Motes of faint starlight coalesce around you as a gentle, feminine voice whispers to you on a
soothing wind, "My Avaris."

Kneeling upon the ground in a posture of rigid meditation, hands folded upon his
knees, Avaris's antennae snap upwards at the soft voice, his chin lifting briefly before lowering
once more in a gesture of respect. "Lady Empyreal." His voice is even and calm, without heat.

Though the winds that suffuse you in this place are soft and gentle in their cool embrace, they are
devoid of the usual soothing influence that accompanies the presence of the Empyreal Goddess,
instead merely embodying the natural peace of any calming breeze. It is in this reticent, starry
mist that the voice echoes, "It is time. Come to Me before the mirror shattered by Doubt, and I
shall see your Wisdom." Then the words fade into a wash of starlight, and the presence is gone.

The kephera does not rise the instant the command is given, Avaris instead
remaining still, until a long, slow breath escapes him - The exhalation of a weary man drawing
himself up to stand before a trial he knows he is doomed to fail, but standing nonetheless.

A mirror shattered by Doubt.
Of a colossal height and magnitude, this cracked mirror reflects the murky surface of the sea in all
its bruised bluish-black shades from where it has sunk into the ocean floor. Within the slivers of
fractured glass, strange figures manifest as if conjured by smoke and fog, their after-images
haunting as they ghost through the distorted pane. Whispers resound about from all directions in a
chorus of murmurs and susurrations, seeming to grow in volume the closer one approaches the mirror
in all its dark, tempting beauty. The temperature plummets to chilling degrees this low undersea,
drawing the most unsettling of creatures to lurk in the nearby shadows. All ambient light is
swallowed in these abyssal depths.
You see a single exit leading east.

((Nocht purple.))
The shadows coiling inside the mirror's surface seem to come alive at your approach, writhing and
shifting into figures familiar and not. One, hauntingly familiar, whispers to you with black fingers
outstretched, "You seek Wisdom, little one?"

Drifting down through the unwelcoming murk of the chasm, Avaris's wings trail
behind him like six cloaks of shimmering, molten gold, his taloned feet pointed down as he descends.
Settling onto the ground weightlessly, he moves towards the mirror, hands at his side - And freezes
at that voice, his shock short-lived as it is burned away by a single, coursing rush of intense red
light that pulses through the markings upon his wings. Clawed fingers curling into fists, the
paladin makes no further move to approach the mirror. His voices, when they speak in unison, are low
and level, but simmering with a restrained ire. "I do. What is this? Illusion and trickery?"

You think to yourself: The hardened ember of anger that burns quietly within him flares to life at
the mere sound of the voice, spoken so casually in Her realm. He does not know whether this is the
true Lord of Shadow, or a facsimile formed by the mirror, but it warrants suspicion either way.

((Nocht purple.))
A thousand voices laugh in unison from beyond the mirror's gleaming surface, the faces within it all
shattered and distorted. Despite the strangeness of the artifact, the voice is familiar. Not your
Lady's. It is a voice that, oddly does not pulse within the mirror, but within your own mind: "Such
pointless cruelty. No purpose. No goal. Just suffering..."

The stark lines of cold white light that form the eyes of Avaris's wings shift as
the markings narrow in an expression of displeasure, suspicion and calculation as they study the
fragmented mirror. The legion of laughing voices wash over him with no apparent effect, the derision
flowing from him like seawater from a rock that has withstood countless storms. Though the voice
speaks within his mind, he responds aloud, his own chorus of voices hard and cold, as he says,
"Suffering is nothing in service to my Lady."

((Nocht purple.))
There is a fluttering beyond the mirror's surface, like that of a black veil catching the wind, as
the cackling dies down. "What a cruel way to teach you a lesson, child. Contemplate that when you
seek Her favor once more." It is an echo, this answer, like a refrain of a song you have long
forgotten.

There is a long moment of silence as the darkness of the depths presses in on
Avaris, but finds no purchase. The great wedge of his helm-like head shifts slowly as he shakes it,
studying the mirror less as he might an opponent, and more as he might a fortress that blocks his
way. He takes a step closer, the curling fingers loosening as he does so, stating, "Phantoms of that
which I endured long ago. They could not sway me from my Lady's service then, and their pale shadows
will not do so now."

