THE PLOT

The gods looked down upon the realms of Mercury Isle with disapproving gazes. The Island had split up again, for the third time. This time it was the worst, it seemed. The first time it had split, it had been at the will of Desperado and Dark Magician, differentiating Mortal from Immortal, but not restricting interaction between the two races. Then came the time after Fiasco, when five royal stallions vied for sovereignity. That was when the races of Dark, Neutral and Light were born - but though there was tension between the factions, they gathered regardless at the communal Equus Lake and mingled in search for mares at Fatale Cove. This time, though, it was different. There was no diplomacy between the realms of Phoenecia, Babylonia, Sentilion and Excelius. Once a horse was sorted into a realm, they stayed there - holed up. They never left their new home, didn't go to the communal territories to mingle. They ceased the healthy sport of sparring. They stopped seeking favors and abilities from the gods.

It was as if the Island's spirit had died with the great king Celtic Storm.
What was worse was that the horses had abandoned their natural lives. Instead of establishing family groups they had created vast realms, too big for much closeness between members. And two big for any one horse to rule completely.
The gods knew they had to do something. Murmansk earth-god and Ebony Skies, god of fire and lightning, voted for the destruction of the island. Erenya, godess of water, called for its rebirth. Quiet Ilythia of the winds put in that they could do both - providing that no one was hurt.

It was decided. Murmansk would pull the island beneath the depths of the ocean. Water would cleanse the island along with fire, lightning and wind. Through this union of elements, the island would be born again.

But the details were hazy. Ebony Skies, ever the sentimentalist, argued that they shouldput the Island back as it once was in the days before Celtic Storm discovered the island.

"No." Said Erenya. "They cling to old legends. It is well that they remember Celtic Storm as a great leader, but it is also time that they let go of the past and turn their faces to the future."

"And who will lead them?" rumbled Murmansk. "We should install someone we trust to do what we think is right. For mortals tend to grab power, or they at least wish to implement new things. We must discourage this, as it leads to what we have on the island now - stagnation."

"No!" cried Ilythia. "We must encourage change, my friend! But we must be able to dictate what that change is. But I have a proposition - listen. Let us create a leader. She shall represent the island itself, the union of the elements - and she will have a direct link to us. She will be of free mind, but also of our beings. She will be the balance between us all - unchanging earth, flexible water, passion of fire and Lightning, the gentleness of wind. We will put our best qualities into her - and from her, a new race of leaders will be born."

The day of the changing came. Gentle-hearted Ilythia went down to the Mortal realm, where she bade all of the equines to retreat to what had once been Duelist Kingdom, the island home of Dark Magician. She didn't say exactly why, but the hint that something dreadful was coming, as well as the urgency she portrayed, convinced the horses. They did as they were told.

The last horse had just stepped safely onto the sands of Duelist Kingdom when it began. First there was a terrible rumbling of the earth. It cracked and shook. Bright lava shot up from the depths of the earth, and lightning lanced down from roiling clouds. The Island caught fire. The inferno was quick, and soon there was nothing left but charred soil. All the while, the earth continued to shake. With a final mighty groan, the whole island sank into the ocean with a sucking sound, and the waters rushed in and closed over the highest peaks of the mountains.

There was a moment of absolute silence - ringing silence - and then, slowly, the new island began to appear. It was a coalescing of magic. A fog sprang up, lightning sparkled inside the fog. With the union of these elements, earth began to grow. And before long, there was a new Island standing where the first had once been. Except this island was completely different. It was bigger - one of the shores was almost touching that of Duelist island, when once there had been a half-mile of water and sandbar between them. New mountains soared in the sky. New forests, new territories.

The horses stood quite still, shock running through them in tangible waves. But it wasn't over, though thankfully the next display would be much gentler. On the new white-sanded beach of Mercury Isle, lightning struck. It hung as if caught in time, flickering for much, much longer than should be possible. A wind came from across the ocean, bringing with it a cool mist of pure water. The wind picked up the sand of the beach, swirling it around the still-bright lightning. And around the perimiter of the swirling fog and sand, fire was kindled. It burned on the sand itself, where it should have no fuel.

The tempest grew brighter and brighter as the lightning and fire intensified. What was most unnerving about the show was that it went on in complete silence. No boom of thunder, no hiss of sand, no crackle of fire.

And suddenly, with a boom that was felt physically rather than heard, it all dispersed. Standing in what had been the middle of the tempest was a mare. She was a fine specimen, touched by the gods - nay, made by the gods. She was perfect in every way - from delicate ears to a slender frame. Her coat was absolutely pure white, without even the tint of black skin beneath the hair. Upon her shoulders she bore two enormous, graceful wings with feathers that shimmered like a metallic rainbow from blue to red to green to purple, then back to blue again. But the most remarkable parts of her were her markings. Upon her forehead she bore a circlet of pure gold - a coronet to signify her nature as Chosen One of the gods. A bright white stone was set in the circlet, right in the middle of her forehead. It shone brightly with a light not from the sun, but from deep inside the crystal itself.

Finally, the mare had four other markings. On her left side, just below the point of her shoulder, fire flickered. Or - seemed to flicker. The representation of it on her coat was so realistic that - for a moment - one could almost believe that it was hot. On the right side of her delicate face, the mare bore a single, large dark blue teardrop. A representation of water.

The sigil for air was found on her left haunch - a swirl of purple resembling the swirls that artists frequently use to represent the wind. The final marking was to be found on her barrel, just behind her right elbow. This was a small picture of the jutting peaks of a mountain. The symbol of earth.

"My name is Laurelydel." She said quietly - and everyone heard her, even those farthest away. "I have been sent by the gods to make your society anew. They chose to make me so that I represent the four elements we are surrounded by - Fire and Lightning, which are the same and different simultaneously. Water - we drink it to survive, yet we never marvel at its flexibility. Earth - the strong, hard base of all things, but also nurturer to plants and animals like us. And Wind, who is as flexible as water, with a fierce edge and a soft edge, giving more easily than water, and therefore representing gentleness.

"Now, come with me and we will explore our new island. And then - to work!"