408 P.D.
On a misty predawn morning, Brigid stood waiting beside the road leading to Northvale Abbey. She gathered the fabric of her cloak about her and shivered. While the moisture in the prevailing sea winds of early spring had given her a chill, she knew it was her nerves that were the source of the shaking. Unfortunately, no amount of layering could keep her worry at bay. Still, she clutched a light blanket in her arms in anticipation.
Weeks ago, she had received word that Eya would be returning home early; long before she had expected to see her again. Initially overjoyed at the news, Brigid had begun to fret as the day drew closer. The campaign in which she had been fighting was anticipated to take years and was still being fought. Sending a valuable Shadow Singer home from the front lines did not bode well and she was not privy to the details. The only thing that the Abbess had been told was that she was returning to recuperate, so Brigid had to forcibly constrain herself from trying to speculate about exactly what that meant or how bad it would be. She contented herself with the determination that anything which got the girl away from their perpetual war against the Nine Hells was a welcome development.
As the sun began to show above the distant mountains to the east, she spotted a horse-drawn cart coming up the road from Northvale. The dwarf's heart leapt when it was close enough that she could see a spot of red in the back, bobbing in time with its bouncing.
The vehicle came to a stop in front of her and Eya, now a young adult, slowly climbed off the back. She shouldered a travel pack and turned to face her Abbess. Brigid acknowledged and thanked the driver, who turned back toward the town, but her eyes did not leave the girl in front of her.
Eya looked careworn and tired. Her welcoming face and friendly green eyes were framed by her characteristically bright red hair, but it had been chopped irregularly and jarringly shorter than Brigid recalled. On other occasions her smile would exude warmth and life; fond memories that Brigid kept close while she was gone. This morning though, the flames of her personality were subdued and even the pale blue, white, and lavender robes of their order didn't quite offset the gloom that clung to her. Brigid pointedly avoided looking at the subtle addition that peaked out from under Eya's robe: the fitted, high collar of her padded leather armor. Armor that marked her as a Shadow Singer but was patterned to blend into the robes worn over it.
Eya stood and waited for the dwarf to say something. The little slip of a girl had grown into a young woman and was taller than Brigid now, though not by very much. The Abbess walked forward and unfurled the blanket, holding it out for her.
"Here dear, let's get ye inside." She said. Eya crouched down and helped her guide the blanket over her shoulders. They walked hand in hand back to the abbey in silence.
The sight of the familiar trellises that lined the masonry walls of their hold welcomed Eya home. The tension in her posture gave way ever so slightly as they passed through the main gate and Brigid left the intricate ironwork doors open as they passed. Despite the early hour it would soon be time to open them anyway. It was too early in the year for the morning glories to be blooming, but parts of the garden were already coming to life and their scents mixed with the smells of the fertile soil and wet grass, further easing the tired young warrior back into the home of her childhood. Walking through the grounds, she saw the other clerics beginning to stir and start their day. A few noticed her, some had to double-take at her changed appearance, but all left her alone with the Abbess.
Brigid ushered her inside and directly to their communal dining room where a crackling fire was already waiting for her in the hearth. Eya chose a spot on a bench close to the warmth and set her pack down next to her. She pulled the light blanket tightly around her body again and stared into the slowly dancing flames. Leaning against the old wooden table, she continued to gaze into the hearth. Her thoughts were outside of time, numb from more than the cold and the long journey. Uncomfortable memories stirred just below her consciousness like sea monsters beneath the waves, but by focusing on the fire she found she could prevent them from breaching the surface.
Her concentration was broken when Brigid placed a cloth napkin, a spoon, and a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of her. Standing behind Eya, the dwarf watched her ponder the breakfast with a motherly concern.
"Et's spiced, just the way ye like et. I made sure to keep some cinnamon and clove around just in case."