((Terentia grey.))
At your firm answer, the shadow shifts and changes, this one with eyes hard as steel and a voice as
firm and unyielding, with the fury of blade clanging against steel: "Such confidence. And yet, the
past holds power in the present. Dare to forget this, Avaris, and you will not even be recognisable
to your Lady. Body and soul."

All four of Avaris's hand snap to the handles of his sheathed weapons in blurs of
sharply glinting gold, the reflexive grips upon the swords so tight that the leather-wrapped steel
creaks in protest. A whirling, eddying stream of light flickers through the kephera's markings, the
stylised eyes reacting in a thousand different ways to the sound of that furious voice - Thinning in
anger as they flare crimson, widening in fear as they pale to a wan white, and staring with a cold,
obdurate will. There is a lull before he responds, where he visibly masters himself, relaxing his
grip upon the scabbarded blades, and allowing his hands to rest loosely at his sides. In a steady,
cool manner, he responds, "My Lady would know me, even were I torn to warped fragments of what I am
now. My fear will not make me balk from facing You again, should She require it."

((Terentia grey.))
There is no laughter, merely the silence of a mountain witnessing the petulant cries of an ant. In
its judgment, you feel a familiar flash of anger burn across your hands, flaring with the red heat
of disapproval, before this shadow, too, vanishes into the glass.

((Li-v hued.))
A deep sense of uneasiness fills you as the cloying scent of bromeliad blossoms seems to permeate
your very being, intrusive and invasive as you inhale the sticky fragrance unbidden. As a new shadow
manifests, a vicious, mocking voice whispers into your ear with all the tenderness of a wave
crashing a rock against the shore: "Watch your tongue, little fool of the Empyreal, for you may not
like what I do with it."

Silence, in turn. There is no brash defiance, no blustering words, simply the grim,
unyielding determination of an insect prepared to stand before a storm, knowing full well that it
can turn it away no more than it can grasp the stars. Avaris's hands twitch as one, spasming in
pain, as if their nerves have been jerked, but then lie still once more. The reek of the floral
scent causes the four, broadly curving lines of his antennae to recoil as the stench reaches them,
his disgust apparent in that single motion, if not upon his immobile face. His layered words turn
flat, not an ounce of compassion or warmth contained within them. "Another Divine that believes
threats to be effective. You will see the reward for Your rampant selfishness soon enough, wretched
Goddess. You will be as You are here, and now - Just an unpleasant memory."

((Li-v hued.))
Vicious waves the glaucous hue of turbulent seas disturb the glass's murky surface as a mocking,
feminine voice sneers, "You may think you are the one who looks down upon Me, little mortal. But
rest assured. It is I who shall judge you." A vision of the Empyreal Goddess shackled in bromeliad
vines, dragged through the currents, briefly flashes through your mind as the sinister laugh reaches
a piercing decibel. "All your warnings for naught."

The golden form of the titanic paladin stands, unmoved by the vicious
words, though the currents tug and pull at his wings, sending the golden feathers this way and that.
Avaris stares at the mirror without truly seeing it, for all his eyes, as the vision of his Goddess
bound and imprisoned sears across his mind. The broad, armoured expanse of his shoulders slackens
slightly at this last, spitefully flung dart, his visored face lowering as he lifts his upper right
hand to press against it briefly, a weary exhalation preceding a tired, "No. It is the Elders who
judge You, now. I know better than to cry warnings to deaf ears, to closed minds that will not
listen to reason."

((Li-v hued.))
Once more the laughter ripples across the surface of the mirror, this time followed by the previous
voices and countless others, forming a dissident cacophony in answer. Your words cause the merest
hesitation in the mirror's inhabitants, though suddenly and without warning, they dart and swim away
into the shadows, banished by the presence of a slowly building white light.

"Avaris. I have kept you waiting." This time, the voice is not within your mind, nor within the
glass. It echoes around you with the familiar cadence of your patroness, Her words weighed and
measured with a stoic stillness.

Pinpricks of celestial light coalesce into the faint outline of a star lotus, which blossoms open to
reveal the regal figure of Lantra, the Empyreal.

