It gives him pleasure to think he is yet undiscovered. While tall and muscular, physically appealing in the a way just a step removed from conventional, his mind is rat-like: cunning and disgusting, a place of plague. That he weaves through the trees bordering the Chamber's depths as yet without meeting resistance makes him feel explicit, a snake in the grass.
Of course he knows it cannot continue this way.
The Chamber stands because for all these years it has defended itself.
If asked, it would be difficult for the dark bay stallion to explain his presence here. Perhaps it is simply inertia - if he stood for too long he grew bored in mind and body, and his disease demanded action. So what to do? The thought of herd life nearly made him ache with boredom just to think of, the daily grind of a dozen prying eyes waiting for his attention. He was not meant for something so droll and domestic. The few children he had were off, as good as dead for all he knew of them. They were unfortunate byproducts, hardly worth including in his machinations.
He could have tried any other kingdom. But the Chamber called.
It is a few minutes more of traveling, his sides brushing against bark as he cuts through the pines, before he hears the 'thump' of something touching down, the displacement of air that denotes the folding of large wings.
"Hello," he calls through the trees, a voice like an oil slick, deep and dark. Slithering out from between the trees, it is hard to miss the winged stallion. Arka tilts his head, reptilian and questioning, seemingly unaware it may give the winged one every reason to raise his hackles. "Tell me, am I within the borders of the Chamber?"
Arka
whirl the wheel oh father, oh satan, oh sun