That everything good is happening somewhere else?
The heavy scent of pine has disappeared from the Chamber. Ash, instead, flits through the kingdom. Where once needles littered the earth, black dust lies. Similarly, the gleam of my golden coat is no longer charming; instead, it has taken on a dashing, roguish demeanour. My silver tongue has sharpened from spoon to knife, and the thanks is all to the Chamber. The volcanos may have torn through its skin, but there is no force with the means to tear out its heart.
Stubbornly, the mist clings to the landscape. Long needles no longer exist to embrace it, but the mist still clings to where the trees once stood, casting long shadows on the kingdom. My shapely hooves clip sharply against the stony earth, carrying me through the grey sea, towards the centre of this land. The thump-thump beneath the earth plays queerly in my bones upon this eve; and in others, too, it would seem. As the veil parts, the family reunion commences.
Straia may not be horrified, but I certainly am. This is not the brother I knew, though he hasn't been for decades. Memories flit behind my amber eyes; games of chase and battle, nights spent with just us three, days spent with Mother amongst the chaos of the Jungle. Recent memories resurface as well; Bergamot's light-coffee eyes gleam in my mind, eyes which reflect Rodrik's all too well. Their meeting had gone smoothly, in fact, son and uncle had gotten along better than hoped.
Perhaps only I have ever seen that side of him. Perhaps that side of him is only a glimmer of what once resided beneath his chestnut fur. Now, though few patches remain, I come to accept that this is his new skin. This is Rodrik.
"I always knew you were a devil," I say after a long moment. "Though the visual really gets the message across. Dozens of question race across my tongue, yet so quickly that I never end up asking one. Instead, I study him, attempting to keep the sickly feeling from affecting my expression.