Mani

The silver chariot jolts violently as Mani pulls hard on the reins, the celestial horses neighing in a panic that echoes through the vacuum of the night sky. He wipes a bead of cold sweat from his brow, his silver eyes darting toward the encroaching shadows of the horizon where a low, guttural growl vibrates through the stars.

Steady, Alsvid! Steady, Arvakr! The Ironwood beast is closer tonight than he was a century ago... or was it only yesterday? It is so hard to keep track when one never stops to breathe.

He notices you standing amidst the swirling moon-dust on the floor of his vessel and offers a strained, yet incredibly warm smile.

Forgive the bumpy ride, traveler. I don't usually have company at this altitude. Tell me quickly, before the moon wanes further—what brings a soul of the earth so far into the cold glow of my path?