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A forest glade, awash with early morning light. The trees sway gently with the wind, their leaves leaving a pattern of dappled light across the forest floor. The birds sing, the squirrels chitter, and somewhere in the distance the rushing of a river can be heard.
A crack of thunder. A sudden rush of heat. The scene explodes into fire and ash. The ground splits open like a gaping maw and everything grows impossibly hotter. From the crack in the ground emerges an arching, razor-sharp structure of midnight black and blood red. Between its pillars crackles a vicious energy. A single gnarled talon breaches the field, then a whole finger, then a hand, grabbing, groping, reaching–
Sille blinked. It was over, at least for now. She leaned back down to the stream beneath her and filled her waterskin. The water was bitingly cold, but she plunged her hands into it nonetheless, trying to focus on the feeling of it rushing past her skin.
You may feel somewhat distant when it ends, Ellia had told her. As if the world around you is not truly there, or perhaps not real at all. Her hands had been gentle as she cleaned and dressed the wound on Sille’s temple. It will help to focus on your surroundings. What you can see, hear, touch.
Sille leaned back. In the rippling surface of the river she could see her own face, though distorted. The world around her was coming back into focus, if slowly. She sling her waterskin back over her shoulder and stood. As she dusted off the dirt from her skirts, her fingers tangled in the feathers at the end of her belt.
She took the end of the belt in between her fingers, feeling the texture of the weave. Hawk feathers. A gift from Kyne. She’d been presented with the belt in celebration of her seventh year at the sanctuary. Seven years in service to the goddess. Seven years as a priestess.
Seven years away.
She made her way up the twisting walkway through the sanctuary. As she climbed the stairs, she passed Brigit, hard at work with her plants. The girl looked up from her work to give Sille a bright smile and a wave, which she returned. She continued, walking as far as the path would take her, until she reached her destination.
Mother Isolde sat between the roots of the Eldergleam. Her fingers were busy with a small loom resting on her lap and she absently hummed a nameless tune. Although the belt she wove was hardly three fingers across, its pattern was a complex web of intricate interlocking lines. To the unfamiliar, Isolde appeared engrossed in her work, if a bit distracted by her humming. But Sille knew the weaving was only part of the aged priestess’ undertaking, and that she was in fact in a nearly meditative state.
Sille sat down across from Isolde to wait. The Mother’s prayers were frequent, and varied in length. She had been known to sit like this for hours. But that was an uncommon occurrence; she had responsibilities to attend to, and would never shirk them for longer than necessary.
Isolde’s humming stopped. Her fingers slowed, and her eyes opened to see Sille, sitting patiently with her legs crossed.
“Sille,” she said, smiling. “What brings you to me this morning?”
Sille shifted a bit. “You told me to come to you whenever the visions returned.”
“That I did,” Isolde said. “And they have?”
“Yes, Mother.” Sille rubbed her belt between her fingers. “There was more this time.”
“I see. And what did you see this time?” Isolde asked.
“The same as always, at first. The glade. The storm, the heat. The rift in the earth. But what changed was the gate. When it opened, there was something–”
“The gate?” Isolde interrupted.
Sille felt her cheeks turning red, though she wasn’t sure why. “That is what I’ve taken to calling… it. The structure.” It was deeply embarrassing, explaining this to the Mother. Seeing no judgement on Isolde’s face, however, she continued. “When the gate opened this time, something was trying to get through. I only saw its arm, but–” She shuddered. “I’ve never felt such terror.”
Mother Isolde nodded. “And it ended there?”
Sille nodded in response.
“And you are feeling no ill effects? No pain, no faintness?”
Sille shook her head. “I was dizzy for a moment when it ended, but it passed. I was crouched by the stream when it came over me, so I did not fall.” And praise Kyne for that. At first, the vision had come only in dreams. The first time it came to her while she was awake, she had fallen and bashed her head on a rock. The bleeding had been worse than the injury itself, but she’d almost fallen unconscious again when she awoke to see her arm covered in blood. In the time since, she’d learned to be on her guard for any sign that the vision may be returning.
“Good.” Isolde sat back against the Eldergleam. Her long white hair fell unbound from her shoulders and caught on bits of bark. She gestured to the loom on the ground before her. “What do you think?”
Sille picked up the loom and looked closer at the belt. Now that she examined it at close range, she could see that the diamond-shaped pattern mimicked the coloring of a hawk’s feather. “It’s beautiful,” she said, placing it on the ground. “May I ask what it is for?”
“Of course you may, child,” Isolde said with a smile. “It is for Brigit. I plan to present her with it next month, if she still wishes to be welcomed into the fold.”
“So soon?” Sille asked, surprised. Brigit was a sweet child, bright-eyed and always eager to learn, but she had been at the sanctuary for less than a year.