Eya nodded absently. The smell wafting off the bowl made her stomach clench. She wanted the food and she knew she needed it. She remembered the warmth and comfort it had always given her, but her body was not cooperating. Eya reached for the spoon, but her stomach turned in anticipation, so she took hold of the blue and green tartan napkin and began fiddling with it instead.
"Are there any apples left? Maybe...the tart ones?" She looked pleadingly toward Brigid. The abbess sadly shook her head.
"I'm sorry sprite, they wont be ready for months." Eya's posture contracted further.
"Then, can I just have some bread, please?" She asked quietly. Brigid's shoulders slumped at the hollowness in the girl's voice.
"Of course dear, I'll be right back." Returning quickly, she set down a half-loaf on a cutting board and sat beside Eya. She moved to cut off a portion, but the girl reached out and simply tore off a chunk. "I'm sorry it's not fresh. We burned the last batch...I've been so distracted the last few days. We've all been eager to see ye." Eya looked around the empty room doubtfully. She picked a bite out of the soft, dry center of the bread in her hand and nibbled at it.
"Thank you." She acknowledged both the food and the supposed eagerness of the other clerics simply. Brigid watched her pick at the modest meal, allowing the oatmeal to cool and slowly solidify. Neither said anything as the room began to brighten with the morning sun streaming in through the windows high above them.
"I want tae take the very best care of ye while ye're home." Brigid tried to delicately broach the topic on her mind. "I was only told that ye needed tae recuperate, but no' what happened." Eya paused mid-bite, her eyes still focused on the waning fire. A slight tremor in her left hand began shaking the chunk of bread. Sensing her mistake, Brigid added "Ye don't need to tell me everything, jus'...please tell me what ye need?" She quickly reached out to Eya, taking hold of her right hand but the girl flinched and withdrew. The blanket fell away from her arm and the Abbess spied a nasty, mottled bruise on the girl's wrist peaking out of the cuff of her sleeve.
Eya swallowed the dry bread in her mouth and set down the chunk in her hand. She drew the blanket back up around her and shook her head.
"I'm fine. I'm one of the lucky ones. The others...the Sciatha and the other Shadow Singers...they...the Fiends h- hurt them worse..." Eya squeezed her eyes shut against the memories. Visions of her teammates, friends, and allies being torn apart, gruesomely wounded, and mangled by Infernal magic threatened to overwhelm her but she forced it all back down beneath the surface. Brigid could hear the girl's stomach gurgle and turn. "I'm fine." She repeated herself. "I'm lucky. I guess."
The Abbess reached out again, slowly this time, and laid her hand over the girl's wrist. When she tensed up, Brigid stopped her with a quiet "tut" and closed her eyes. Drawing the grace of the Everlight through herself and into the bruise, the dwarf concentrated on healing the only external wound she had been allowed to see. When she was done, she patted Eya's hand and put the bread back into her palm. Brigid's nurturing care opened a crack in the girl's dammed-up spirit. Her breathing caught and stuttered and she sniffled while trying to choke back what was coming. Finally, she collapsed against Brigid and buried her face in the older woman's shoulder.
"I was in the Caul for so long..." She sobbed into Brigid's robe, soaking the material. Heartbroken but glad of a breakthrough, the matronly dwarf just held her and stroked her hair until the worst of it passed. When her tears gave way to sniffling again, she sat back up and gently flexed her wrist.
"I've been practicing too, see?" Eya looked at her mentor eagerly and cleared the moisture from her eyes. Holding up her hands, the younger cleric motioned toward the hearth. As she worked, golden whorls of radiant energy danced around the fire, stoking it and shifting the colors back and forth through rainbow hues. "I haven't used the Shadow Caul in weeks," she explained, "it gets easier to call on the Everlight the longer I go without it." Brigid smiled proudly at her and nodded along, but inwardly felt her own stomach tighten. She knew where this conversation was headed.
"Oh et's wonderful! Ye've gotten better, sprite. I can see ye've been practicing." Eya smiled weakly at the praise, the first real sign of life in her since she arrived.
