Thundering hooves echoed in space as the stallion raced along the beach, razors cutting into the sand with ease. Breath escaped from his flaring nostrils in harsh puffs, muscles tensing and pulsing under each fluid movement. Despite the intense effort and strength each movement claimed, the stallion seemed too fluid, almost angelic. Suddenly he came to stop, sending sand flying in all directions as he spun, whinnying and crying out for all to hear. His forelegs were pulled up to his chest, kicking hard into the air, wind catching his midnight hue mane as it blew. Another powerful whinny escaped from his vocals with excitement. Hooves met with the hot earth once again with a loud pound. Bowing his head, he breathed in the hot sand and knew that he was home again. He is Alquilo, God of Claiming, and the Strait of Alquilo is his domain.

The brute snorted at the sand and raised his head, looking around with his pure black gaze. He saw no others on his beaches. He let out a sigh as he lowered his head once more. He had come to this land long ago and was taken aback by its beauty. In his youth he had always been in the sea, so when he broke upon this terrain he believed he had found Heaven on Earth. He knew no other world and expected that others resided in this paradise. He roamed for days, searching endlessly for signs of any others. Unfortunately, he was wrong. The land was utterly deserted and he was left alone. Strangely, the stallion could not bring himself to leave. The beach and water felt too much like home, felt too much like he belonged. He could not bring himself to turn his back on such beauty, especially once it had accepted him so completely. Alquilo accepted this land as his own, claimed it, and swore on his soul that he would protect it from harm, evil forces, or anything else that sought to destroy.

The land provided everything for Alquilo, and soon he saw himself changing. He found himself sleeping less and less, no longer growing tired after days of activity and alertness. The few times he would sleep, he would awaken in almost a ghostly daze, feeling like he was outside of his body, soul wandering. These feelings oddly did not scare him. They gave Alquilo a sense of peace and oneness with this land that he had found. Events got even stranger as he found that the ocean's water healed his wounds and whispers from the trees told him secrets. He learned to listen to these whispers and discovered what he had become...
The following night, Alquilo laid his body to rest as he had done many times in his life. He let his lids fall closed, slowly and heavily, but kept his mind racing. Rather than his mind falling into a deep sleep, he focused until he felt hiimself lift out of his body that was still laying on the sandy beach. He himself was in the air, looking down upon his own image. He felt no pain, no hunger, no weight at all. He was a spirit; the spirit of the Srait of Alquilo; its sole and sworn protector. In return for his allegiance, the land had given Alquilo a magical gift to help him in his quest. Through practice and the understanding of more secrets, Alquilo perfectly mastered his new, mystical skills.

Now he stood, proud and tall on his beaches, ready to defend any that would come to him and his domain. He also swore to help those who are lost find their rightful place again. Just as he had found his. He was ready for anything, and eager for more.