The TwiceBorn

Spirit, Defined

                                    "I Will Love You Like The World Is Ending"--Charlotte Ericksson

The area was empty, the air stale with incense that had saturated the wood. A fire still burned in the long pit and the angled benches appeared to crouch as if in wait of something glorious to descend from the Sanctuary. 

Alora paused to look at all the carvings. She ran her fingers lightly over all the battles between good and evil. The triumphant Sentinels and the cowering demons. A small tickle began down in her chest and slowly worked its way up into her throat. It spread to her lips and caused them to stretch wider and wider as she began to laugh. 

This had once been a place of immense power. Alora could still feel it, crouching in the corners and skittering about in the shadows made by the firelight. But most of it was gone. She was only catching remnants of what remained, the rest having fled or been called home by their false god to perhaps re-emerge on another day, in a town less...complicated.

Even though this gave her a deep sense of satisfaction, she had no awareness of Islinn being nearby. The light the girl carried emanated from her and Alora had always been acutely aware of it but nothing around her told her that Islinn was nearby. There was a gutted feel to the building, along with something else Alora couldn't quite put her finger on.

She frowned as she wandered along, running her fingers over all the carvings, touching them but not really seeing them or what they represented. Her mind spun along an empty track as she tried to figure out what was making her feel...something...through the black smoke of her mind.

Expectation

Alora stopped. Something was still here and waiting. Crouched amongst the benches and even threaded into the notches of every carving. Something dark and viscid. Alive. It had no light; Alora would have known that immediately. Yet...it had no discernable darkness either. It just simply was. And whatever it was, it made Alora feel as though the entire temple was holding its collective breath.

She slowly backed away from the carvings, wiping her fingers on her bloody jerkin. The screams and cries on the other side of the temple doors were dim and far away. Yes,there was power out there. Jordakath the Dusk-Bringer carried the power to connect one world to another; the UnderRealms and the vision of the world he wanted it to be.  And she had power, far more than she had ever wanted and if she chose, she could set this world on fire and laugh while it burned.

Then there was Islinn's power.

Alora dropped her head back on her shoulders and closed her eyes. In a way, the girl's power reminded her of all the shop lanterns she'd seen in the end-of-the-road towns. The light they spread made the night a little less frightening...and it made small patchwork houses...homes.

 It...protected...people. And it didn't choose which people...it was given to anyone who had a lantern, even lanterns with broken glass or no glass at all because Islinn was the flame inside....the light that shown through the glass of those lanterns and while the wind might extinguish one light, there were many more to take its place and...

Alora suddenly opened her eyes and looked around, confused. How had she come to be here? Blixen had been quick to accuse her of "playing small" but now...now...she was playing far beyond her means. Beyond her own sanity.