"I was even able to heal a few people af- after some of the battles." She said, becoming more animated. "It was only cuts and scrapes but if I can stay here and practice I know I can do better. Please?"
"We will practice together," Brigid tried to reassure her but faltered, "while ye're here." She sighed and clasped Eya's hands in hers. "But when they want ye back... We must answer when we are called, dear. Forgiveness and redemption will always require sacrifice; the Everlight shows us tha'." The younger cleric visibly shrank back and the darkness once again encroached on her bright eyes. She shook her head and looked back at Brigid with desperation.
"But we're told that her forgiveness is infinite; that she will redeem anyone!" The earnestness and distress in her voice told her Abbess that there was more bubbling beneath the surface. She could tell that the girl was dealing with more than simple guilt or trauma. She patted Eya's clasped hands again.
"Et is dear, et is. She offers redemption to all but accepting her forgiveness still requires sacrifice on our part. We must be able to put down our burdens if we are to hold divine grace within ourselves." Eya deflated further, and her eyes darted away from Brigid. The elder cleric knew that she was not ready to open up further but also not ready to drop the subject. She stood up and offered her hand to Eya, who stood up as well. "Come along, let's get you unpacked. Settling in will bring that appetite back." She reached down and took hold of the travel pack, but strained at the weight. "Oh, Light's grace! Did they send us the entire cavalry on yer back?"
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Later that evening, Brigid climbed the bell tower and stepped gingerly out onto the roof. The sun was low on the water of the distant sea and the winds now blew down from the cold mountains and out to chase it. She gingerly picked her way across the flat surface until she reached the edge.
Eya sat there, facing west to watch the oncoming sunset, just as she had since she first discovered this perch as a child. Abbess Ironbloom had always hated coming to this spot. She wasn't fond of heights but she never could seem to stop the girl. Speaking to the Everlight in her prayers one night when Eya was twelve, she did receive some unexpected guidance. She realized that, as much as she disliked the location, she would always know where she could find her fire sprite and so she came to accept it.
Brigid sat down next to her carrying two small bundles, a pair of warm spiced muffins. "I'd hoped ye might be feeling a bit better by now. I found some apple preserves and mixed them into the batter." She offered one of them and Eya nodded gratefully. The girl devoured her muffin greedily, bringing a little bit of comfort to her elder as well. Brigid could tell that the melancholy from earlier had not lifted so easily though, so they sat together in silence as the sun fell to the sea.
The feeling of finality at the close of day allowed Eya's temporarily suppressed dread to bubble up once more. She squeezed her eyes tightly and strained to stop herself from crying in front of Brigid again. The dwarf's matronly hand on her back, soothing and concerned, broke her resolve.
"I can't- I can't go back mama." She finally admitted, choking back tears and trying to swallow them down. "I can't use the Caul again, I can't bear it." The sound of Brigid's gentle hushing caused her tears to flow and weeks of pent-up anguish came pouring out.
The Abbess struggled to comfort her. Her role as a spiritual leader and surrogate mother to her orphans had prepared her for just such a crisis. But this crisis, this child... Seeing her little fire sprite's spirit so completely beaten down threatened to overwhelm her training and her faith.
"I know, little one." She finally said, her hand slowly circling Eya's back. "I know it feels tha' way, but yer so much stronger than ye know. The Everlight sees ye dear, she sees yer pain and how you carry it for others." Brigid sighed deeply; her own words weren't ringing true in her ears. She hoped they meant something to Eya though.
"You don't understand! They died because of me." She shut her eyes tightly again and squeezed one hand in the other. She grimaced as she tried to shove her memories into a deep, dark hole. The revelation broke Brigid's heart. Deep down she knew it couldn't be true, but without the shared experience she couldn't refute the girl's self-recrimination.
"Please," Eya said through her sniffling, "I can be a healer. I can be a better healer than a fighter, I promise! I- I- I can't go back to that!" Brigid's hand moved from her back to her leg and she squeezed the girl's knee.
