» Hauntings & Healings

Was it the appeal of familiar lands, even if they were inherently unfamiliar under the strange lights and atmosphere of the rift, that drew the dragonmare to them? It was foolish, the comforts of a memory, of a realm so certainly, so severely lost to them all - was it any wonder, really, why she came back?

Perhaps she was only capable of wandering in great circles, of revisiting old haunts in the hopes of seeing something new, of learning something different, something that would turn the clock back and restore what was, what had been, to what is, what will be.

But it wasn't to happen, it wasn’t possible, even if the dragonmare hoped for it at her very core, her very soul. The hope itself was so deeply rooted within her, she hadn't even realised it was there, until yet again she arrived at this familiar land, her hooves standing on this familiar loam, watching with ever-observant eyes the familiar way the mists rolled between the trees, the stalks, the leaves.

Only, it wasn't mist.

Amaris was too far away from the rest of them to know what was happening. She was too far away, too lost in her own mind besides, to realise that the mists reaching out for her, forming the face of one she loved and missed so dearly, reaching out to touch her, to embrace her, to hold her up again the tide of despair she had been fighting to hide, to control, to quell and subdue, (to survive).

Mother, Mirage, the DragonHeart, the WeyrLeader, the Queen, stood before her, seemingly a devious black mare in one breath, and a fantastic golden dragon in another.

The dragonmare could not stop herself, could not stop her steps as they brought her form nearer to this image of her mother, of the mare she both loved and hated, loathed for leaving her, for abandoning her, for thinking she was strong enough to face this world alone, helplessly, hopelessly alone…

But she wasn't alone.

Dramyrth's presence came crashing down upon her consciousness then, strong and defiant, bold and brazenly loud and sure. LIES! he cried, he roared, his fury burning through her senses, alighting her, incensing her to realise the truth of this apparition, this ghost of a memory, of a desire. Had her dragon had breath to scorch or freeze this demon, he would have, but the rift had stolen that from him - so he screamed and roared and flew at it instead.

And Amaris, awoken from her stupor, from her reverie, reacted to his fury, and summoned a single spirit with her magic to cast its light upon the situation, to breathe its fire and destroy that which would otherwise cause harm. Together, they chased this demon through the Labyrinth, deeper and deeper still, until she became aware of the others, of the crowd, of the God, like the tiger, making changes to the land (healing it?).

It was all she could do not to lose her mind and follow the spirits to their ultimate end on the God's great gaping mouth as well.

A m a r i s

darya87 | whimzi
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