Most likely, this is not what Aloy would have intended if she had given Shipka any real encouragement or guidance on travelling. It is unlikely that she would have sent her here, to this place with bone-white sand and black sea, both stained dark with rot and the destruction of so many souls. Death walks here and no-one else.

Almost no-one.

The girl is silent as she observes the sickly land around her, even the sand underfoot feels strange and wrong, feels damp far enough away from the swelling tide that in any other place, it would be quite dry. Her lips are drawn into a firm line, her ears turned back slightly and long slender legs take their steps carefully, picking a trail between cracked ribs and macabre grinning skulls. A small one tucked in among the others so clearly belonged to a child and the crushed eye socket tells more of its sad tale than she wants to know. Shipka stops, sickened, her breath caught in her throat.

No...

Naive girl. The bones are white and weathered and show their age. They have lain quiet longer than her own bones have existed. With the early twilight growing, her magic floods her veins again like fire and the girl calls a silver thread of starlight like diamonds to wrap the bones in a child's shape. There are missing pieces, but it doesn't matter, there's no soul inside the puppet she has made, yet a glittering foal with stars for eyes finds its clumsy shining feet and stands before her, flicking starlight from its curling tail.

"You're beautiful." Shipka murmurs softly, pressing her dark nose to the child's radiant brow, "and this is no place for a child. Go play somewhere else."

The starchild bucks and broncs, leaping forward in silence, only the soft sound of bone dropping onto the sand - and that is enough like hooves to not matter - finding the girl's tense ears which quiver invisibly against the night sky, and then they light upon the trail of starlight that teems from the sky and gallop off into the deepening darkness. Shipka knows it will not make it as high as the stars, the same as she knows that there are only empty bones wearing a starlight shell, but it soothes her to see the shattered child escape. It soothes her to imagine that by the time her magic runs out, it will be in a softer place, a gentler one than this.

This is no place for a child. Not even a dead one. Frowning softly, she turns her gaze out to the horizon to find comfort among the stars, and it is there, gleaming and brilliant, but something else is there, too. Something new.

Something wrong.