The stallion took a while to answer, and though she held her gaze steady she began to wonder if she had done something wrong. She knew he was one of the Blessed from the dish of his head, but was he another transcended mortal? Or was he a guardian sent to weed out the unfaithful? Spirit was nothing if not mischievous. It hid in the corners of things, waiting for you to drop your defenses like a leopard in the underbrush. She knew if she asked something of Spirit that it would expect something in return, and the silence that stretched between her and the bay made her wonder if she should have made some sort of offering. But what more would she have to give? She had already paid the ultimate price.

Her worries abated somewhat when he spoke, and she dipped her head in thanks before following him down the sand. Though her wounds ached and her muscles groaned in protest, she kept pace with him, sparing only one glance over her withers at the ocean retreating behind them. It felt wrong to place her trust in a stranger, to follow him like a child through an unknown place. From foalhood she had been surrounded by those who, she knew, had her best interests at heart. How could they not? She was their redemption. To do otherwise would be suicide.

She had thought it would be similar here. After the last year, she should have known that not everything goes as it is promised.

After some time, they paused. The mare looked around, but could see no sign that they were any closer to the Falls than they were before. Not even the ocean was visible. She flared her nostrils; Spirit’s faint scent still lingered, but she could not determine its closeness through the tang of her own blood. She was scanning her surroundings when she felt the weight of the stallion’s gaze upon her, and as she turned her head to meet his eyes she caught the question that soon followed.

And how was she supposed to answer? Before her ascension, she had been Elaheh, but this land was meant to be full of others like her who had been blessed by Spirit’s good graces. She could not be Elaheh here, new as she was, and after finding herself in this lifeless desert she was unsure if she should assume such a presumption of importance. But if this stallion was the gatekeeper to the promised land, surely he would want something that proved her worthiness. She paused, glancing over his form. Were he not Blessed, he was the spitting image of Ratan, with his rich russet coat and Spirit-kissed points. Her heart twisted with guilt. If not for her, Ratan might still be here. Nekane too.

She knew she could not take her companions into this life with her, but maybe she could keep pieces of them. The Arabian thought back to the sea, to days spent in the cerulean waters Nekane loved so much, and decided she would perform a little test of her own. “Firouzeh,” she said at last, a name as bright and shining as the ocean that had carried her from one life into the next. Her gaze returned to meet his full on. “Who are you?”

His response would tell her what she needed to know. Divine beings were extensions of Spirit and had no proper name as such. If he could not give her a name, she would know she was in the presence of God. She would know she had been sent to the right place. She would know she was worthy. She would know the past five years, all the pain and sacrifice and suffering and loss, had finally amounted to something good. Didn’t she deserve at least that?