Over the course of only a single day, the perlino’s quiet and happy existence in the Ridge had been turned on its head.

In his youth, Iscariot had dwelled on his physical limitations almost endlessly. His heart had ached wistfully while he’d watched the other colts spar, mourning his inability to join them. And when his birth-herd had raced down the sandy beach, the pale boy had inevitably fallen behind - alone save for the company of his loyal sister. It was only after his arrival on the islands that Iscariot had come to accept himself as he was. That Faolain’s friendship had changed touched him in significant ways, remolding the very clay of his existence. After the black ‘Teke had accomplished the impossible and found Rivaini, it had given the creamy stallion’s skeptical nature pause. And when she had emerged from the fire of her early trials as one of the Ridge’s guardian unscathed, Iscariot had been converted into a true believer.

If a single mare could achieve such miracles, how could he not aspire to be something more than a piece of driftwood floating aimlessly along with the tides of fate?

But he was wrong - and worse, useless. Never had Iscariot felt as helpless as the moment that he’d watched Rougaru approach Faolain, the terms of the chocolate stallion’s challenge a cold chill to counter the burn of fury in his chest. He would have given anything to be whole in that moment - even the remainder of his years on the earth - to have the power to stand between the dark, slender mare and her fate. Instead, he’d been forced to watch as she was defeated. As a gloating Rougaru spoke to her briefly, and then left. Far from comforting him, the departure of Paradise’s king had only served to increase the pale stallion’s unease. From the way Faolain had stood and the flicker of something that he’d glimpsed in her eyes, Iscariot had known that there had been no compromise or absolution. That his companion was doomed - and with her, his heart.

Soon after the wolflike stallion was gone, Rivaini too had vanished. His heart beating a rapid rhythm against the bars of his ribs, Iscariot had followed her trail - fearing the worst. Perhaps the chocolate stallion had taken her captive, and was driving her back to his home. Or perhaps the silver bay mare had fallen into the same abyss that’d she visited after Çiçek’s departure, and was seeking to lose herself in the jungle. Either way, Iscariot felt that it was his duty to find her - particularly since the Ridge’s foremost guardian was now injured.

Traveling a path that took him southeast, the perlino Andalusian knew the moment that he left his home behind. The jungle changed - becoming denser and more vibrant, with air that was moist and unpleasantly warm. But even beyond these tangible things, this place felt different. It felt unfriendly, as if hostile eyes watched Iscariot from every shadow. Thankfully, the musky scent of the stallion who resided here was faint - and Rivaini’s was strong and clear. It was clear that she hadn’t been driven to Paradise by force - but then why had she come? Did she hope to convince Rougaru to revoke his claim? Battle the powerful stallion into submission? Iscariot didn’t know, and it troubled him. Over the years they had spent with one another, he’d thought his understanding of the silver bay mare was complete.

Engaged in a brief struggle with a vine that had wrapped itself around one hoof, Iscariot abruptly froze. What was that sound? His creamy ears tipped to one side, and heard the rustle of foliage again - as well as the unmistakable sound of another creature’s hitching sobs. "R-Rivaini?" He murmured softly, as incapable of concealing the note of fear in his voice as he was the tremble of his ivory coat. The noises paused only briefly, and then resumed. "Rivaini, it’s me. Iscariot," he offered desperately, finally yanking his leg free with a soft hiss. But neither the crackling pain nor the limp that plagued him slowed Iscariot’s headlong charge towards the source of the cries. His sister was in trouble - and no matter what the cost, he would not fail her in the same way that he’d already failed Faolain.

Where the path ended, however, Rivaini was nowhere to be found. Instead, Iscariot stumbled upon a short golden mare whose gaze was strangely clouded. Was this the one who’d been crying? The purpose that had led him this far was temporarily buried beneath the ghostly stallion’s concern and empathy, and he took a single step forward, his soft voice reaching out to her with compassion. "Are you okay?" He asked, though the answer was evident enough from her distress. "I - I heard you crying, and I couldn't just leave you here alone. I’m Iscariot."