His tread wasn't careful or quiet, but neither did it demand attention.

No, it was the comfortable movement of one who was home. 

The flickering light that lined the arched corridors leading to the throne room was like an embrace, the shadows that deepened along the high ceilings and swept along the floors, devouring his hooves and blackened locks even moreso. It was refreshing, the return to the keep nestled in the lands that Calligo had carved out for them, her gift to her devoted, wild children. Camdis could not help the smile that curved at his lips and the joy that brightened his eyes, the delicious sense of belonging that wrapped loving arms about his shoulders. 

He wondered if Calligo was as happy to have him as he was to have her. 

Passing by a bay of open-air windows, their glassless lengths stretching from floor to ceiling, the healer-to-be paused to admire the endless blanket of stars that filled the skies. In his youth, Camdis had been fascinated by the differing shades of night, the way the moon could blot out the stars with her light, or narrow herself to a sliver, a winking eye in a sea of fireflies. Now he wondered if he had been drawn to them because he was destined to be here, in the Court of his beloved Calligo, if his wounded heart had always known where he would end up. 

Maybe when he again made the trek to that mountain temple, his goddess would tell him whether his suspicions were true. 

Continuing on, thick mane and tail swish swishing along the polished floors, the horned stallion at last came upon the massive entryway into the throne room, the seat of Calligo's chosen sovereign. Camdis had heard his name whispered through the halls and the courtyards of the palace, and his curiosity had washed over him in a wave - who was the great King of Night? Would he accept Camdis, stained as he was with past mistakes that were not his own to claim, but his all the same?

Slowing to a stop before the empty dais, Camdis waited, feeling as if a cry out would be disrespectful at the least and blasphemous at the worst. 

It was time for the Exile King to bow before his superior. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

So this was it. 

A small, sad smile played over the stallion's full, darkened lips as he stood upon the sands, gazing out at the sea with the lowering sun casting golden nets of light upon his back. He stood there in silence, shadow stretching long before him and reaching out to the hissing waters like a child reaching for their mother. Ah, but the mother retreats again and again, leaving behind her brood, came his bitter thoughts, brow creased and eyes heavy with the weight of something akin to resentment. Camdis Lohir wondered yet again what it could have been to stay behind, to be a father to his children, to not know regret with every beat of his heart and loathing with every breath. 

The mother returns, though, again and again. The father, on the other hand...

His thoughts trailed off as his throat became thick, emotion clogging his ability to breathe for a moment before he clamped those tumultuous eyes shut, shoving it all away. Yes, he was running from the past that still dogged his heels. Yes, he would continue to ignore the grieving process. Yes, he would convince himself that he was doing the right thing when everything in his wretched heart screamed that he was wrongwrongwrongwrong like a distorted lullaby. 

No, he was never going to face those voices and he would never face his own heart. 

Some demons lurked too close to the truth, and some truths were too big, the drop too far, the depths too deep. 

Camdis Lohir feared what would happen the day his past caught up to him.

But for now, here, on the edge of the world, he would find what respite he could. He would release what he could into the salt and foam of the sea and pray that it did not return to him, as the sea did the shore. He would pray that eventually, somehow, he could be free of himself. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

It was nearing, whatever the magic wanted him to experience.

His time with the relatively companionable presence would be coming to a close, and he wasn't sure how to feel about such a departure. Of course, he had known from the beginning that it was not a permanent magic, that it was not something that he would be saddled with for the rest of his life. Yet that did not change the fact that he had grown used to the ebb and flow of the little silk string that was anchored in his chest. It didn't mean that he had started to draw comfort from it when he got lonely in his travels - and gods knew that the stallion got lonely often enough. 

Many thought that his self-imposed exile was selfish, and maybe it was, but it was also painful. Camdis Lohir, first of his name and first of his kind, Twin Soul, Lone King, Bastard Monarch; the list went on, each name growing more cruel, more mocking as his citizens, his people continued to see what a failure he was without the counsel of his Sister-Queen. At times, he had wanted to fall to his knees before his nation, to beg them to understand that he had no choice in the matter, that he had been weak and blind and half dead at his birth. He had no voice, he had no control, he hadn't wanted Camdis' life to be traded for his own. 

He never asked for this mantle, never asked for this crown, never asked to be the creature that was forced to break tradition and bow to the agony that had ripped his soul from the moment he sat the throne. 

But he knew that it would have been futile to explain. They thought him weak, and so he was. They thought him cruel, and so he was. 

Once, he had loved his people, loved them more than he could fathom. Once, he would have died for his people, would have splattered what had remained of his blackened, wretched heart across the razor edges of his crown and died grinning, knowing that in that action, he had not failed. 

