There was nothing that could be done to change the terrible things that had already happened, but the perlino stallion still clung to the hope that - somehow - he could turn back the hands of time and make things right again. And so over the hours of solitude that he spent wandering the Ridge, Iscariot picked apart the complex web of the past thread by thread. Trying to find the single moment - the single ripple - that had created such turbulence in the sea of his family’s lives. It was only a couple days ago that it had come to him: Çiçek. Since the golden mare had taken her leave of Atlantis just before the spring, everything had been slipping. Everything had been building, like the gathering of dark clouds that preceded a storm. And perhaps, if Rivaini and Faolain could at least see her again, then it would be enough.

So he’d encouraged - well, harassed them, really - to go and visit their beloved friend, vowing to help Ailill watch over the Ridge in their absence.

It was a simple enough duty, in theory... but in practice, the solitude that he sought in volunteering to take a patrol came with another, less-welcome companion. Without anything to silence them, his thoughts and doubts spoke louder than ever before. It had shaken the pale creature to see Roison so distraught, and to feel so powerless to help her. Iscariot knew that he was weak - but for the sake of his family here, he tried so hard to be strong that it hurt. And it was never enough. No matter where he fled to, the world would always be ruled by strength over compassion. By relentlessness over kindness. Rougaru had proven that in emerging victorious over Faolain, and the nameless silver bay in defeating Ailill not once, but twice. Perhaps there had been truth to what his sire had said.

Perhaps a tender heart like his own only existed to be broken.

Traveling down the slightly-curved spine of the mountains, the creamy male sought to escape the overwhelming darkness of his thoughts by focusing his senses on his surroundings. For all that its rugged terrain tormented his painful hind limbs, Iscariot still marveled at the unexpected beauty and peace of this place that Faolain and Rivaini had found. Streams wound like silver ribbons down the slope, and their shores were often marked by the vibrant colors of flowers that Çiçek had favored. With the arrival of autumn, the Ridge was also graced by the presence of migratory birds from elsewhere on the island - and no matter whether their feathers were jeweled or drab in color, Iscariot found them beautiful too. It would have been enough for him to just hear them, even if he had been unable to see them. To close his eyes and bask in their songs, which wove together with the soothing murmur of the sea and the gentle sighs of the breeze to create an uplifting symphony.

Are you there? … I need your help, please.

For the first few heartbeats following these words, the pale stallion did not move. Certain that he had imagined them, or, or - he didn’t know. It could be a trick, his mind whispered, sending a thrill of fear through his pale skin. But the part of him that was good and gentle and (stupid) kind could not turn away from that voice and the desperate plea he had spoken. Not if it was a figment of his imagination, and not if it was a ruse intended to harm himself or the ones he loved. Because someone might need him, and there was not enough cruelty in him to ignore even that small possibility. Continuing forward, Iscariot felt the soft loam of the forest become the rougher texture of sand beneath his hooves, and inhaled deeply of the salt-tanged air before he took that final step onto the beach.

And abruptly froze, the dark pools of his pupils widening to consume the pale, icy ring of his irises.

She was real, he knew, even without the confirmation of touch. But she was also a stranger - an unfamiliar face bearing strange, clouded eyes that he had seen only once before. Blind, she was blind. But then - how had she found her way here? Was she lost? Alone, she was unlikely to be capable of finding her way back home, but perhaps with his help… "Hello?" Iscariot called softly, hesitation saturating even that single syllable. He wasn’t a hero - he wasn’t even capable of protecting himself. But with Rivaini and Faolain absent, and Ailill watching after the girls, who else was there? "I - I’m Iscariot, and I live here. I heard you calling, and-" His voice had begun to shake, but he brought it back under control with an effort of will. "-and I came to help you. If - if I can."