“Yes. Her time here has been short, but I believe she is ready. You think it has not been long enough, I gather. Many will agree with you.” Mother Isolde placed a hand against the Eldergleam. She closed her eyes and hummed. “Perhaps they are right. Perhaps I am not. But regardless, the choice is mine to make. We all have a part to play here, even Brigit. Even you.”
Sille’s shoulders tightened. She did not like to imagine herself having a part to play. She wanted to serve the goddess, to be with her in the world she had made. She did not want a grand destiny or a hero’s journey. She was destined to serve Kyne– she had known that since she was a little girl– and she would go wherever that might take her. But the thought of being meant for something more was absolutely terrifying.
“Sille?”
She jumped slightly at the sound of her name. She turned over her shoulder to see Katilda standing a few at the top of the stars, hands folded. She smiled at Sille and bowed her head to Isolde. “I apologize if I’ve interrupted. There is someone here to see you, Sister.”
Sille scrambled to her feet. Who would want to see her? Her parents were the obvious answer, but they would have come a long way to see her. And besides, they wrote to her each month. It would be strange to plan a visit and not inform her of it… unless something had gone very wrong.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sille saw Mother Isolde slowly climb to her feet. She reached out a hand to help her, but the old woman waved it away.
“I am fine, child. Go see your visitor. I have my own duties to attend to.”
Sille nodded and let Katilda lead her away. When they were about halfway down the climb from the Eldergleam, she turned to the other priestess.
“Do you know who it is?” she asked. “Did they say why they were here?”
Katilda shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. It’s a young woman, perhaps a few years younger than you. She did not seem to want to tell anyone why she has come here, but she seemed harmless enough. The only thing she would say is that she must see you.”
Sille furrowed her brow. She could not think of any young women who would demand to speak with her– come to think of it, every young woman she could think of was a fellow priestess. So who was this mysterious visitor?
They reached the bottom of the sanctuary. Katilda pointed towards the shaded entrance. “The woman is just within. Ellia is with her.” She took Sille’s hands in hers. “Whatever this is, I am certain that all will be well. Do not fear.”
Sille squeezed her hands. “Thank you, Kat. I hope you are right.”
She walked towards the entrance, heart pounding in her throat. Be calm, she tried to tell herself. It is likely nothing. A case of mistaken identity, perhaps. She did not believe herself any more than she had believed Katilda. As she approached the edge of the sanctuary, she saw Ellia standing with a tall blonde woman, trying– and failing– to engage her in conversation.
The woman turned her head at the sound of Sille’s approach. She glanced over her, then looked her dead in the eye.
“Sille.” It was not a question.
It took Sille a moment to recognize her. “Signy,” she said softly. Her sister. Her little sister. Here.
When in oblivion had she grown so tall?
“It is good to see you, sister,” Sille said, stepping forward. Ellia was looking at her curiously. “What brings you here?”
Signy uncrossed her arms. She wore a studded leather cuirass and a pair of thick leather boots, and there was a sword fastened to her waist. She was almost unrecognizable from the little girl she had been all those years ago. It occurred to Sille that, in the years since she had left home, she had forgotten that Signy was growing up as well.
“I’m leaving,” Signy said flatly.
“Leaving? Leaving where?” Sille asked. She was distracted by Signy’s appearance. Where could her sister have found that armor? And why was she carrying a sword?
“Skyrim. I’m joining the Legion.”
Sille thought her heart stopped for a moment. “The Legion?” Signy had always been stalwart, tenacious even, but the Imperial Legion? That was foolhardy. They would send her away, far away, to serve as a guard or a footsoldier, and if she was lucky enough to survive they might promote her, but there was no guarantee. And she was too young, besides. “Signy… you cannot.”
Signy’s eyes flashed. “You do not get to tell me what I can or cannot do, Sille. I am leaving, regardless of whether you, Mother, or Father like it.”
Sille tried to look her younger sister in the eyes, but her gaze was drawn inevitably to the scar over her left eye. She hoped the flush of shame that came over her was not visible. My fault. My negligence. She had been no older than ten when Signy got the scar, meaning her sister had been seven. A little girl, scarred for life because of her sister’s carelessness.
“Signy…” she tried to speak, but her mouth was dry. She swallowed. “Signy. You cannot just leave.”
“You left,” Signy said.
“But I did not leave Skyrim! ” Sille’s voice rose, despite her best efforts.
“You may as well have,” Signy bit back. “I have seen you fewer than five times in the seven years since you left.” The look she gave Sille was one of anger, but sadness, as well. “I no longer know you, nor do you know me. The only reason I have come here is because Mother and Father insisted that I tell you myself.”
Of course they had. Almost certainly, they’d hoped that Sille could convince her sister to stay. And she had failed them, and Signy as well. Again.
“Very well,” Sille said. She needed this conversation to end, so that she could let loose the tears she was holding back on her own. “I will pray for your safety.”
Signy stared right through her. “I am certain you will.” With that, she turned and left, leaving Sille, though surrounded by her Sisters and the creation of her goddess, utterly alone.