"Oh ye would make a wonderful healer, sprite." Her voice caught and she wished she didn't have to say what she had to say next. "And if et were up tae me I would keep ye here and never let ye go...but et isn't up to me. The Everlight and the Shadows have chosen you for something grander, so et's no' my will tha' can guide yer path." She shook her head and sighed again. "No matter how much I wish otherwise."
Eya's sniffles slowed and her shoulders slumped, but Brigid knew her well enough to know that this was not a sign of acceptance. "Come get some rest, fire sprite. Ye've traveled so far and ye must be exhausted. Things will look different in the morning." Brigid stood up and placed a hand on Eya's shoulder, but she responded with a subtle shake of her head.
"I'll be down in a little while, Mother Brigid. I just...want to watch the stars come out tonight." Brigid's stomach tightened at her tone and the firmness in her shoulders. Eya had always been a troublemaker, even as a child; loving and affectionate but fiercely independent. As she had grown, she had developed all the subtlety of an iron truncheon wrapped in lamb's wool. The Abbess knew what she looked and sounded like when she had set her mind to something.
She looked down at the haphazardly cut red mop on Eya's head and felt an abiding sadness settle deep within her heart. Her little fire sprite was not so little anymore.
"Don't- don't stay out too late. Take care of yerself, okay? WeâI could use yer help gathering dandelions tomorrow. Those silly townsfolk have already run through what they bought last time. Must be a stomach bug going...around..." Her voice trailed off, seemingly lost in the deepening evening. Eya nodded solemnly and Brigid tenderly kissed the top of her head. The young woman was many things in the Abbess's eyes, but a skillful liar was not one of them. She placed the untouched second muffin down, still wrapped in a tea towel. "In case yeâ" her voice caught in her throat, "âye need et."
"Thank you." Then, as if she'd made a silent decision, the girl sat up a little straighter and turned to face the woman who had raised her. "I love you, mama."
Brigid felt her eyes sting and struggled mightily to hold back the pressure she felt welling behind them. She squeezed one hand in the other. Finally, she nodded and gave her daughter a watery smile. "Love ye too, sprite. Be safe."
Eya waited until she was sure she was alone before climbing down from the roof, passing swiftly through the back hallways of the temple to avoid anyone gathering for evening prayers. She made her way toward her dormitory, but stopped halfway and decided on a detour.
Entering one of the abbey's greenhouses, she searched around in the growing darkness. It was getting difficult to see, so she reached down to clutch her triple-blossom holy symbol and concentrated, hard. It was indeed getting easier...she was able to summon a simple light cantrip on her first try. As the tiny light bloomed from her fingertip she felt an inner warmth that steeled her nerves. She set her shoulders and began gathering from the flowers there.
The next six hours were stressful for Eya. In her small room, she worked swiftly to repack her meager belongings without attracting attention. The occasional well-wisher interrupted her preparations, but her obvious exhaustion allowed her to keep their conversations brief and their probing questions shallow. Once she was repacked, she still had to dodge anyone coming to check on her, so she squeezed under her bed and waited for everyone to finish their duties.
When the final bells of the day rang out across the abbey, she stiffly emerged once again. Stuffing her linens in front of the crack at the bottom of her door, she snuffed the candles in her room and finished her preparations by the faint light of another cantrip.
Eya then waited in the dark until she was sure it was past midnight. In the moonlight streaming through her lone window, she wrapped a long scarf around her neck. The soft, red wrap was a gift from Brigid on her sixteenth birthday and one of her few truly personal possessions. After her long hair had been cut short for her Craiceannú trial, the Abbess had given her the garment to keep her neck warm until it grew back. Now that it had been cut again, the garment felt even more important. Touching the soft fabric and running it between her fingers, she felt a pang of regret for what she was about to do. She knew what it would do to the only mother figure she'd ever known. Just as her resolve began to waver, a flutter deep within her bloomed into a painful clenching in her stomach. She shut her eyes and inhaled.
