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[color=cf8057][b]#cf8057[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://ibb.co/6Jff3vv7][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=9b9b9b][b]Kingdom of Moonreach[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]I still remember my first day in the Church of Cindrel. It had only been a few weeks since my time as a crusader came to an end. All at once, life became about a different kind of survival than what I’d become accustomed to. My monsters were no longer that of shadows. They did not bare fangs and claws, or potent venoms, or the strength of behemoths packaged in slender, nimble shapes. Instead, I had to fight to climb out of bed in the morning. I waged war with myself so that I would eat. At night I slept in the sense that I was in bed with my eyes closed, but my dreams took me back to the distant places outside the walls, where I watched men and women die at my side, helpless to do anything about it. In a way it was easier to fight a war with the world and its real monsters, because my new survival became the search for a reason to want to survive in the first place. I was losing. 

It was a rainy day, much like today. Just a week before, I left my home because I could no longer bear the memory of what was. Paying for, preparing and eating food had become so much of a chore that I couldn’t bring myself to do it for several days by that point. I was at my wit’s end, and I laid against the first building I stumbled against, and I hoped that the sleep that found me next would be eternal and dreamless. Instead, I woke up to Ayda. She pulled me to my feet with a strength that surprised me. I protested. She did not care to hear it. Instead, she brought me to the cathedral she lived in. The Church of Cindrel. Through that front door I found a new community, a new home, a new reason to live. 

They taught me about their Goddess. Cindrel, The Mistress of Fire, brought warmth and safety and life to those who embraced her gift as a tool. It cooked their food, it kept them alive during harsh winters, it kept wolves and other beasts away even before moonlite was brought to our lands. They talked at length with me by the hearth, sharing their stories and food and clothes and bedding and so much more and asked for nothing in return. I could never hope to repay their kindness, though Ayda went to great lengths to assure me it was not necessary. I still hope today that their kindness towards me does not cost them too greatly. I learned the hard way that kindness is not free. 

Four years I spent as a crusader, and four years thereafter I spent in the warm embrace of Cindrel and Her people. I learned to sew. My short hair became long and I relearned how to take care of it. I became close to Ayda and the other nuns in my own way. They never pressured me to open up more than I wanted to, even though I know that they know how nightmares still plague me each night. One time, I remember they asked about my eye. We were spending the day scrubbing down and hanging up dirty laundry that had accumulated, as it tends to. I explained the wound was from a werebat that descended from the trees, at such an angle I barely caught a glimpse of it before it reached me. Fortunately, it only scraped me, though the venom that secrets from its claws permanently damaged my vision. By the time I finished telling the tale, I realized the whole room had hushed to listen. They are curious, but respectful people. 

At some point in time, this place became a new normal. I no longer had to worry about a beast mauling me to death in my sleep. The people around me were more permanent than not, and I did not have to worry about which faces I would lose the following day, nor how long it would take for time to smear the details in my memory of them. I was the closest I had been to happy since the day before I enlisted in lieu of my brother. But yesterday, they returned. Knights donned in moonlite armor that shimmered even in the faintest light. In all my time here, they’d never shown up. Not once. So I knew the moment they arrived that they were here for me. 

Ayda was the first to protest. She physically interposed herself between the knights and me. I had already served my time. Had they not seen how much it already cost me? What could the King possibly want from me that he had not already taken? She used cruder words than how I summarize it. It stirred everyone else into a frenzy. Before I knew it, all the faces that I’d come to know by name had stopped what they were doing, they filled the room and armed themselves with the metal pokers from the fire, rolling pins, whatever they could get their hands on. When Ayda insisted that she go to my place, I finally snapped awake from my trance. I did not want to see her broken the way I had been. So I placed my hand on her shoulder, and I told her that it would be okay. 

I had a day to gather my belongings, and found myself alone in my room not long after the encounter with the knights. I sat before my dresser, scissors in hand, staring at myself in the mirror. I felt numb. I must have been like that for quite some time, because eventually Ayda found herself in my room and carefully worked the scissors out of my fingers that I had not realized were trembling. She gave me a look that I recognized as a question. I do not remember if I said something, or merely nodded, but either way she began to cut away at the hair that I’d spent all that time with them growing out. It wasn’t smart to have long hair as a crusader. If you were dead, it wouldn’t matter how your hair looked. 

They’ve done more for me today than my family did when I first enlisted into the army. Outside they’ve prepared a pyre. In order to pray to Cindrel, one will write a letter or offer up an item of significance to cast into the flames. I do not know if I believe in Cindrel or not. Maybe, in the time before the eclipse, she existed. Whether or not she is here now though is not something I can comment on as confidently as my peers. Sometimes they claim to see her visage in the fire after a prayer, but I never have. Perhaps it is because they have twice the vision that I do. Or maybe Cindrel would not waste her time with someone such as myself. 

I think that some part of me is afraid, but it is so distant that it feels beyond me, as though I am observing my emotions as an outside party. I do not know if I am writing to her or to Micha. I wonder if I die, if I will meet either of you beyond the veil. I hope that regardless of what happens, or who I see when I am gone, that Ayda and the others will continue to live peacefully from behind these walls. Without them I would not know how to live. The reason that I fight is so that they will never have to face the horrors I will soon meet again at the behest of King Vorn.

Thank you for these last four years, Ayda.

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Eden stared into the pyre as her letter wilted away into ash and smoke. All around her the other nuns approached and burned their own prayers into the wind. There was an uneasy silence among them all. The crackle of wood filled the space between them. She watched as Lyra approached the flames, holding a small idol that Eden whittled for her over a year ago. It wasn’t anything special. Only now did she remember that she’d made it for her. Lyra’s eyes met hers, as though she could feel her gaze, and she looked away as the gift became kindling to the flames. 

