The memories of his lost friends and loved ones lingered long after his return from Hak Etme. For Ray he could leave flowers at Aumakua. For Harper he could drink a silent toast at sunset. But for Maea - lost now in seasons past, presumed dead in the desert - he had been at a loss. She was no daughter of Safrin, her soul once-claimed by the Voice and now by Dygra, and he was uncertain whether that goddess now held her in some fiery afterlife or if the Ancients joined Caido's other souls in Mort's realm.
He passed through the Burrows, night above and below the burning land, his feet a silent whisper over black stone. Starlight twinkled from the tines of his trident, casting a faint light that was enough for him to find his way to the ancient - and now Ancient - temple held within the darkened halls.
True, he paused at its entrance. He was no follower of Dygra, but neither was she an enemy, and he had come today seeking peace. Peace for himself, to lay one of his ghosts to rest. He finally stepped within, making his slow, deliberate way to the altar cube in the middle of the black, black room, and bowed with reverent courtesy to it.
Blood, he knew, was the usual offering to the Ancient goddess, but his blood was filled with starlight and not for her to taste. And so it was rubies that he scattered across the black mirror surface, perfect and polished to a scintillating clarity as he let the stillness of prayer come over him.
"Dygra. Greetings, and my respects. Please, watch over Maea as I could not. And let her find peace." And though he lapsed back into silence he remained with his head bowed, lost in memory and an old, quiet grief.
He passed through the Burrows, night above and below the burning land, his feet a silent whisper over black stone. Starlight twinkled from the tines of his trident, casting a faint light that was enough for him to find his way to the ancient - and now Ancient - temple held within the darkened halls.
True, he paused at its entrance. He was no follower of Dygra, but neither was she an enemy, and he had come today seeking peace. Peace for himself, to lay one of his ghosts to rest. He finally stepped within, making his slow, deliberate way to the altar cube in the middle of the black, black room, and bowed with reverent courtesy to it.
Blood, he knew, was the usual offering to the Ancient goddess, but his blood was filled with starlight and not for her to taste. And so it was rubies that he scattered across the black mirror surface, perfect and polished to a scintillating clarity as he let the stillness of prayer come over him.
"Dygra. Greetings, and my respects. Please, watch over Maea as I could not. And let her find peace." And though he lapsed back into silence he remained with his head bowed, lost in memory and an old, quiet grief.
