She stands on the western mountain ridge that now makes up the coast of Beqanna, her eyes out to sea. Before, Pangea would have spread beneath her, but the wasteland has been swallowed up by the saltwater. Though the small mare’s interactions with the residents of the vanished kingdom had been infrequent, she is not entirely sad to see them go. Better the ‘big bads of Beqanna’ find themselves somewhere to stay that is not along her kingdom’s border.

It is a burden she had not known she was carrying until she was relieved of it. Seeing the waves lap at the base of what are now entirely Sylvan mountains is peaceful.

Djinni does not like it.

She has been still and calm, cool and collected. She has ruled the tiny land of Sylva for three years, and they have had three years of peace. It is rather boring, here in the quiet woods. Some part of her knows she could request another placement, or even to return to the seashore permanently. Djinni thinks of that as she looks down at the sea, and wonders what might have become of the residents of Sylva had they been the ones swept into the sea.