a homecoming - straia, anyone

[Anaxarete]

There were few things in this world that could breathe fire back into the cold woman.  In all honesty, she wondered if there was anything left that could inspire a reaction or if she would be responsible for creating her own fire for the rest of eternity.  Not that that would pose a problem.  Anaxarete had always been creative, to say the very least.  She had no problem providing both the fuel and the spark for the flame and nurturing that flicker into an inferno. But today, such a thing was unnecessary.   Today, Beqanna exploded into a world of sparks and flames and ash while most of the population stood by, unaware. She could feel the changes rippling through the very earth between their hooves.  The shadow mare knew immediately what the thrum of magic meant - she needed no explanation for the changes.For she had been waiting for this moment for decades. No longer would she be banished to distant headlands or to the service of kingdoms that would never truly hold her allegiance.  The shadow-mare wouldn't have to amuse herself spreading mindless chaos from the darkness any longer. The barriers keeping her from what she wanted most had been obliterated. Her eyes flickered with something that had been dormant for far too long.  And that flicker made her more dangerous than she had been in decades. Because the woman once characterized by ice and cold was burning.   She was alive. The Chamber had taken Atrox's heart; but it had taken her soul all those years ago.  She never dreamed of asking for it back.  Anaxarete hadn't questioned the turn of events that had kept her on the fringes of her kingdom - the gifts she possessed had all been granted to her either by the Chamber or won in the service of the Chamber.  It didn't matter anymore.  The doors to her home were open to her once again.   She didn't hesitate.  In a swirl of shadow and sparks, she was gone. *** She appeared in the center of the kingdom that she had always called home - even when she couldn't. She didn't respect borders or wait for permission to enter.  This was her place, her home, and it always had been.  The shadow-mare had little doubt she would be noticed. The shadows, as always, swirled just enough to indicate that there is more that meets the eye with the little gray mare, but aside from that she stands patiently - ordinary as ever - with life flickering in her cold blue eyes. A N A X A R E T E

MAGIC. IMMORTAL. PSYCHOKINETIC. ALLIANCE WINNER. THREE TIMES A QUEEN.

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