Desreal: IT WAS A WICKED AND WILD WIND [ALSHAIN]

THE WORD IS TIMSHEL -- 'THOU MAYEST' RISE FROM SIN.

To say Altair was remotely surprised would be an understatement; he had seen Alshain from afar had had been perplexed – had Desreal formed some strange trick upon him? At first, he had thought it was a mirage, some ghastly apparition either the fogs had created or his mind had conjured. But then, he noticed things about him, certain discrepancies that made Altair alarmed – it was not him! There were scars (while Altair had scars, he had seen enough of himself in the drinking water to recognize where each cut fouled his jagged features) he did not have, and that venerable thing Altair would not have for some time, discipline and prestige. He narrowed an eye at the creature, balking slightly as it came closer.

It could not be his father, no, his father was dead. Genesis had come to him in an hour of bitter desperation and told him. Nor could it be his sister, the apparition was distinctly male. Altair’s Air instantly snarled around him, growing wary of the horse as it stepped closer.

He had not thought of Alshain in eons, not since he had left Ilius for better shores. He didn’t know that Ozymandias too was here, and he didn’t know much of politics. He didn’t know that Genesis was here, or Aquila, or even Triggerphish. How odd was it to conceive that half of Ilius seemed to flock here?

“What the hell.” He snarled, his element rallying around him as he gained courage – be it a ghost or demon he cared not. He had seen darker things.

“You’re dead.” His voice was cold with disdain, his eyes dark with distrust. Genesis, his mother, had told him he was dead. And Altair, who had never met Alshain, knew instantly it was his father. But there was nothing romantic or even heartwarming about their meeting. “You’re dead.” He repeated, thinking of the horses in Phlegethon, neither dead nor alive.

“What are you doing here?”

A L T A I R
AD ASTRA PER ALIA PORCI.
ALSHAIN x GENESIS || AIR III