[private] it's all gone with the wind

[lilliana]

Her gaze follows Pteron's across the cystal-blue ocean, lightly capped with iridiscent foam as the waves break towards the beach. Life is lovely here, she thinks. Different from Taiga, she knows. But her love for Taiga is because of it's imposing trees and craggy shores. There is something wild about the wood, like the Fae ran out of Magic by the time they created redwood forest (though some Magic had to go into their height). The shores were rough-cut, with ledges that rose and sank into the sea with the kind of unpredictability it was known for. The fog created a veil that softened everything when it came rolling in, often with the morning tide.

Taiga was nothing like Ischia; but then the moon was nothing like the sun. You could love them both for the light they brought into your life and not mind their differences, the moon's glow or the sun's shine.

The tobiano stallion nods subtly at her mention of Nashua and his younger brother. "You'd be hard-pressed to find Yanhua outside the Taiga," she offers with a slight smile, glancing down the beach to watch Reave again. Not many horses, herself included, had the desire to call the Isle home and it seemed her star-marked shared that with his mother. Winters in the North were hard in the best of times - without the cover of a dense forest? With nothing but the sea and the edge of the world to separate them from frigid storms? The chestnut nearly shivers with the thought and finds herself all the more grateful to be basking beneath a warm Ischian sun.

A sun that is slowly being consumed by the moon.

She calls out to Reave, beckoning her youngest child to come closer. (He's old enough that he doesn't need to cling to his dam's slender sides but Lilliana wants him nearby enough that she can make out the startling white of his tobiano coat, the brilliant blue of his eyes despite the increasing dark.) The winged stallion looks up and Lilliana follows his stare again, studying the dimly-glowing ring that wreathes the center of their sky.

Lilliana half-hopes that Pteron will know something. Maybe this is Magic from Mountain. Maybe this is something that has before in Beqanna. This land had a long history and was full of many Immortals; maybe one sought respite along Aquaria's beaches and had mentioned a time that the sun and moon rose together in calamity or omen. But if there is a prophecy to accompany this happening, it is not something the pegasus knows. There are no stories for something like this.

"A friend saw this," she says in a hushed tone, not wanting to alarm Reave who stared curiously at something. Lilliana peers curiously towards the taller stallion. "He said it will cover everything. That no land will be spared," not like the fires or the previous wars that had been directed at the fault of mortals. Warden hadn't known how the dark came to be; only that it would come as the future always did. "This seems like a God's work," she murmurs, an idea conceived with notions of vengeance and wrath and doom.

What else would be powerful to control the pull of the sun and moon? To bring them together and leave the world below to stumble in the dark?

(She doesn't invoke the Dark God's name but she does wonder.)

Did Beqanna have more than one?