the wind toyed with ivory hued tassles, letting them dance in the wind across the nearly transparent figure’s apex. flints carried the glorious figurine across the ever darkening terrain, providing a sense of awe and wonder with the glow of his canvas. very few equines had ever seen one of their gods walking the lands and thus, any lone, wandering equine in the graves would have a treat tonight. even rare as it was for the ghostly stag to be stalking the lands, he attempted to avoid the place in which he let die out. numerous lights looked upon him but even so, remorse struck his dormant veins. crescent valley had gone to shame on his account and his first son, taz, was dead. his children were scattered among foreign lands, either dead or unworthy and unfit to rule. all was lost.

or was it? ignite had been the last of his spawn he had ever expected to step forth and renew the lands. the entity gravely remembered how ingite’s alliance seemed to be in question and he feared that he would abandoned his true calling to join a neutral stance. there had been only one other to leave the presence of the lights and that particular child of his was one he wished to forget. after all, in the peak of his reign, crescent had been the lord of all lights, a king. and now, even that he had been nothing more than a walking corpse for some number of decades, crescent was the god of the lights; a hope for all future generations.

zephyrs played through the figurine, passing through his bones which creaked with slight age. had he still been alive at this day and age, he would have seen nearly four decades, many more than any equine should be forced to walk the earth. he, however, was the one who was to make a difference. flints shuffled up a bit of dusty herbage as the snowy baron settled himself as to watch over all the graves. his glow was rather eerie, but stunning all the same and though trouble often occurred in the darkened hours, he gave hope of protection. after all, that’s what he was for; hope of protection.

mug parted ever so slightly as to emit of a soft sigh that was lost in the night’s breeze. there were many equines in which he wished he could confront, but even those who had created havoc while he had walked as a living soul had long since perished.