I listen to the words of my smaller sister, pursuing the train of my little shadow's mind with a fond smile and a wry strain of amusement. Oh, the tales of our parents, the balance of fire and shadow that had created the balanced twins, the little shade... and me, the odd one, the one who made no claim to their blood and yet had inherited both of their natures. I can see them in her sister, especially my lovely mother; Mirage's voice is the echo of Anei, her shadowy nature a split image of our dam. It makes me love her all the more, and I smile at my sister's enthusiasm, remembering our mother; I listen to the command, and smile indulgently, following my sister's gaze to where Akaith hovers. The dragon is a brilliant silhouette against the vibrant blue sky, a graceful twist of long tail and strong wings. I wonder if the egg about my neck will hatch into a creature as lovely as Akaith. There is no doubt in my mind that it will.

The roar of dragon fire is followed by a sudden blinding silence, and I blink furiously against the dark patches that flutter before my eyes, ear slashed back and dry amusement welling beneath the irritation. I know what she will say even as she says it; I have thought of this myself, and it pleases me that my little sister's ideas aligned with my mind so well. She voices the query, her prying tones a sudden throwback to when we were children, and I took it upon myself to educate her on all the intricacies of the world. It touches something deep in my heart, a string of tenderness I reserved for my siblings. Here, in the solitude of the roof of the world, I let myself indulge in the emotion. "I think you are on the right track," I murmur proudly, the words heavy and thick in the dry air, "Darkness and light are forever intertwined." For a moment they are fillies, and she is asking if there is an end to the ocean, and I am telling her that no, it goes on forever. I gaze across the lip of the butte, out across the sea, only turning back to Mirage as she speaks again.

Excitement rings in her tender voice, a vibration of joy against her calm nature, and again I smile at the pathways of her mind. The curious nature of her explanation rings true against the weight of my own musings; it is an interesting pursuit, the idea that ash is dark. Is darkness all that has been destroyed, all that has been abandoned to rot against the raw and scorched earth? Behind fire there is death, ashen disaster left in the wake of consuming flame. Her murmur of shadow is left behind in this thought, for where I had seen the world of shade and light before, the physical darkness was a road I had yet to investigate. I peer about the scorched plateau, dark eyes reflecting on the damage done by the Sun's wrath. Day and night are opposites in each other but they have always been concepts to me.

This changes things.

"How many types of darkness are there?" I ask absently, thoughts racing. "There is the dark of night, the shadow cast by light and the abyss left in its absence. There is the physical dark of the burned earth, of crumpled leaf and drowned animal. And finally there is the emotional dark of doubt or sorrow, of deep thought and blissful sleep." And they are all connected. They are all facets of one and the same. I turn back to Mirage, a sudden fire burning in my eyes, an eager anticipation to match her own. In the way I might have when we were fillies, I smile at her and nudge her with my tones - "Tell me, Mirage, what do you see that connects these things, what similarity is thereto be found? What is a shadow - light, or its absence?" I await her response eagerly, shifting my weight beneath the overbearing heat. Without light, we cannot see darkness; but without the depth of shadow, we could never appreciate light.

But what is its source? Is it light? Or something else? Was I overthinking this? Perhaps Mirage was right, and I simply looked too far, seeking a source that could not be defined, placing too many realms of darkness into one arrangement. Which one does she seek the knowledge of?