The sun is barely on the horizon when he awakens, roused by an uneasiness somewhere in the core of his aching bones. Time had been unkind to him. First, giving him more time than he knew what to do with – as he was forced to watch each lover waste away, and each child from his loin fall and become ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Then, just as he began to feel some semblance of acceptance for the fate that had been dealt to him, time began to take – stealing away his strength, leaving him weakened with fatigue and aching where he never had before. Carving deep and sullen lines beneath his eyes. 

   It did not take him long to realize that time would come for him, as it had come for all the rest.

   Alas, he had much to say, much to do before that fateful day came –

   And as the sun is finally setting, tucking itself behind the distant vista, he is quiet and contemplative, staring out over the valley that lay before him after a long and weary travel. The dark crimson of his gaze roves over what had once been blackened and charred; instead the ground is soft and fertile and as luscious as the rest of it. The wreckage his son had once wrought with fire no longer held any hold over Hyaline, and a faint smile touches his dark lips at the sight of it.

   The sky is still alight with a splendor of color, dancing across the stillness of the lake, but he is still himself, refusing to move into the heart of Hyaline. Ever ready to bear the burden of diplomacy, he would be patient. His scent of sulfur and sun and of billowing smoke would carry, and he would not be alone for long. He did not come for Solace; he did not come on behalf of Tephra. He is tired of government, of bureaucracy – he came for more.

   He has come for the young boy that had been carved into a man before his own watchful gaze; he came to see the one who had taken Hyaline beneath his wing, and watched as it soared.

   He has come for Amet.

   (He has come for goodbye - but he would never tell him that.)

Amet moves towards the border of his home, hooves digging into the hard soil deftly as he ascends the small mountain ridge. The sun beats on his leather-plated back, scales glistening in response to the golden rays as he roams the outskirts of his sanctum. The Akhal-Teke's amber eyes linger on the vibrant leaves of red maple and flamboyant, but his thoughts are on the black and white sabino mare who'd sprinted headlong into his life just days earlier. He's been lovesick with the thought of her ever since, unable to rid his thoughts of the mind reader or her crimson eyes. It feels different this time, though ─ this burning desire. The intensity of it is new, but the gilded stallion had taken it by the horns from the moment it had grasped him with heated fingers.

He desires her like no other, but he does not feel distracted or overwhelmed by it. Only empowered by it.

And how fitting is it, really, that his mind is full with thoughts of Eione when the familiar scent of her father greets Amet's flared nostrils just as he reaches the cusp of Hyaline. He throws his golden head to the sky and calls loudly for Offspring, and though his heartbeat has escalated at the thought of meeting with the former Overseer of Tephra (at the thought of explaining how he feels for Eione), Amet is no longer the young boy that he had once been. And he will meet this head on.

Offspring comes into view soon after and a genuine, joyful smile finds the young stallion's gilded face. "Offspring!" he says happily as he lowers his head in greeting to the crimson-eyed stallion, "What brings you out to Hyaline today? I hope all is well."