Pale hooves crunched against the rocky terrain of Tinuvel. The wind seemed too bitterly cold compared to the breezes that enveloped Paradise. The world seemed bare, even in the seasons of life and growth. Though it held its own subtle kind of power, Ailill could not imagine lingering on this land for too long. Still he visited occasionally in memory of the first mare he had ever dared to ask to dance. He remembered her kindness, her laughter. She had treated him as though he were real. Even when he had been so young, she had smiled at him and promised a dance. Now he stepped through the cold shores, the wind gently lifting his platinum mane. It was more than clear. She had left, and Tinuvel had been abandoned.

A small part of the stallion could not blame the island. After all, it was incredibly cold, and the beauty was far too quiet for a mind such as his. As strong as he thought he could be, this land would have surely broken him. He considered this being his land trip to the island as he walked the shores until he saw shapes emerge from the salty waves. Curious, the Lord of Paradise trotted forward and raised his voice in greeting, though it was not his land. He thought, maybe they could find joy here together if only for a moment. He was, after all, a friendly man.

The moment he recognized who he had just called to the stallion stopped cold. His face fell and eyes widened in surprise. He had not seen nor scented Nephilim in far too long to have dreamed he would have come back to this place. Now he was back the stallion flinched in a moment of fear. Now there were two stallions very possibly out for his blood.