Black and white. Dark and light. The choices we make every day that set out paths toward good or evil. It's the balance that the universe requires to keep on spinning. Like the solstice holding day and night in tandem, nature has a knack for resetting that balance when it grows too far astray. Such is the way that two brothers found themselves on opposite paths, walking away from each other even as they sought each other out.
In the depths of winter, Santana heard the clarion call. Less violent but no less compelling than the summons his twin had received, the shining brother felt himself inexorably drawn to the Mountain where all things began. There was no pain. There was no choking suffocation. Only the knowledge that the lonely peak was waiting for him, and that he had no choice but to obey.
It wasn't a long trip, not borne on the glimmering banners of his finely scaled wings. The gifts of his father, carried with the pride of his mother. They soon brought him to circle into a landing spiral over an icy plateau where others already gathered. Horses of every color, shape and size stood solemn in the bitter cold. In the midst of all was one apart. Tana took it in as he fell in line, listening to the ice-wrought stallion as he outlined a quest. A mission to save Beqanna. Others of his kind lingered quietly in his wake, shimmering like the otherworldly beings they were. He spoke of their mission, and the conditions of its success.
The loss of his gifts... it was a fearful proposition, but then wasn't that the way with such things? In the childhood tales mother had told, the hero must always lose something precious if he's to win the day in the end. If this was the price, so be it.
One member of the congregation caught his eye in particular. His heart stuttered in his chest at first glance, seeing only buckskin and fire. His brother. A second glance was enough to break the illusion, as clearly there were some key differences. She was a she, for one. A paint, like himself, and winged as well. Still... he made a commitment to speak with her when opportunity allowed. That time was not now. In the next moment, the frigid stallion spoke words of dismissal, one crystalline hoof cracking against the floor beneath them. The air grew thick with magic, then thin once more as the fairy and his cohort melted into the snowy air.
As they vanished, so did the various traits and powers that made them so unique. Wings disappeared, and deep inside, Santana felt a loss almost as heavy as that of his brother. Someway, somehow, they had taken the flame that defined him. A shiver worked its way across his skin as the true depth of cold sank into his bones. That was that, then. There was no going back.
Another shiver quaked through him, as the others seemed to take their own initiatives. It was quiet as they made their way down the mountain on foot. An aura of severity closed in around them, the loss of magic making everything more difficult. That was the point, of course. Shaking frost from his mane, the young stallion followed suit, stepping lightly over patches of ice. The buckskin girl is quick to depart, taking off across the frozen land with single-minded purpose. Oh well. It wasn't like he didn't know where she was going. For now, it was the fragile-looking chestnut child who he decides to follow. Finding the way is not so much his concern, more that the bold little thing doesn't stumble off a cliff or something.
She chatters. A lot. Was this what it was like being near him as a foal? Irritation melted away into concern when her small form began to take on symptoms of plague. No wonder she was willing to make the trek, her personal stakes could be no higher. He nods in acquiescence to her planned journey, letting her lead.
It's a long journey, and along the way he finds himself feeling increasingly protective of the delicate girl. Plucky and sweet and naive, and giving a running commentary of the features they pass. His back lighter and colder without the cloak of his wings, every step felt foreign and dreamlike. Her nightmares woke the dark hours. "We're going to change things. Make them better. Sleep, we'll fix this." He kept up a litany of faith, pretending confidence he wasn't sure he felt. All his life, Raul had been the one to protect him. Now it seemed it was his turn to be the protector. It was a more immediate sense of purpose than the one they both strode towards.
Every border they crossed made him miss his wings more, but some of the worry fell away as they found themselves in Nerine. It was home, as much as anywhere was. He briefly considered stopping. His family was near, he could try to visit. It was a brief notion, but enough to draw a heartsick pang in his chest. He couldn't see them, not yet. Not until this mission was over, and he'd done his part to reverse the damage done.
At last the journey was nearly done. The sea stretched out as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by the craggy outline of their distant destination. For the days it had taken to reach this point, it seemed just as grueling to make the swim that would bring them to the far shore. Mutely he glanced at the thin filly. She was already sick. There was not an ounce of fat on her. By rights, this should be her death sentence. "Good luck, little one. I'll see you on the other side." The promise left his lips as they considered the icy waters.
The first step into the brine was hell. The next one was fire. By the time his feet left the sand bottom, it felt like every vestige of warmth had been leached from him. Every stroke of his limbs took concentrated effort, until his mind could focus only on the task at hand. He was glad he'd wished the girl luck beforehand; there was no spare breath in his lungs to call out with. He longed to stoke the fire in his breast, to thaw out the blood that was coagulation in his veins. It wasn't there to call on. The world had narrowed to him, the burning cold waters surrounding him, and the not-any-nearer slice of rock that rose and fell from his sight on the waves.
Bitter saltwater flowed into his nostrils, making him cough, only to swallow more water. It felt like he'd been swimming forever before the solemn shoreline began to look just a bit closer. It occurred to him that he just might not make it. The way the numbness was threading up his limbs, it seemed very probable that the sea may simply claim him for her own. The clouds of air puffing from his lips grew thinner as his core temperature dropped steadily. It was mindless now. The mechanical push of legs against tide, fighting for every inch he gained. Vision blurry, his body didn't register solid ground until it forced his knees to his chest. Semi-frozen sand crunched underneath him as he hauled his saturated body from the surf. Cruel breezes dragged fingers down his body. Hypothermia set in, body violently trembling in response to the punishing element.
Teeth clattering in his jaw, the sopping stallion tried to focus on his breath. Looking at the hard won land, his mismatched eyes began to focus with mild disappointment. It was a barren, cold land, and he didn't see anyone else yet. Had they landed further up shore? A deep cough wracked his chest, trying to expel some of the water burning his lungs. Fuck, this sucked. They never talked about this level of suck in the old tales. His blood felt like it was the same texture as pine sap, only moving through his body with grudging necessity. What he could feel hurt. What he couldn't feel, he knew was going to hurt very badly in the near future. If he survived that long.
Another head bobbed up from the white surf. It wasn't the small chestnut face he'd grown familiar with over the last few days. It was the patterned one of the girl he'd noticed back on the Mountain. It took ungodly effort, but he forced his legs to work. At an agonizingly slow pace, he made it to her as she emerged, still dripping and looking just as cold as he was. "H-hey. We've n-n-never met, b-but I'm fuck-king cold. C-can we s-stand tog-gether a while? I-I'm S-santana." His jaw hurt from the strain of forcing the words out, but it seemed bearable put against the possibility of a little shared warmth.