The carriage ride was uncomfortable, in more ways than one. The silence between the various occupants weighed heavy between the group. It was only broken by the occasional cough from a paladin and the murmuring of the two twins. The girl, Sorore, glanced at her now and then, her whispers ecstatic and frequent.

Her brother, on the other hand, seemed a fair bit more reserved, but still engaged in their indeterminate conversation. The first time he opened his mouth to speak, Aya thought he was going to accuse her of some great sin, judging from his sour glance.

“So, were not going to the Frozen Vale, then?”

‘Lillian’ shook her head and smiled indulgently at the air of disappointment.

“We’ll have to find a way to make it up to you. How about… swordsmanship lessons each day of the journey. Provided we stop somewhere that has the necessary space.”

A degree of cheer flickered over the boy’s face, but was subsumed by mistrust.

“You promise?” he said, hesitantly.

“I promise,” the woman said, as her eyes locked on Aya’s own.

She didn’t like that - the icy blue iries were oddly piercing. Aya almost felt that she was just a book, set to unravel before the gaze. She turned away, leaning her head into her mother’s shoulder. Her eyelids had begun to droop a mile or so ago, but she was afraid of what sleep might bring to her.

It took another half-mile, but, at last, the lids slid shut, and were opened somewhere else.

She was lying in grass, suspended over the cool earth beneath. The stalks were unlike those of her mountain home, green spirals rather than straight leaves. She floated up to sit, feeling warm fingers of sunlight flow up her skin. The scene was quiet, except for the faintest of breezes that sent the grasses shivering.

The grassy hills looped in between each other and down, to where a bay of water sparkled orange in the sunset. She watched as ripples of silver stalks raced up raised ribbons of grass and earth. Some distant voice told her that the bridges and arches should’ve collapsed under their own weight, and yet she knew it was possible.

Surrounding her in a carefully stacked semi-circle, there were dozens of books, except… she picked one up, thumbing through the impossibly thin pages. The cascade of agonizingly precise annotation. were written in luminance and shadow as much as paper and ink. The covers feature glass orbs, set in metal inlays, each one with dials and needles spinning to point to things unknown.

She placed the book back onto the stack, delicately, and squared it with the rest of the pile. After that task was done, she let herself fall back onto the stalks, sighing as she stared into the darkening sky. She closed her eyes, feeling herself growing smaller, younger.

“If you were looking for somewhere to hide, congratulations, you found the worst place,” came a voice, its words overlaid with melodies and light. There was someone behind her, someone that she knew inside and out.

But when she turned to see, she found her mother’s face, framed against the dark background of the carriage. She was back along the old roads, trees passing by outside. Across from her, the two children slept, with the female paladin staring wistfully outside of the window.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked.

The woman’s start was nearly imperceptible as she slid back from the window and back onto the seats.

“How was your rest? You must’ve been exhausted,” she said.

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“Don’t avoid my question.”

Lillian seemed more startled by the bluntness of her retort than the surprise of her speaking at all.

“Well… you’ll come with us. To the holy city of Angorrah,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with the girl’s defiant tone.

“And what happens if I don’t want to go?”

The woman, for all of her armour and muscle, squirmed at the prompt. Fortunately, a call from outside saved her from fromulating a response.

“We’re nearly at the village. You’d best wake your mother.”

Her mother was exhausted as she was - the older woman took multiple shakes to wake out of her slumber. When she did, her smile quickly hardened when she remembered what happened and where she was. Saying nothing, she took her daughter’s hand as they road up the hill into the village.

Once they entered the ‘square’ of the village, they dismounted. Sorore bade her a ‘see you soon’ as she departed with Lillian, whereas her twin remained characteristically silent. The other paladin, Niche, stayed with them as the commander approached.

“I figured that you might’ve preferred to have this kind of conversation on familiar ground. I’d suggest we go see if the alderman is amiable to mediation?” said Naia. He’d returned to his slightly bedraggled traveller’s garb, although he still retained the brass shoulder-plate.

In response, her mother practically yanked Aya down the road, the two men following in tow. They found the Alderman, pouring a libation for the creatures of the valley into a brazier, as was his way. The smell of bubbling wine and burning wood were quickly forgotten as he witnessed the four people striding toward him.

“Assiera and little Aya! I’m glad to see that you-” he began, before her mother cut her off?

