It wasn’t the first time he’d heard another’s voice in his mind. Rayelle had sometimes spoken to him that way. Yet where hers had been a gentle presence among his thoughts, silvery and soft, this voice was violent and forceful. It raked through him with insidious intent, and Leander blinked at the vision of the chestnut whom he did not know, but whose name he was surprised to recognize.
Rhonen.
He remembered his father telling him of his second cousin’s sudden disappearance as a weanling – how the family had searched for Rhonen, desperate to find him – how they’d never seen him again. The winged stallion had no idea what might have become of him since. Perhaps this relative of his really was a danger, as the voice had said; but the way it had commanded the kill, the way it had demanded bloodshed without cause or explanation disturbed him enough to spur him into flight.
The vision led him to Pangea, though Leander knew nothing of the place. He observed that it was rank and wet, and there was a smell to the air that put him on edge as he soared nearer the mountain. There were others, too; both below and in the skies, and so the palomino overo simply followed in the wake of a dragon-winged mare. It wasn’t too long before she dove earthward. Leander angled his flight pattern and took a steep turn, wheeling as he looked down from on high.
What he saw was chaos.
In the middle of the fray was the target – a chestnut who appeared the opposite of dangerous – and yet already there were those who tore at him senselessly; drones obeying a bodiless voice who spoke without reason or mercy. It angered Leander to see it, knowing a member of his family was being attacked by dozens of strangers who didn’t even pause to think beyond their own morbid thirst for the man’s blood. He also saw that there were a few who seemed to be defending him, and immediately he swerves to alight next to two pegasi among them: Leliana, whom he’d followed, and Cress, the mare beside her.
Taking pause to evaluate the unfolding situation, he heard some of Cress’ words to the dragon-winged mare who was shaking with effort, a golden light exuding from her toward Rhonen. His brown eyes catch sight of a stallion releasing a jetstream against the onslaught, while a mare was pushing past bodies and screaming for them to stop, screaming for her father. It is her cries that drive Leander to action – galloping a few strides, he leapt, wings spread wide as he used the updrafts caused by the overheated air to climb swiftly into the sky.
Leander was no warrior, but he had a noble heart – so when he saw a sickly figure approaching the mare who had cried out, he tucked his wings close to speed to her defense. He plummeted downward with the intent of at least bowling Zain over with his bodyweight before regaining his footing upon the mudtorn ground. His skin beaded with sweat in the sweltering heat as he twisted to see where Rhonen was amidst the barrage, unaware that the mare he had hoped to defend had suddenly crumbled to the earth behind him.
