The Crown Of Ash and Silver
“Before I woke up… there was fire. And a voice.”
“The Goddess,” said the High Cleric, bowing his head. “She spoke to you.”
Elysia tried to recall the words, but they slipped through her mind like water through open hands. Only a feeling remained: the warmth of love promised in exchange for obedience. Her throat tightened.
“She said I would be loved if I obeyed.”
“That is Her mercy,” he said. “The Light loves those who serve without question.”
She nodded faintly. The idea brought comfort, though it sat strangely in her chest, a kindness too sharp to touch.