CYRENE
the monarchs flew free;
yet they circled around her.
Can exhaustion kill, like a sword or a plague or a well-aimed bow? yet they circled around her.
Cyrene could not remember the last time she had rested. The world was a mural of filmy color, her bones long crumbled to dust. The blue horizon was an endless sea, the yellow sands an eternal purgatory. The journey to Solterra had been long — but the journey back was endless.
Her sable curls hung like limp seaweed down her scorched neck, and each step she took dug like a rusted dagger against her ribs. With a sigh as deep as the night was long, the crimson girl’s amber eyes blazed in anger as she wished bitterly for the pain to leave, leave, leave.
Yet it had never obeyed her before, and it saw no reason to start now.
A lone falcon screeched its loyalty to the sun as it circled like a vulture high above, and Cyrene felt envy squeeze her chest like a boa as she watched. What she would give to fly again; she would be back by Florentine and Asterion’s side by now.
A wave of guilt swept through her as she eyed the two Terrastellan guards trekking silently besides her, their wings tucked neatly against them like her own. They could’ve been home by now. Sensing her eyes upon them, the younger of the two looked towards her with a worried frown. Are you alright? She nodded quickly, a hasty smile pulling her lips taut like a marionette’s. I am fine.
Florentine had already returned to Dusk (she couldn’t remember how many days it had been — her head spun like the way it had when she was a foal, twirling like a fool to the beat of drums; back then, it had been pleasant) because Cyrene had insisted on staying behind, much to her queen’s distress. But the emissary’s resolve was unshakeable. There had been too many wounded remaining, their cuts festering from the heat and flies. In the end, Florentine had relented.
But Solterra had stabilized. Reborn from its own ashes, the Sun Court was a smoking phoenix that would emerge deadlier than it had died. And with Seraphina at the helm, it wouldn’t be long before the kingdom would rebuild stronger than it had fallen.
A tense wing pressed into her shoulder and she stumbled, her memories scattering like ants. But before the girl could give a yelp of shock, a low, resounding growl grated against her ears like cold steel, and she froze.
Strange, mismatched eyes glowed like lanterns from the shadows of a dense shrub, a hoof stamping down on the earth with a threatening thud. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she slowly made out his form.
It was Cyrene’s turn to press her wings to the broad chests of her guards, their protests silenced with a sharp stare.
Hoofbeats as light as a panther’s tread, Cyrene dared a step closer to the strange man, and then another. Until she stood barely a wing’s length away from him, her leonine eyes guarded and sharp. When she spoke, however, her voice was as soft as reeds in the wind.
@Raam | a long and droning post, apologies! but excited to finally thread with you <3