The stallion scoffed and shook his head, who was he fooling? Once, was no thing of the past, he would continue to love for his nation, to ache for them, to feel their absence so sharply that at times it felt as if he couldn't breathe. 

His hooves slowed to a stop, silvery eyes gazing out at the plain but seeing nothing beyond his guilt and his bitterness and his betrayal. He had been a mistake and he had been a terrible one. He had left his children and his wife to govern a kingdom that would rip them to shreds if they had the chance, all because he was too weak to wear the crown that he had been painted in his own twin's blood for. 

"To hell with it. To hell with everything."
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

"Relic? Relic magic, come on. I don't want to stumble upon a tryst."

The stallion winced against the scent of lust and the sounds of mammalian pleasure that drifted through the mists of the creek. As soon as Camdis had stepped within the borders of the realm, he had been hit with a heady aroma that was as unmistakable as his own and he had cringed at the realization. At first he had dug his hooves in, jerking his horned head back and downright refusing to move any further into the sexually charged - albeit beautiful - territory. Yet, the relic's magic had insisted, practically yanking on the male's heart and leaving him gasping in not-quite-pain. 

"Fine," He had finally assented, his face fixed into an expression of petulance and reluctance. Now, keeping his silvery eyes glued to the smooth earth directly in front of his hooves as he bumbled along, the stallion grumbled endlessly about the relic and it's seemingly futile magic. It wasn't as if Camdis was a virgin - he had children, for Tempus' sake - but the stallion wasn't much for witnessing the activities of others. Gritting his teeth as a particularly suggestive cry rang out, the bloodied bay found that he was endlessly thankful for the thick fog that blocked all others from view. 

"This is ridiculous," he mumbled, immediately hoping that he hadn't been heard by any of the parties participating in what the surroundings intended. 

"This is ridiculous," he whispered fervently in the general direction of his chest, where he had decided that the magic was most likely to linger, "I don't want to get laid you idiot, get us out of here."
                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Upon the mountain, within the arms of the gods, all else fell away. 

Hooves clacked and echoed noisily against the stone walls and floor of the cathedral, and Camdis Lohir wished briefly that his steps were lighter, for it seemed a wretched thing to disturb the holy silence of such a place. Despite the fact that he had been lead here along treacherous, frigid trails and passes by the yank of the relic's magic, Camdis felt the mantle of Caligo's love press onto his shoulders. While he had skimmed through the history of Novus in a dusty old tome that he had discovered in Denocte's keep, he had yet to commune with his beloved demi-goddess. Despite this, though, his heart ached and yearned for her attentions, for the affection and validation from a deity that he had only accepted as a part of his heart and soul a handful of days ago. 

Silvery eyes misted over, tears threatening to spill over his black and scarlet painted cheeks as he thought upon the strife that had waylaid his Caligo. Camdis knew all too well what it was to be unwanted and what it was to attempt to push past the resentment of others and appeal to one's own better nature. 

He also knew what it was to fail, and to ruin things in the process.

"Caligo," He whispered to the torch-adorned halls, their fire flickering to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, "I am one of your children, I am one of your own." There was a pause as his throat grew thick with emotion, brow creasing in frustration as he struggled to bring the words forth, "Please, if there is anything I can do to serve you or our people better, please, tell me."

In the shadow of the Most Holy, the relic's magic had been cast aside. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

His inner compass would not guide him here, not within the labyrinthine halls of the forest that sprawled over Delumine's Southern territories. Graciously, the magic that pulled at his heart did not make him stray from the well worn paths that twined through the trunks and boughs of the wood. For while he would not die of starvation, the stallion may very well go mad if he were to be trapped among the verdant sea. Already, he had been strolling along the trail for the better part of the day - well, it felt like the better part of the day, it wasn't as if he could see the sky between the thick canopy of emerald and brown that tangled above his head. Despite the closeness of the forest, however, Camdis didn't feel suffocated or uncomfortable. Rather, there was a reverence that was cradled in his chest, the awe apparent on his otherwise expressionless face as he gazed up, down, around, anywhere and everywhere that the ancient forest had seeded it's children. 

"How long have you been here?" He asked the forest, knowing he would not receive a reply, but enjoying the feel of voicing his questions instead of letting them clang around so clumsily in his horned head. "Have you seen the rise and fall of kingdoms? Of gods?" 

Suddenly, the stallion was seized with an unrelenting thirst for knowledge, for understanding beyond his years. He had heard of a priestess from Mistward, a vale in nestled in the mountain passes to the far west of his birth kingdom, who could commune with plant life, who could listen to their whispers and learn of their secrets. How he craved that ability, how he craved to learn something other than the bitterness that plagued him. 

