The birds alerted her as soon as the fog cleared, as soon as the effigy was in sight. Hanging just outside of the jungle from giant crystalline thorns. She is too late to save him, but at least she can lay him to rest properly instead of having him be on display. Her distress may ripple out, unconsciously alerting those that share this jungle home with her that something has disrupted their peace.
Isilya knows death exists in the world, a sad but necessary part of life, but she’s never really known heartache or pain. Although the elderly stallion is not a face she recognizes, a deep sadness takes root in her heart. Who could have done this? And why? Not only to murder someone else but to display the body in such an unnatural way.
Creating life from a tree is draining Isilya’s magic so she cannot tell whether she is unable to re-create the faces of those that had come or if they are shrouded in magic of their own, protecting whoever had desecrated the border of Tephra like this.
The timelines are wonky but whatever! What actually happened is shrouded in fog/magic and isn't common knowledge but for anyone that wants IC knowledge of there being a body in Tephra (that Beyza left here!)
Short so anyone who wants to join in can before Isilya lays the body to rest!
Starsonder rests curled next to Warlight's side, Locheed grazes nearby. She is in the palace between sleep and waking, the soft and dreamy world between worlds. The scents of Tephra color the atmosphere where she wanders, but her eyes only see stars.
She feels the threads of Isilya's destress from this place, and it brings her back to the present. Apricot eyelids flutter open, and the source of what she feels draws her gaze east. Carefully, as not to wake her mother, she stands. Locheed gives her a half-curious glance, then turns her back, and the yearling disappears into the jungle.
She follows the tugging in her heart, knowing she needs to see what is at the end of the invisible trail. She smiles when she sees Tephra's queen, knowing her from her mother's stories and liking her because of them. But when she looks past the pale mare, a cold sweat breaks out across her skin.
She looks up at the gruesome message - there is no doubt in her young mind that this is what this is - and she looks and looks and looks.
