KASIL

The wind was whipping against his face, a cold breeze that promised the coming of the winter season and his breath visible in the chilled morning air. He had climbed the summit on his own, the wind making it just a little too dangerous for him to fly. He saw it as a sort of pilgrimage, which he did not mind so much as he had quite a heavy burden to carry - his first visit to the worshipping grounds since his anointment as King of Delumine. Now that he was here it seemed that all the excuses he had been using were quite inconsequential, just a way for him to abstain from the inevitable. Granted, he had valid enough reasons for staying within the boundaries of his court. He needed to stay close, to ensure that they flourished before he took off on his own.

A part of him also worried that he wouldn’t be able to go back to them. He had been holding his breath for months, walking on thin ice as he tried to gather the resources that Delumine had to his advantage. It was both terrifying and exhilarating for him to let go of his responsibilities as Sovereign. He was confident enough in those that he’d left in charge. Ipomoea and Somnus could handle the festival for themselves, and he would return just in time for it to wrap up -- before he would need to go away again, this time on a journey to visit the other courts. It was well past time for introductions to be had. He had only met the King of Night thus far, but he knew of trouble brewing and he wanted to try to head it off -- quickly.

Kasil turned away from the entry of the cave, his stride purposeful -- though humble as he sought the altar of his God. He could have walked this path blind, for the many times he had been brought here as a child. In his mind’s eye, he could see his grandfather Ivanskir leading the way, the boy-child known as Kasil lingering fearfully at his heels. He had once been scared of the dark as a colt, and the flames of the torches had not been bright enough for the child of Dawn. Others were around him, his senses telling him so -- whether it was through the flick of his ears, or the drawing of his breath. He was not alone, which was fine. He had no need for a special audience with the altars of worship.

His gaze passed over the altar of Caligo, the bringer of darkness -- her altar laden with gifts of gold and black roses. Vespera was next, her altar alight with candles and the offerings of herbs from her followers. Solis’ altar was draped in war silks, a cluster of arrows barely visible save for the glints of light. And then there was Oriens, his altar far more bare than Kasil was expecting. Perhaps it was time to lead the people on a pilgrimage of their own, lest they forget who it was that they serves. Kasil smoothed the small flare of annoyance he felt, consoling himself with the fact that it was hard to make an offering of goods to a god who valued knowledge and justice over all. Those were not tangible gifts to give.

Still, the king drew near to the altar of his God, drawing a small book of writings -- bound by leather. The winged stallion lowered his head, sending a silent prayer before looking up again -- laying the small book at the feet of the altar. All of the months of preparation...he had still been writing and seeking the guidance of Oriens. Hopefully, that offering or problems...hopes...dreams...desires...it would be enough for now. He had not signed the thing, instead keeping it as vague and non-directional as he would have any scrap of writing that would leave his hand. He didn’t need such a thing falling into the hands of his enemies, that was certain.

With another bow of his head, the King departed. His mission had been simple and now it was complete. He just hoped it would not take him so long to return to this place, a sense of peace falling over him like a heavy blanket.