"Don't worry," she spoke into the dark, "Mama will be fine." She reopened them and nodded. "I'm going to do this." She steeled her nerves, having been reminded of what she was running from.
She placed a bouquet of flowers from the greenhouse on her bed. The bundle of forget-me-nots, lady's mantle, and gypsophila sat under a note that she had written by cantrip-light.
I'm sorry...we are more than weapons.
Shouldering her pack, she crept into the hallway and looked up and down through the darkness. Her ears pricked for the sound of any activity, she moved out of her room and slowly closed the door. She was careful to ensure that the latch closed without undue noise and padded out of the dormitory, into the moonlight.
Eya's mind raced as she prowled across the grounds. She made sure to keep to the shadows and moved obliquely toward the main gate before stopping short and cursing herself.
Money. She had no money. She'd never had a use for it before, her needs were met by the church (or occasionally her own deft hand). Could she go back and try to sneak some money from the tithing tray tomorrow? The very idea of waiting another day made her stomach clench again. She didn't want to risk losing her nerve. She looked back toward the temple and chewed on her lip. It was worth a try, and if it didn't work out...well, she'd figure it out on the road.
Sneaking back toward the heart of the abbey, Eya was surprised when she laid her hand on the door and pulled. It opened. Not one to look for fault in a lucky break, she dashed inside and shut the door behind her. She crouched low in the entrance and listened for any sound, even breathing. When the unnerving quiet of the room finally convinced her that she was safe, she made her way to an apse on the left side of the altar. Navigating by touch, she ran her hands over the old wooden box that contained donations from the lay folk who attended their services. As expected, the box was locked.
Eya's shoulders slumped in disappointment. This would definitely make things harder. When her hands slipped off the sides though, she was shocked when her right hand landed in a tray that clinked loudly in the quiet. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered louder in her chest at the disturbance. She grimaced and waited to hear if there was any reaction from inside the dark room.
When no response came, she relaxed and gingerly felt for the tray again. Sure enough, a pile of coins was just waiting there. Had nobody put the day's donations into the box? Come to think of it, why was the temple unlocked too? In all her life, Eya had never known Brigid to shirk the end-of-day duties.
She shook her head and admonished herself. Focus! She steeled her nerves with a deep breath and blindly grabbed a handful of coins. The noise was unavoidable so she stuffed the small treasure into a pouch at her hip and dashed out as quickly as she could. Feeling her way back the way she came, she slipped out into the night once more.
Extra careful to avoid open spaces now that someone might have heard her, she once again made her way toward the main gate and the outside world. Standing before the tall wrought-iron portal, she craned her neck up to assess it in the moonlight. It was imposing in the darkness, although its ornate metalwork morning glory vines would afford her plenty of handholds. Still, she dreaded the thought of trying to scale it with her pack while also trying to stay silent. She knew she could easily break the lock without making much noise but the thought of defiling her home, even as she ran from it, made the idea a non-starter. Maybe one of the walls was a better path, unless...
"Well," she mumbled to herself, "weirder things have happened tonight." She tentatively reached out to the gate and pulled.
It gave with a muffled creak.
Eya stood there in shock for a moment. "You really have been distracted, mama..." She whispered into the dark.
Not wanting to question it any further, she slipped out at once and gingerly shut the gate behind her. She oriented herself against the orchards and the huge mountain ahead of her to the north, turned right, and set out.
Avoiding the town of Northvale, she made for where she believed the mountain pass to the trade road would be. Eya moved with haste across the moonlit grassland; the cool night air quickly dried out her lungs and brought a burning sensation with each breath. She didn't dare stop though, there would be little cover between here and the mountain pass. She needed to put distance between her and the abbey before dawn arrived. At the back of her mind, she knew she would need to find nondescript places to hole up so she could confound scrying attempts. That was a problem for tomorrow though, tonight she needed speed.
Tonight, she needed to run.