» every broken promise

Iskra Let it go, just let it be, you be you, and I'll be me Her aroma preceded her, so sweet and enthralling, that Iskra couldn't help but smile broadly as he turned his head to greet her approach. "Hey Mel!" he chimed as cheerfully as the current situation could allow, mindful that he kept his own aroma hidden, tightening his wings against his sides. As effervescent as her company made him, he was reminded once more of the dire straights they were all in existing in this realm, under the monster that tried to call himself a god. Iskra's smile faltered, and a glow seemed to leave his features as he curled back into himself thoughtfully. Though Melita said nothing sharp, her tongue was no less of an arrow, aimed at the heart of the matter. Survival wouldn't be enough. He was reminded of her words the last time they were together with Kaos, when he'd been so anxious to leave and do as bidden because it meant survival. "But don't you want to fight back? Don't you want to punish him for what he's done?" YES, Iskra had wanted to scream but was left instead speechless. He had turned to look at her then, saw her in a new light he couldn't recall her standing in before. Gone was the newly born babe on the desert sand, his questions about her egg shells that were missing forgotten. Though she was just as much of a child as him, their experiences had already aged them faster than most, it had hardened them. He'd felt a connection with her ever since first seeing her in that pure moment of vulnerability, a protective pull that bid him to watch over her in friendship and otherwise. Yet here she was, reaching beyond him, fierce in ways he'd grown blind to in his belief that she needed him. Iskra shook his head, trying to clear the droning buzz that echoed around him. It was as much Melita's magic as her words - and the fact she had spoken them. He wanted more than anything for them to return to familiar beaches to watch whales on a sunset horizon, to chase gulls across driftwood obstacles, to sneak around the temple lighthouse, evading an unamused tiger-striped mare. Why did they have to talk about survival, to wonder at the weaknesses of a false god that they wished to topple for the crimes he had committed against their hearts and their realm? Why couldn't it all go back? 'Stop'. The single command stilled Iskra's frantic mind, if for a moment. He turned a teal eye to the corner of his vision, spying the air-whale that drifted there. Their bond was so new that Iskra did not realize how unusual it was that the Leviathan would wander so far and so frequently from him. He did not realize that the whale was without a born magic, or that they did not communicate nearly as much as they should. He did not realize that in this, the Rift was taking even more from him. Castiel had a sense of it though, and even if he could not articulate it all, the wise beast would not let Iskra dissolve into the madness of want and why, but would remind him of his stronger moments, when the boy had conviction instead of doubt, when he had a resolve for justice instead of flappable cowardice. An eye for an eye might make the whole world blind, but letting others go around taking eyes without reaction was little better. You cannot simply ignore evil. Images of those last moments in Helovia leaked between their bond, flashing like a slideshow across the grain of Iskra's thoughts, dredging up memories he saved for his fitful sleep. Iskra's eyes widened in despair before they slammed shut, trying to hide from the devastation of his entire life; the bond persisted however, because it did not exist through the eyes alone. Castiel did not relent, not even when Iskra trembled and begged of the whale through their shared souls. 'Please,' Iskra moaned in the mind of the companion. 'Learn,' Castiel intoned, so stoic and serious even in his youth. Each fragment of the memories they shared of that terrible day seemed to say: He killed your mom, your sisters, your herd mates, and countless others. He destroyed your home. What will keep him from killing you just as easily? Iskra wouldn't help Kaos willingly because he held some hatred for the Deceiver in his gut, but he was too afraid to outright defy or ignore him, and just a crack of that strong voice was enough to warrant Iskra's knees to bend. He wanted to think it was peace that held his ire in his gut and kept it from his blood, that he would not attack Kaos purely for vengeance - isn't that what had caused Kaos to act in the first place? What Iskra had yet to decide however, was that he needn't act out of revenge, but he could surely take up the helm of justice. What Kaos had done was wrong, and there needed to be retribution for that. He hadn't made that decision though because he was afraid. Was that so wrong, to be afraid? What could he truly do against a figure that his mother could not face? What could he accomplish that so many other incredible horses in Helovia could not? Was it truly nothing more than ignorance that would separate their attempt from those of the dead? How could he bear the might of justice anyway? What exactly was it? He had seen versions of it, whether his mothers or others, but they frequently seemed self-serving; revenge with a different name more often than not. What would make him able to judge right and wrong? Iskra's ears flicked, listening to but not hearing Vulkan's and Kiada's words (death, nothing but death). He didn't even register the arrival of Clementine, might have missed Patrick even if he was paying attention. He was lost, tumbling amid the vast gray sea of his inner turmoil - at least until a smaller, softer voice tugged on him. Mauna One look at the small boy at his side reminded Iskra of something stronger than himself - purpose. It