Standing before the mirror, Lantra is the embodiment of restrained dignity, Her veiled visage
betraying nothing of Her thoughts as She inclines Her head to you coolly.

The laughter of the myriad voices has as little effect upon Avaris as the vicious
nipping of a school of tiny fish upon a scarred leviathan - Though his regard of the mirror lingers
for a time, even as the burgeoning radiance washes over the area. It is only when Lantra speaks
that he stirs from his dull-eyed reverie, lowering himself to his knee in a practiced motion, head
bowed. Once again, his tone is even and formal, a servant speaking to their superior. "Lady."

The bright star twinkling upon Her veil appears to cast a welcome luminescence upon the dark
environs as Lantra regards the mirror, its surface now empty of the mockery that once filled it
prior. "It is not Our first meeting in this place," the Goddess says evenly, turning once more to
view you. "We spoke of Doubt, then. Today I ask you to speak of Wisdom." She folds Her hands before
Herself. "Tell Me, for all view My tenets from different facets. What is Wisdom to you, My Avaris?
For only then may I ask you to embody it, knowing your answer."

The benign effulgence of the shining star is reflected upon Avaris's carapace, the
light distorted and dulled upon the curved plates and uncompromising brutality of his spikes
pauldrons. The kneeling paladin does not lift his gaze from the shattered fragments of mud-smeared
glass that are crushed beneath his armoured foot, nor does he respond to the mention of the first
meeting. "Acceptance of limitations. A person can want something with all of their being, but it
does not matter, if it is an impossible thing. It is foolish to pursue such." A pause in the
wearied, passionless response, and then he continues, "That is the foremost portion of what I
consider Wisdom, but I am aware of the other aspects - Tempering the hunger for knowledge, learning
from those Wiser than oneself, and so on."

The answer is received in silence as Lantra nods, Her starlit veil shimmering with the movement. "It
is so," She says simply. "Dynara created Us with limitations, as you say. That We must temper the
parts of Ourselves that desire beyond Our reach, as the Traitors did, to achieve that which must not
be. And yet learning such limitations comes from testing them, in part." She walks forward towards
the mirror, Her white vestments rippling with the movement, as She continues, "Come. For I would
speak of these words as more than abstraction."

The Goddess walks through the mirror's glass without so much as a hesitation, vanishing into the
shadows until She is mere nothingness. Only motes of starlight are left in Her wake, which coalesce
around you, beckoning you to the mirror with a gentle, irresistible pull.

Within a shattered mirror.
Littered with shards of reflective glass, this strange multifaceted room has no visible exits,
appearing almost as if to be the interior of a clouded jewel. Rather than gemstone, however, each
shimmering wall is that formed of exquisite stained-glass, its panes painting countless scenes as if
from memory. Some of these images are familiar, as if plucked from events both recent and distant,
while others possess the inherent discomfort of a thought that belongs to another; there is a sense
of transgression in glimpsing something so intimately private, even in passing. Soft voices whisper
from all directions, pulsing brightly from the stained-glass itself as they beckon for attention.
The translucent reflection of a beautiful woman stands here, seeming achingly familiar.
There are no obvious exits.
You are transported by the power of the Divine.

This dazzling reflection of a stained-glass Goddess is composed of countless shards of jewelled
glass, Her countenance otherworldly in its peculiar beauty. Adorned in immaculate pearlescent
shards, She is resplendent in Her white vestments that drape about Her to the floor. Her dusky face
is partially veiled in palest watery glass shards and framed on either side with the diamond
likeness of star lotuses, while Her lips are drawn of rubies and Her eyes of startling celadon jade.
She appears to distort in the mirror's cracked images, appearing at once tangible yet intangible,
close enough to touch and yet forever beyond the reach of the glass itself.
A feminine reflection in the mirror has an air of extreme strength.

Moving through the panes of glass that surround you, a feminine reflection in the mirror watches you
as Her voice oddly echoes around you, "Welcome, My Avaris."

