let's hear the sound of madness

swallowed by a vicious, vengeful sea

She arrives in a murky chasm—a tear in time, somehow alive, snarling, ripping, shredding at the world behind her hooves like a beast—for a moment there is abyss at her heels, and then she is flung into the soggy muck of another world. A world between worlds. Her withers slam into a spindly, though stalwart, tree and her momentum is hindered with a choke of pain, the area smarts and Cahira is only dimly aware of it as she stumbles a few more shaky steps away from the flora. Like the rapids of a river her vision swims, whirls around in a bewildering medley of tears and mist, and then she sees them.

He’s mourning, too, though unlike her there isn’t any blood on his skin, and he doesn’t stench like battle and sweat, there’s lightning veined through his inklike coat too, but all she can see is the mare, and her heart thrums in her throat and she feels like howling, pouring all her affection and joy into words, but all she can manage is a croak.
"Mother..."

And then her view settles. The joy, the relief, pours down into her heart like rain, changes, threatens to drown her in something new. Azarel had held her in his grasp, at the end of a metaphorical chain, he’d held them both. But she knew the Lightningborne’s face like the crimson down her spine and this, this was only like her, exuded the very spirit of her. Yet the lines at her face were wrong, the burden of the things she’d seen. she’d carried, in her very presence was wrong, she was a filly, not a mare, and Cahira’s throat threatened to suffocate her. There was a noose around the latch of her throat and she ached. “You… who… who are you?”

She had no time to careen out more words, more desperate pleas for knowledge, in the next moment her knees hit the mud and she was on the boy’s level, now, a soft tormented wheeze echoed from her maw and—Nótt, Dagr!—where were they, like a match to kindling the very essence of her mind was on fire. Nótt and Dagr, they were gone, the lack of their company inside her head driving her nearly frantic, “M-m-my soul,” she wanted to bellow, wanted to snarl, I am life, I bring life, roared the voice through the woods, and she flinched. “This is death,” she breathed, the sinew of her sides convulsing with misery as thick as the canopy of leaves above their heads.

Cahira

Jyrki Salmi

Magic:
Passive :: [ Magic: Light | Sports a seraphim halo above her head. The light it exudes pulsates gently with her emotional state. ] 
:: [ Restrictions | Unquestionably useless and uncontrollable. Provides very scant light in terms of circumference. ] 

Enchanted items:
None

Rift-god / Kaos items:
None

Amulets:
None

Companions: 
None

Species change (if applicable):
None

Requests: Her normal item, and if possible, a mention of what happened to her companions when she came through the Rift, since they weren't from Helovia! (I wasn't sure if the magic should go here, since she wasn't on Helovia, but had it on a different site.)
:: [ Item: Horn Jewelry | A silver ring encircled around the base of her horn, with a slim, blue gray chain dropping from under it, carrying a slight silver saucer with a star sapphire embedded inside. A gift from her mother, through Azarel, her brother. ]