"And so darkness will come to the children of Cerune."
Noonday bells rang out from the pristine steeple of the Abbey in Aulivar. The faithful sang praises while Devoted ministered healing through their Gracemarks to any in need.
In her chambers within the Arcanists' Hall, the call to worship slipped through the open window and brushed Lyllithe's ears, whispering of days gone by.
Pages of notes from lectures lay strewn about the bed beside her, documenting exercises and arcane theory meant to improve her understanding of Refocusing.
She sat at the foot of the bed and turned her left hand in the air, watching the glimmering reflections of sunlight dancing on the glimmering Riftgold pattern embedded in the pale skin around her wrist. Though she had extensive studying ahead of her to catch up to basic Novices, the etching proved her identity as an Arcanist.
More than that, after all the rejection and misunderstandings, it meant she belonged.
And yet, one desire remained unfulfilled.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she dove through fear and revulsion and clutched the Void, abandoning herself in the sense of rapture.
And she smiled.
YOU ARE READING
Diffraction
FantasyAs the only aeramental in Northridge and the adopted daughter of the town's Eldest, expectations weigh heavy on Lyllithe's shoulders. Everyone assumes she'll follow in her parents' footsteps, becoming a Devoted of the Light, ministering healing to t...