"If I could hear you, would you teach me of your time here?"
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Camdis Lohir had heard the roar of the river before he saw it, though the sound was more akin to the bellowing of some great and ancient beast than to a body of water. With the spring sun pressing heated fingers to his back and weighing on his shoulders, the horned stallion hurried to reach the banks, thirst at the forefront of his mind while the relic's insistent pull took a back seat for once. In hist haste, the stallion almost tripped over his own mane, his hoof catching on a section of the lengthy locks and yanking rather painfully. Grunting as his lip curled, Camdis shook his head to dislodge the discomfort that had spiked down his neck and continued on, albeit slower and with more care than before. 

As he approached the banks, the brute was distantly thankful that he had taken more care with his steps, noticing what looked like an array of skid and slide marks along the shore and leading into the monstrous river. Brows raising, the stallion didn't even attempt to count the number of possible casualties that were denoted by the crumbling banks and the gouges of struggle along the sand and mud - he didn't want to think about another thing that he couldn't do anything about. 

Hesitantly, while keeping a healthy distance between his body and the river's edge, Camdis followed the path that the water had carved into the jagged earth, silvery eyes half searching for the relic, half searching for a solid place to press his hooves. At last, after what had only been a few moments but what felt like ages, the bloodied bay found a mostly flat boulder that jutted out into the raging waters, it's existence defiant in the face of such treacherous footing. Carefully, the healer-to-be placed a single, massive hoof upon the stone, relief flooding him when it didn't move. 

Emboldened by the sturdiness of the boulder, but with trepidation still dogging his steps, Camdis Lohir made his way slowly toward the edge of the rock before lowering himself to his knees and stretching his head toward the frigid river. As soon as the cool waters touched his lips, the stallion sighed happily, drinking deeply and greedily until his stomach was bloated and achy. Raising his head before lowering his body to the rock, Cam lay with contentment enough, eyes straying across the foamy surface and to the far bank, lost in thought. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Even though he believed the beauty of the Night Court's realms was and would remain unparalleled, Camdis Lohir wasn't daft enough to refuse recognition of beauty elsewhere in the continent. As the relic's magic tugged him along the realms of Delumine, the stallion found that his usually grouchy expression and cranky disposition were softening in the face of Illuster Meadow's sea of blossoms. If he weren't so fearful that he would be enveloped by the field and become the unwitting victim of a hoof to the face and if the magic wrapped round his heart weren't so insistent that he keep going, keep going, keep going! the horned stag would have paused for a nap.

Or a coma, he thought wryly as the exhaustion that had become his near constant companion nipped at his hocks. 

Truly, he was tired, and he silently implored the relic magic to free him, if only for an hour's rest. 

At last, his hooves near dragging and his legs close to giving out, Camdis felt the pull in his chest soften and he nearly moaned in relief. Not bothering with grace or decorum, the stallion slowed to a stop and flopped his muscled body to the soft earth in a single motion. A relieved sigh pushed from his belly as the bay nestled into the ground, his tired bones cushioned by the layer of grass and flowers that he had squished beneath his bulk. 

"Sorry about smashing your flowers, Dawn Court," he mumbled as his silvery eyes slid closed, relishing in the warmth of the afternoon sun and the hypnotizing pleasure of approaching sleep. 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      

The court of Dawn's Children was something to behold. While the Night Court stood stubborn and solid, cloaked in the darkness of evening and wrapped in the arm's of his beloved deity, warmth and love rolling off of each brick and stone in nearly tangible waves that belied it's daunting appearance, the fortress of Dawn made no such impression. No, instead, the massive stone garrison sat unyielding and proud, pale stone radiating the power and heat of it's patron. What sort of equines would pour forth from the gates of Dawn were it threatened? Would they be vicious, bloodthirsty? Would they revel in ripping their opponents limb from limb, or would they walk from within Dawn's walls and attempt to solve their disputes with word and pen rather than tooth and hoof?

These were the thoughts that swirled about the stallion's skull as he stared up at the seemingly impenetrable walls of the fortress, eyes narrowed against the burning brightness that was the early afternoon sun. 

Why had the relic's magic brought him here? By now Camdis assumed that the magic was at least semi-sentient, that silky string wrapped about his heart that waxed and waned like the moon as he strained to follow it's whims. Did it want him to learn something within the walls of the Dawn fortress? It should know by now that he would not enter another Court's holy house without direct permission or orders from his deity or sovereign - and because he had yet to meet either, there was no way that he could have obtained permission to even attempt an entrance. 

"You're gonna have to deal with it, relic," he grumbled more to himself than the invisible string, "I'm not gonna go in there."