The Throne was soaked in crimson, invisible to the eyes but pungent in the air of memories that surrounded this place. Countless newborns had been birthed here, even Wynter himself. He loathed to return to the throne, but his subconscious had stumbled him here. A brilliant, bright cluster of stars danced high above, marking this point in sharp contrast to the tiny freckles of light that pricked the rest of the cavern's roof.

The Throne Room always smelled like so many things to Wynter. Even now, he could pick up the faint smell of Vazi, the deer who haunted his memories. Tiny bunches of grass grew here in the corners of the run down building-- perhaps his hunger had drawn him. That was what he chose to accept as he nibbled at the edges of the throne, ignoring the constant pressure that seemed to exude from it.

Once there had been a King. And another King. And so on, so forth, always a King and a Kingdom that shattered. He could feel it here-- this place brought those who wished to be seen from high above, worshiped... Wynter shuttered at the thought, closing his vibrant eyes. His throat felt dry and sore and he pulled at his magic, trying to swallow the truth that lingered at the edges of his mind.

The deer-sheep hybrid raised his head, brilliant blue crystals upon his head glistening in the light of the stars.

"Why can't I get this out of my head?" Wynter muttered to himself, gaze flickering to the bright cluster above his head. "The past is in the past." And truth be told, he wasn't even sure how much of the past he made up in his own mind. What was memories and what was just daydreams? If Vazi did exist, why hadn't he come? This was supposed to be his home, wasn't it...?