–Lancerial–
Long ago, there was a lone horse.
She wandered across realms, across dimensions, through time and space in an endless search for something that never arrived: a rider.
One destined not to command her, but to join her. To sit upon her back not in dominion, but in harmony.
Only then would she transcend her mortal shell and be reborn as something greater, a unicorn, a divine steed of light and legacy, bound not to the world but to purpose.
She journeyed for eons.
Through skies that burned with celestial fire, across stars frozen in absolute silence.
Through realms collapsing into entropy and others so ancient even time itself refused to tread.
Worlds shattered in her wake. Civilizations bloomed, rose to glory, and crumbled into dust beneath the rhythm of her hooves, yet never did they bear a soul whose presence mirrored her own.
She remained nameless. Silent. Patient.
An eternal wanderer chasing the breath of a promise never spoken.
Until one day, when even fate could no longer ignore the sorrow etched into her spirit, he appeared.
Nicholas Anstlionah.
He did not come to conquer her. He did not mount her with pride or assumption.
He approached with reverence, his hand light and sure. He spoke to her in a language older than words, grace.
He moved with the weight of a king, a savior's warmth, and a god's quiet divinity.
And in that moment, the universe held its breath.
The nameless horse became Lancerial.
She had found her rider.
A radiant fire bloomed within her soul as ancient magic stirred from deep slumber. Her form shimmered, transcending flesh and sinew.
A luminous horn spiraled from her brow, and her body took on the brilliance of spirit and starlight.
She had not merely evolved.
She had awakened.
Nicholas had given her more than a name. He had given her meaning. A place in the eternal symphony. A tether in the vast silence.
And then, he vanished.
Time passed.
Eras turned and crumbled. The stars themselves seemed to dim. Without him, the cosmos lost its rhythm, as if even reality mourned his absence.
Still she roamed the realms. Still she wandered, but now, part of her remained fixed in a single instant. That first meeting. That bond unspoken and unbroken.
She knew.
She knew he would return.
For what they shared was not mortal. It was not confined to time or distance.
It was eternal.
And when at last, he rose once more, seated upon a throne in a world that had forgotten his name, she returned.
Quietly. Reverently. She stepped into his presence.
Regal and serene.
A goddess disguised in the form of a steed.
And I, looked upon my divine savior, and felt the crushing ache of the years lost between us.
"I think killing me is a worthy punishment," I said, trying to ignore it. "For leaving your side all this time."
I was a fool to leave his side, and even more of a fool to stand before him again.
***
–Nicholas–
When she said it again, I truly felt sorry for her.
Her thoughts were open, floating in the space between us like drifting words she allowed me to read.
Was this what I left behind? A legacy of pain and sorrow?
Was I really this almighty god? One who had abandoned his followers and left them astray?
Is this the oasis I dreamed of? A world where my followers were left to wonder alone, drifting as if I never was?
I was a bastard, an idiot for leaving these people behind, though not human or mortal, they were bound by it.
That feeling which seemed to bind even the strongest of creation, emotion.
That emotion which dictated them so easily, I was supposed to be the one to give it...meaning.
What a pitiful legacy I left behind.
"I will not be killing anyone. You are my loyal steed. Where might I travel without you?"
From her words and the aura surrounding her, it was clear she was powerful, but it was equally obvious she was no warrior.
I decided then and there that I should keep her close.
In case I ever find myself in trouble again.
"Have I not wronged you?" she asked softly. "You have killed for less, and for more. I deserve this."
She bowed her head again, and I felt an overwhelming urge to scream at her to lift it.
But I held my tongue.
Instead, I stepped down from the throne and walked over to her, placing my hand gently on her cheek.
"Never again will you be lost. Never again will you go unseen. From this moment and for all eternity, I shall be here. And I cannot do that without you."
She looked up at me, tears gathering in her radiant eyes.
"I understand. It seems you have grown kinder during your eon-long slumber."
I smiled at her, a small, tired smile.
"Kind, yes. I think I have grown just a bit more kind."
The voice echoed in my mind once again.
[The king felt at odds with his words. He was an absurdist. He did not value life, nor its meaning.]
[And yet, he continued onward despite that. He allowed himself to fall victim to those... delusions.]
I lifted her up gently and patted her shoulders.
"Never cry again. You shall run past sadness and despair. And once you reach the final destination, you will soar into the sky and fade into peace."
She smiled, and something about that smile made me feel just a little bit better about the actions of my past.
I had put these people through so much.
Mirabel.
What was she to me, really?
I needed to ask.
I doubted Lancerial would lie.
"I have a question to ask."
Lancerial gave me a thoughtful look. "If I know the answer, I will say it with all my might."
"Who was Mirabel? Who was she to me, I mean?"
Lancerial took a few steps back.
"She was... your most loyal servant. A devout follower. The only one you truly lo—"
Before she could finish, Mirabel appeared between us, her hand pressed firmly over Lancerial's mouth.
"I already told you," she said coldly, "I am your most loyal follower. That is all."
It was obvious.
Mirabel was someone deeply invested in me.
But to what extent was she loyal?
How deeply had she served me?
How precious had she been to me?
What kind of legacy had I left behind for her?
And why did she seem so desperate to hide it?
"Lying to a god is not a wise thing to do, Mirabel," Lancerial said, moving Mirabel's hand from her mouth.
Mirabel turned back to her, eyes narrowing. "Prove I'm lying. I dare you."
I sighed. "I will allow you to keep your secrets, but could you at least not threaten her? It makes me feel bad."
Mirabel snapped her head toward me, her face unreadable. She held my gaze with a long, flat expression before letting out a slow sigh.
"Let us end this conversation here. I do not feel like explaining anything right now."
Lancerial stepped back. "I will leave you two to talk this through."
Before I could object, she vanished, disappearing with that frustrating speed of hers. It left me both stunned and annoyed.
I turned to Mirabel, who stood with her arms crossed and an irritated expression.
"I am not saying anything to you," she muttered.
I sighed again and let myself drop to the ground.
It's like dealing with children.