Things had become heavy for the bald-faced mare, making time seem to tick by so very slow. Xiomara had always strived for change, to conquer, to make a difference. But instead of making her way to the top, she felt as if she were sliding backwards towards the dark pit in which she had climbed out of. As if to make matters worse, the mare could stand it no longer and had taken to the sea, finding herself in the place it had all started.


Drawing her soaked form up onto the shores of Tinuvel, her blue eyes cast over the land she had briefly called her own. The Inlet looked no different, though she knew the pillars of stone would stand as they were for the rest of time. Long after she and her kin perished from this land. Taking in a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, Xiomara let it out on a loud beckoning call. Though she had been banished from this land, the Shore Queen did not care. She had to see him, the one constant in her life since the beginning.