>>6154967Once again, it’s something she only shared with you. After you four (plus the Asterite heathen, you guess), complete Carnaval’s so-called ‘diplomatic’ mission, you will share a few more words with Willow. In the meantime, you are positive that having her visit the Temple will do her good.
Even if its sacred ground is currently stained by another Asterite — but Ansàrra willing, it won’t be for long.
“I think I saw something!” Comes another voice from behind you three.
Rubida joins you, her long black hair flowing in the wind.
She waits for you to speak.
Uh, this is still — new — to you. The Rubida you dealt with for months, the aloof, moody Maduan noble would little more than whisper cruel jokes about you and send you veiled threats.
That girl has evaporated like snow, leaving behind your trustful friend.
One more thing you should be grateful for. When the Temple is cleaned, you will pray in it.
“What did you see?”
“Did you catch the Crow at last?” Willow asks.
“Nay, nothing of the sort. But some of these shadows are shifting.”
You consider her words, tossing a look ahead at your guide, about twenty paces ahead. The blonde figure of Sandora Mirari is striking, her mantle flowing behind her, as she looks around, the visor covering her jade eyes. You still hesitate to consider her an ally. You never liked Asterites, and heathen from the Throne do not figure well in your book.
But she has proven dependable so far — and besides, even as the eventide is rapidly approaching, there’s four of you here.
Sandora seems caught in her own thoughts, crossing her arms and regarding the horizon, seemingly at the spot where the silvery planetary ring joins it, crossing into the blue sky. She doesn’t turn her head to look at you.
“It could just be a trick of the light on this surface,” you try. But it would be wise to listen to the insights of your group’s scout. “Was it close?”
“It was not,” she clenches her armoured fist and the white scales of the armour set she shares with you crinkle. “But it did feel like it was.”
“Now that’s confusing,” Willow asks.
“Can you explain that again?” Soralisa follows, her mouth curling in a wrinkle of interest.
“Wait. I know. It reminded me of—” Rubida shudders. She hesitates, her other hand rubbing her arm, where her childhood wound rests. You set your hand against her shoulder and she leans in. “Of what we faced in the Well. The mirrored shades. And before that, even, as if the very area before us was bent, like light through a piece of glass.”
Willow inhales sharply.
And you do understand.
You reach for your white-edged sword.
“Call the Asterite. There is—”
[cont.]
