Beyza does not cry as she sees her home engulfed in flames. Though she does grieve, instead of sadness she feels a white-hot rage boil inside of her. At first, she does not know the source and assumes an attack but then the fire dies and she hears the voice of their mysterious leader, Straia. So is this landscape an echo from the Beqanna of old? Of course Beyza doesn’t know what this place is, she’s a child of the new lands, but it enrages her that someone could be so self-centred that they would alter an entire land for their own desires.
If the rest of Pangea was asked about what they thought of this, Beyza missed that meeting. And somehow she doubts they were given anything close to that much consideration.
Sparks sizzle across the white mare’s flanks as she arrives to speak with Straia, electricity arching from her skin as an outward sign of her irritation. She had believed in Ghaul’s vision but this? This feels different. Pangea was home, it was the first place that Beyza had felt as though she belonged, and now on a whim, it has been bastardized. Gone are the cliffs where she had first discovered her magic. She sees glimpses of the places she knows echoed here and there but it is not the same. With a cold certainty, she knows she wants no part in this mad woman’s game or this new land.
And all for what? What could be done in this slightly-more-vegetated land that could not have been done in Pangea?
Her voice having returned a short time ago, she does not hesitate to speak her mind - anger colouring the edges of her usually calm voice. “Do all your plans enjoy destroying homes or is that an honour reserved specifically for us?” Beyza asks in place of a greeting. “What gives you the right to do this to Pangea, to change our home into this... monstrosity?”
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