had been there when he felt crumbled and defeated in his birth with the Rift, and he had found purpose then in the whale that he had so earnestly protected and hatched, a life that he was responsible for. He had found purpose when he combat the phantoms that were threatening Melita, when he had raced to assist Eleos. He found it now, again, when he stared down at his small, innocent kin, when the massive threat of Kaos and the stain of all he had done loomed around them. Iskra would never find strength within himself - he would always find it within others. If he feared for himself so much that it rooted him with immobility and indecision, then he feared that much harder for Mauna, for Melita, for Castiel, and it was enough to drive action back into him. Iskra stirred, stepping closer towards his nephew, wings lifting faintly in a (smelly) protective manner across the small boy. "Careful Mauna," Iskra's voice cut off abruptly. He might have said more, might have done more to keep his nephew safe, if not for the ground's seizing. The earth bucked, and Iskra wavered on his feet, wings spreading for balance, crest feathers lifting as uncertainty prickled down his spine. His vibrant gaze latched onto Kaos with a worried light, ears flicking back at the strange words the monster intoned and the way the realm seemed to react. The bright light caused Iskra's head to bow away, shielding his view behind feathers that he tried to peer through, anxious to watch their demise a second time. As the blinding glow faded, Iskra was able to make out something he never could have imagined. "Mom," he breathed, tears at his eyes in an instant, ravaging his heart with both grief and joy. He had no notion of how misplaced it all was, not even as his eyes stroked the unnaturally teal colors of her hide, not even as he heard the violent snarl of electricity escaping the gaps in her form. Those details didn't matter because even with them Iskra knew, this was mom! He might have bolted out to her, might have run into the folds of her sides and blubbered apologies, if not for the arrival of another ghost. Loathe as he was to do it, his eyes left Ampere's form to hold another familiar figure, "Tae!" Iskra's voice withered as soon as he cried out, fully beholding her details, ones that seemed far less inexcusable than his mother's. Maggots shed from her form, and her voice was a mangled shout of hurt that caused Iskra to instinctively recoil into a defensive posture. What is happening? his thoughts echoed his nephew's query, no longer sure. Another ghost, familiar (Isopia), but it didn't matter to him as he was caught between the horrors of his mother and sister, both of whom were suddenly coming at them - or more specifically, at Zekle. Iskra's feathers bristled, and he shuddered as he listened to Zekle's chant of sorries, ones that echoed Iskra's thoughts, but they did nothing to still the advancing wrath of Ampere. Torn between starting to recognize there was something wrong and his own sputtering anger at Ampere's assault (when would it end?), Iskra was beginning to come out of his stupefied daze. It happened fast, so so fast, and yet the moment seemed to slow. Iskra could feel every second stretch on, could remember ever find detail of his mother's feathers cutting through the air, of his elder brother's command in the same moment that he stepped forward (so brave, he was always so brave). Already beside Mauna, Iskra didn't have far to go to shield the boy with his body, but the son of fire and lightning was focused more on his elder brother, on his mother, on his sister, and so Mauna slipped from his mind, lured by the siren of the Mountain. He didn't notice yet, too busy pulling the shield from between his wings with a tug of his magic, the air hot against his withers as he did so; honey wafted against his nose as he yanked himself from melita's solidarity and comfort. Dragon's Sun expanded with his will, the great steel shield enlarging rapidly. "NO MOM!" Iskra screamed somewhere amid the madness as he flung his (her) shield forward, attempting to block Zekle from her vicious attack with the metal protection she once proudly bore. Iskra wouldn't have enough time or energy to assist with Tae's assault, though Gaucho was invoked around his neck, the bone spikes sharply protruding and Iskra's body close to Zekle, his flesh as much as shield as the iron. He was too caught up in his family reunion to notice the rest of the chaos around them. He didn't see the white mare hurl herself at the Deceiver, nor the way Otem screeched at his defense (the background noise was just typical mayhem by now). He did not notice the way Otem and Vulkan and Volterra were lured towards Isopia, or how Mauna, snotty and sobbing raced for her either. He didn't see the monster pulled under by the souls he had helped dredged up, nor did he hear Isopia begging for Zekle. Iskra was panting, winded, having strained to keep concentration upon his magic and save his brother from their undead family. He was exhausted by the pounding of his heart against his chest, by the tears that tracked down his cheek as he stared into the face of his mother and forced himself to stay whole, something he likely only accomplished thanks to Lena's influences. Holding onto something we don't need All this delusion in our heads Is gonna bring us to our knees

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UM SORRY in short Iskra has a momentary internal crisis and conflict about wtf to do about Kaos' shit, before GHOSTS. Iskra throws his shield in front of Zekle to stop Ampere's attack, and also has his bone necklace out to maybe help take some of Tae's blows. Stays a bit more calm thanks to Lena.

Speaks to @Melita @Mauna @Zèklè
Mentions @Vulkán @Kiada @Patrick @Clementine @Otem