Rising, equally without hesitation and urgency, Avaris follows at a steady pace,
his footfalls heavy - A man walking to the gallows, and long since resigned to hang. Once within the
mirror-realm, he pauses, instinctively taking stock of his surroundings via the countless eyes that
glow upon his wings. The panes of glass that form the walls draw his immediate attention, his gaze
passing over them with obvious wariness. When his regard touches upon the foreign images, it
flinches away in discomfort, slipping aside swiftly, before he turns his attention to a feminine
reflection in the mirror. He stares at the unusual, glasswork mockery of his Goddess, mute and
bemused as he studies the glinting shards that form a feminine reflection in the mirror's every line
and jagged curve. He does not kneel, instead lowering his head in a gesture of wary courtesy,
responding, "Thank You."

As if transporting from one memory to another with each footstep, a feminine reflection in the
mirror examines a single shard above you, Her glass-wrought hand touching it so that it shines
bright. "What do you think of this place, My Enduring?" She inquires, turning from this image to
another with a slow, languid study.

The lines and points of Avaris's lambent regard follows a feminine reflection in
the mirror's progress throughout the memories, his hands held at his side, ostensibly relaxed,
though this puts them within easy reach of his swords. The question draws out an uneasy silence as
the mortal assesses the area once more, clearly working through both his thoughts and what an
appropriate response might be. Eventually, with some reluctance, he answers, "It is unsettling. I
feel like I am an intruder, a voyeur."

"Would you prefer something more familiar?" a feminine reflection in the mirror asks, and Her
fingertips alight this time on another jewelled shard, its mirrored surface one that speaks to your mind
and memory as it softly glows within Her shimmering palm. Her celadon gaze is partially visible, Her
veil shifting as She passes through each splintered piece of glass, the motion peculiarly deliberate
and unhurried. "This mirror contains many doubts. It is a place where the memories of those who
witness it are reflected back upon them, in some fashion. Yours reside here as much as anyone
else's." Then the full scrutiny of Her gaze falls upon you. "You have sensed them yourself, have you
not?"

"No." The answer is emphatic, but not rushed - A measured certainty calmly
delivered, rather than a reflexive negation. At the explanation, Avaris emits a low, buzzing sound
of bemused comprehension, dipping his head down in acknowledgement. "The doubts of others are no
business of mine. As for my own, I do not think I need the mirror to see them." To the question,
another nod, short and sharp. "I have. I know their feel well enough."

The emphatic certainty is listened to by a feminine reflection in the mirror as it elicits a faint
spark of glittering curiosity in Her eyes. "Perhaps so," the Goddess concedes. "And yet I do not
know them, not as intimately as you seem to. Though I can hear the minds of mortals, I find their
thoughts are rarely My business, as you say." She exhales, the sound like tinkling chimes, before
She continues, "Wisdom, however, is born of experience. To assess yours, We must speak of what is
past." And with this, the burgeoning light at Her fingertips draws forth the single shard, causing
the room to fill with illumination.

The shattered mirror's shards rearrange around you once more, revealing an entirely different scene
drawn from the panels of coloured glass: a distant memory before a healing mound and an Elder
Goddess with blades laid bare, the image long burned in the recesses of your mind.

Within the shard of a glittering memory.
Rendered in stained-glass, this serene landscape appears more like a painting than reality, its
glass shards shimmering in gentle shades of blue and green as an altar of marbled white rises like a
pedestal encircled by sapphirine waterfalls. The cascading falls shimmer like a translucent curtain
of mist, the clouded glass bathing the surroundings in a sparkling mantle of white. Stoic as they
gracefully ascend from the waters, gem-wrought star lotus blossoms cradle the base of the pristine
altar, where a single kephera stands in distress: his hands protectively placed before the healing
mound as the awe-inspiring figure of Terentia, the Even Bladed is illuminated in dazzling colours.
Both of Her blades bear down upon the kephera's exposed hands, slashing them a ruby red that bleeds
onto the nearby panes. The translucent reflection of a beautiful woman stands here, seeming achingly
familiar.
There are no obvious exits.