Her good eye began to sting because she knew that Lyra wanted to help the best way she knew how. A prayer to her goddess Cindrel, one that would bring Eden back to her in time. They didn’t burn pyres like this every night. In times of great need or distress, they would gather all the firewood they could muster and come to this place behind the cathedral. Their solace brought them together and the fire warmed them as they communed with their goddess. It wasn’t said, but this was a way for them to cope with the loss of Eden. As the realization came to pass she could no longer bear to be here. 

So she briskly returned to her room, brushing shoulders with Ayda as she walked past. She took measured, controlled breaths. Her composure was an iron sphere loosely balanced by twigs, held together with pinestraw. Their prayers took a spark to it. She could barely hold it together when faced with the heat of their kindness. So instead of facing their somber music, she busied herself by preparing for the morning. Beneath her bed there was a long box, and within it contained relics that she couldn’t have burned to Cindrel even if she wanted to. 

On top was a sheathed sword. Its grip was far too comfortable in Eden’s hand. She carefully took it out, holding it by its grip and sheath, and she slowly pulled until the moonlite blade was partially revealed. Even in its time stowed away, she could still see her reflection in the metal. She pushed it back in, until the crossguard clicked against the sheath, and she set it aside. Next was the armor. She preferred chainmail as opposed to the full body suits of armor that the knights of the castle wore. They were loud and obtrusive, and while over the years their joints had been finely crafted so that they were easier to move around in, Eden could never quite get used to the claustrophobic feeling of being within one of them. It was like wearing a coffin to battle. 

So instead she donned chainmail. It shimmered with a silver hue in the light. She wore it over a thin shirt so that it wouldn’t pinch her skin, and then she found a cloak in the closet to wear over that. Moonlite, as useful as it was, caught light far too easily. Even in pitch black darkness its radiance could be observed. She could not deny its utility as armor, but she didn’t want to compromise her ability to be hidden as a consequence. It was a lesson she learned quickly as a crusader, and when she began to lead her own groups, cloaks that concealed as much moonlite as possible became mandatory. Those who did not comply were eventually used as decoys so that those who could hide had better odds of escape. She stifled a groan as she all at once remembered the difficult decisions she had to make back then, and wondered how many would need to make in the near future. 

When there was nothing left to do she sat on the edge of her bed and waited until morning. Eden did not dare lay her head down to rest. Even now, the nightmares could be felt on the edge of her mind, skirting nearer to the forefront. Only they felt realer now than they had in a long time. If she went to sleep and dreamed, it would not be a memory of her past. Instead, they would take the shape of premonitions of her near future. How was she going to die? Would her fate be as merciful as death? Sometimes, people weren’t just killed. Occasionally, they’d vanish. There would be no answers as to where they went. No bodies found, no tracks to be followed. Eden agonized for months over the disappearance of one of her fellow crusaders, until she realized it was pointless. She just had to hope that she would never be unfortunate enough to meet such a mysterious fate, because there were some things she just wouldn’t be able to plan for. 

Ayda joined her late into the night. Eden had been silent, and the candles she used as light had burned out, so she did not know how Ayda knew she was awake. Perhaps, after all this time, she just knew her well enough to know. Or maybe it wasn’t because she was screaming in her sleep. In either case, she sat next to her and said nothing. She placed a hand over Eden’s, seemed to pause when she realized there was already a studded gauntlet over it, and sighed. Eden did not meet her gaze— could not find her eyes. She knew that if she did, she would cry. And she needed to be stronger than that. 

In the early morning she left without ceremony. Or tried to. Some people were awake earlier than usual. Eden had so many tired faces she wondered if anyone managed to sleep last night. Lyra ran up and hugged her before she could make it to the door. Eden stood there awkward and stiff. She had to move the hilt of her sword, which now hung from her left side, so that it did not jab Lyra in the hip as they embraced. In time, she managed to work her arms around her. 

[color=d6d6d6]“I’ll miss you.”[/color]

Those weren’t the words Eden wanted to hear. When she left, she wanted this church to return to how it was before she even arrived. She never deserved their kindness. They took her in without question, giving purpose to her life which had already run its course. She’d lost the only family she had, and they took her under their wing and sheltered her free of cost. Only, it did have a cost. Eden realized now, in some ironic twist of fate, that she really didn’t belong here. They would have to suffer the consequences of losing her now because of that sole fact. That was the cost of their kindness. 

[color=cf8057]“I’m sorry.”[/color]

Lyra gave her an incredulous look because she could not fathom why Eden would apologize to her. Before she could ask, the crusader stepped around her and made for the door. These long, solemn goodbyes weren’t something she was good at. She’d done it once with her brother. She did not want to do it again. Even so, she wondered if Ayda was still sitting in her bedroom. She wondered how long it would take for someone to find and comfort her, as she’d done for Eden throughout the night. 

The ground was wet. The air was cold. Eden was numb. People around her stumbled to move out of her way as she walked past them. Her face was blank, but she carried with her a level of confidence with every step that could only mean she was of King Vorn’s military. That only became more certain as with each street she turned down took her closer and closer to the castle. There was a checkpoint before she could be allowed in. She waited in line, staring down at her feet, walking forwards another few paces as the people in front of her were let in one by one. 

[color=d6d6d6]“Name and reason for entry?”[/color]

She sighed and the words that followed were practiced, as though spoken hundreds of times already.

[color=cf8057]“Eden Ainsley. I’m a crusader with summons from King Vorn.”[/color][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
	 
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