Winter on the Isle of Spirits, seven years ago…

Every year, without fail, the final days of the Last Seed leading into the spring of a new year are always the coldest, the landscape completely blanketed in snow.

Each winter is a time of rest for those in Order of Selene. With land and sea alike all but frozen over in ice and snow, few would visit the Isle of Spirits, Light’s Hope, or the Chantry of Eternal Light. But these final days of the year are also a time of preparation for those in the latter – the First Seed of a new year, in the thawing warmth where snow would melt away to give way to the renewal of life, is the time when new initiates enter the Order of Selene, training to be Paladins and Healers in service of Rinnah, the God of Life, Light, Love, Creation, and Memory.

Thus, the blood-red colour of the shroud and the massive silver claymore of the lone Wanderer who arrived at the Chantry’s gates in the dead of night stuck out like a sore thumb. When the Paladins and Healers on guard duty saw her face… or at least, what they could make of it as golden eyes returned their gazes through the eye slits of a damaged silver mask… they could not help but recoil in horror.

Who was she? They wondered even as they eyed the Wanderer’s charge – a petite, Nameless Girl with short purple hair and a scar running across her left eye, barely older than ten winters. She lay asleep in her arms, wrapped warmly in snow-stained furs. This Nameless Girl bore the ill taint of dark magic, of forces unknown and feared even on holy ground. And to that as well, they wondered – who was she?

Were it not for the Wanderer’s golden eyes, the Paladins and Healers watching her would have thought her a Monster, possibly even a Demon from the dark tales of old from the Codex Rinnah. They stood to block her way hesitantly, only to be awed by the sight of the Executor’s Sigil she revealed to them, tucked away beneath the blood-red folds of her shrouded armour. When they backed away shyly, she allowed herself a small, wry smile with her colourless, cracked lips as she continued onward, her footsteps like blood in the mud.

Word of her return spread quickly through the cloistered halls of the Chantry of Eternal Light. When she reached the courtyard, her eyes set on the Sepulchre of God, a massive crowd of Paladins and Healers had gathered around her. Most of them were still in their bedclothes, having rushed out of bed upon hearing word that the Executor of the Order of Selene had returned home after so many years. She who had once been merely more than a legend and rumour among those studying and training here now stood among them in the flesh.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

While some in the gathered crowd whispered amongst themselves, others offered their magics to tend to the Nameless Girl’s affliction. They were gently rebuffed by the Wanderer. It was not her intention to do so if she could help it – she greatly appreciated their concern and compassion, and it was a most comforting thought to know that the Order’s values and ideals remained alive and well even in her absence. But alas, she knew of only one Healer who could save the Nameless Girl – the Ecclesiarch of the Order of Selene. It was why she had braved the elements, crossing land and sea alike, if only for the sake of a ghost of a chance to save her life.

Upon reaching the cold stone stairs leading up to the Sepulchre of God, the gathered Paladins and Healers stood aside respectfully. Some knelt, while others bowed their heads solemnly in prayer. As she passed them, it was a bittersweet feeling for the Wanderer.

The antechamber was well-lit, servants on duty amid the lavish luxury letting her through wordlessly, as if expecting her. She wondered if the Ecclesiarch was working late, as she was wont to do most nights. After all, she was once part of those many late nights, working alongside her Healer. For she was once her Executor, her Paladin. The Order of Selene, once theirs to watch over together.

Wordlessly, the servants at the great doors leading into the Sepulchre bowed and let her in. And she was right – the Ecclesiarch was up late again.

“Iris…”

“Let us get to work at once, Lady Claire Silverlight,” Iris instructed curtly upon noticing the darkness enshrouding the Nameless Girl, gesturing to a nearby couch. “This child…”

“I did what I could to keep her alive on the way here,” Claire answered solemnly as she gently set the Nameless Girl down, removing the snow-stained furs wrapped around her. “But only you can end this curse of hers, old friend. Please.”

“I will do what I can for her.”

The Wanderer… the one once known to her peers and subordinates in the Order of Selene as Claire Silverlight, nodded and stepped aside. Watching Iris work miracles with her mastery of the Healer’s art was a delight for sore eyes. Witnessing Apocalypse, the great living magical tome born of the Akashic Record itself, glow golden while its mistress channelled Dispel Magic on the darkness afflicting the Nameless Girl… felt nostalgic, if anything.

But this was a great darkness to overcome, even for the Ecclesiarch of the Order of Selene. It was the fog before sunrise, the darkest night before the break of the brightest dawn. For the first time in a long time, Claire found herself mouthing the words of a prayer once close to her heart long ago, eyes closed as she clasped her hands tightly.

It was all she could do. Hold out hope, and pray. That Rinnah willing… it was not too late.