreme in the skies for an uncountable amount of days recently. But the Moon has reined supreme in the heart of the mare since her night of birth, and though Mirage mourned her absence, she was the first to return to the lands, to bless them all with her ethereal, muted light once more. Did that make her the strongest, the greatest? No, but perhaps the most cunning. Mirage respected all of the Gods for what they were, but she truly loved, adored and gave thanks to the Goddess of the Moon, the celestial Lady Luna.

A vibration seemed to travel over and through the lands, the very mists seemed to grow excited, the shadows around her began to dance and swirl with a life of the own. The golden dragon flew down from her heights above to land upon the tender back of the WeyrLeader, crooning softly as the very trees seemed to whisper her name. With some semblance of fluid grace that was stiffened by her recent clash with Donovan, the shadowy mare went where her heart pulled her, finding her way not with her eyes and ears, but with the melody that sung to the very fibres of her being. It was comparable to the bond that was between her and her golden dragon, deep and indescribable, but without a doubt, present, true and strong. Mirage lived for her family, for her mate, her daughters, her siblings. But Mirage existed for the Moon Goddess. Everyone in this herd put their faith in her, and she her best to be true to them, to earn that faith and trust. She in turn put that adoration to the Moon Goddess.


The violet outline of her Goddess became clear, the mists seemed to pour from her very bodice, the shadows seemed to rejoice in her presence. Happiness and relief flared up in the mare, for to see her Goddess always brought her joy, and to see her alive despite everything she had heard occurred with their battle over a rift, brought her relief. "My Lady," Mirage's silky tones delivered the words with much reverence, as if to breathe in her presence was an honour in itself. Nape curled as her tiara lowered down, even Akaith upon her withers bowed her draconic crown down to the Goddess. "The Edge rejoices your return."