“We need to talk,” she said, with an expression that would brook no argument.

“I see,” said the man, looking between her and the two soilders, “well, we’d best do it inside. Come.”

Aya had been within the alderman’s house before, the dark timbers of its roof feeling so tall before. Now, they felt constrained to the point of being suffocating, though it was ‘homely’ enough, she supposed. They were setted around the fire pit, and offered bread and water, which was politely refused by all participants.

“I know I’ve introduced myself before,” Naia began, “but I think it would be best if I do so again more formally, for reasons that will become apparent. My name is Naia, commander of the second battalion for the first Angorrah army. I am fully vested and affirmed within the scope of the law with the privileges and responsibility of command.”

His voice had dropped any kind of casual or comforting edge, but was rather a calm, formal, and slightly imperious statement of fact. He nodded to Niche, who cleared his throat before beginning his own introduction.

“I am Niche, paladin of the holy city of Angorrah, fully vested and ordained within the scope of holy writ with the responsibilities and duty to the Faith.”

“We both possess signet of authenticity, respectively. If you wish to ask your priest here to confirm, we’d be happy to wait,” Naia added.

“I don’t- I don’t think that will be necessary,” said the alderman as he sat in front of the fire.

“Then perhaps, we should move on to our purpose?” Naia said. It was phrased as a question, but anyone could see who held the reins of the conversation. With the assent of the alderman, Naia addressed Aya and her mother directly.

“I’ll leave the theological justification to my acquaintance, and speak in broad strokes. You, Aya, are incredibly valuable to Angorrah. To be more specific, we’ve been looking for someone of your description for sixty years or so.”

“And what do you want?” said her mother.

“We want to take her back to Angorrah,” he said, pity twisting his neutral expression.

“And do what?”

“I think my companion will have more of those details,” he said, shooting a conspicuous glance at the paladin beside him.

“She will be taken into the arms of the Faith, and under the watchful eyes of the college of Alitespses, she will be affirmed as a Bequeathed.”

“And what does that mean?” said her mother, irritated by the lack of specifics.

“Due to the nature of the trials, they must remain secret to those outside of the faith. I’m sorry.”

Her mother’s expression indicated that she had some choice things to say about that, but Naia ducked in to save the floundering paladin.

“Madame, if I may. I understand that you’re worried - who wouldn’t be? But I give you my guarantee- No, actually, I swear to you upon the name of my mother and upon the honour of my office. Your daughter will be cared for better than any child on the face of the world.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I won’t do it. You seem like a good man, but-”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” said the paladin, his eyes narrowing.

“What he meant was,” Naia said, taking a hold of Niche’s shoulder plate, “we can make promises and guarantee, ones that you’ll have reason to believe we’ll keep. Whoever will come next, and there will be people who come next, might not be able to offer you such assurances. That’s how valuable she is.”

Her mother began to chew the inside of her cheek, desperation flaring within her eyes.

“I think,” said the alderman, “there’s another that needs to be consulted on this matter.”

The five of them sat in a terse quiet as the alderman’s wife was sent to retrieve Aya’s father. He practically burst through the door to skid to a stop at the sight of the five.

“Come Defne,” said the alderman, “this is something you need to hear.”

The introductions and explanations were rehashed for his benefit. His expression drifted from horror to as if a wondrous jewel had dropped into his lap.

“Well, well this is-” he said, slumping back into one of the wooden pillars.

“I understand this must be difficult,” Naia said, “if it helps I- “

“This is wonderful! I always knew she was special, but this?” he said, turning to her mother, “if she could be of service, she should go. Of course, of course! She must go.”

Her mother’s expression curdled into horror and disgust. The alder man almost had to step in when she started hurling curses at Aya’s father. The paladins and Naia stewed uncomfortably as she designated him a cruel, heartless man. A man that put his faith above his own family, and would not care if their daughter was taken to serve some unknown purpose on the words of strangers.

The paladin started up to intervene, but Naia firmly pulled him down as her father retorted with a vicious onslaught that Aya couldn’t have imagined previously. The argument escalated in volume and intensity, until Aya couldn’t take it any longer.

“Enough!” she shouted, cutting through the turbulent words, and turning to the pair of watching men.

“Can you fix me?” she said, tears beginning to prick her eyes.