[open] the drought was the very worst - any

[Nayl]

I am not afraid... I was born to do this.

Thus, is the curse of immortality.

Nayl has often wondered if that is to be her life – develop her place in Beqanna, disappear, then return years later – or if she will one day meet her end. Will Castile and Isobell witness the fall of their mother? Will Lior embrace her one last time or will their love last an eternity like their immortality?

A knot forms in her chest – an unfamiliar sensation – but it dissipates as a wintry gust sinks its claws into her skin, reminding her of where she is.

There are no taverns here that she can find shelter within from wind and snow. Here, in the field, there is a vulnerability that she almost loathes as her eyes trace along the curious faces hidden among the tall grass. She is exposed entirely. There is no seclusion, no escape from prying eyes. Over her shoulder she looks in the direction of her home, reflecting on the tall grass, the dunes, the cliffside, but then she is looking ahead again and sees a mare colored like the dappled moonlight.

Their lives are separated by decades but no one would be able to know by looking at them. Their faces are as youthful as they were three. Nayl reaches her with eyes lit by an inner flame. ”Hello,” she says with an easy coolness, ”I’m Nayl .” The mare has eyes that drink in the scenery but not with entire innocence. It has some amount of familiarity, but the faeries had churned their world and recreated it into something entirely new. ”You don’t act like you’re new to Beqanna, but perhaps a stranger to this new world.” A pause to enable a keen observance. ”Where did you live before?”

queen of nerine
daughter of covet & myrina