The Goddess's words are listened to with a quiet stoicism, Avaris's immobile
features somehow even more reticent than is usual. He does not protest as the past is brought to the
fore, only slipping his hands beneath the heavy cloak of his aureate wings, bladed fingers clasping
together in a maul of gleaming chitin. He stands straight, though his shoulders are not as set as is
typical, weighed down by some phantom pressure as he surveys the glass-formed memory with a
dispassionate air. The figure of the kephera is ignored entirely, dismissed as unworthy of even the
slightest moment of his attention, the paladin instead regarding the shard-wrought figure of the
Even Bladed. He says nothing, and moves not at all, waiting with a peculiarly stubborn air.

"Tell Me of this scene," a feminine reflection in the mirror says softly. It is a command, no matter
how gently spoken, devoid of any expectation save for a true answer. Her patience appears limitless
and timeless, like that of a portrait watches the years pass from Her place of fixture. She will
wait for whatever reply you wish to give Her.

The seven, solid spheres of blue that form Avaris's natural eyes are dull and
without their inherent luster as he stares at the wrathful replica, as motionless as his glass
counterpart. When he speaks, it is in a flat, inflectionless manner, his cadence the relentless
march of a soldier's feet, set upon a long and dismal campaign. "A learning experience. A severing
of a potential professional relationship. The first time I felt a Divine's wrath in truth. I learned
that an ally is not a friend, nor inherently safe." His voice turns somehow flatter, colder, a blade
hammered relentlessly with repeated blows of painful memory. "I learned that She is not the logical
Divine that I thought She was. She allows emotion to cloud Her judgement. I do not regret my
question, for it gave me an answer - If not the one I sought."

"I did not ask what you thought of the Lady Even Bladed," a feminine reflection in the mirror
rebukes softly, "I asked what We witness. Know that She is My ally in New Celest, and I will not
tolerate sullying Her name in My presence. She has faced horrors few even among the Star Gods could
ever hope to survive." A brief tension suffocates the clouded jewel of memory before it abates, the
warning given suitable time to linger before the Elder Goddess continues. "What did you learn from
Her answer, My Avaris?"

The chastisement is accepted without a word, Avaris simply dipping his head in a
brusque, downward jerk - Though he offers no apology, or amendment to his words. He endures the
tension without drama, antennae twitching inward briefly, but gives little other reaction than this.
"I learned that evil will be allowed to persist, so long as it is Divine. That what we observe of
Elders, and their interactions, is but a minute fraction of what occurs beyond the scope of mortal
perception, the barest glimpses of a cold war, of incomprehensible politics and power dynamics. We
cannot hope to understand Them, predict Them, and should not seek to interfere. It is pointless." A
pause in the emotionless, relentless statement, delivered with as much feeling as a recounting of a
list of the unknown dead. "Divine relationships are complex, as are the Elders Themselves. Best
avoided."

The aether shimmers as a gentle light touches upon the defined, glass-wrought imagery, causing it to
twinkle with a renewed brilliance. "This is so," a feminine reflection in the mirror states. "What
binds Us Elders is complex, and the violence We incur upon one another different than that of
mortals upon one another, or even of the Soulless against all of Creation. What divides Us differs
from Star God to Star God. I possess more enemies than allies, Myself, certainly." To the latter
statement, the panes that form the feminine figure rearrange, reflecting Her standing pensively
before the healing mound. "If such is pointless, and best avoided, then I wonder at your desire to
serve Me. For am I not like My cousins in this manner?"

The question is left to hang, suspended in silence, for the span of many of
Avaris's measured breaths, his vast chest rising and falling as he considers how best to answer.
Eventually, in a carefully composed manner, each word deliberate both in its selection and
placement, he says, "You are like and unlike them. You are, to me, greater than They in many ways,
and more deserving of loyalty." A short-lived rustling of his heavy feathers accompanies a brief
shrug. "I do not need to interact with You, or otherwise involve myself with You or Your
relationships, in order to serve You, Lady. I can do so quietly, and under the direction of my
superiors in the Order."

Accustomed to waiting as She is, a feminine reflection in the mirror betrays no impatience nor
concern at the duration it takes to receive Her answer. She rests a hand upon the healing mound,
watching for a moment the gem-wrought images of the kephera and Goddess, before She glides forward
to rest Her hand upon the open wound reflected in ruby on the frozen paladin's hands. As She does
so, the room shifts as an immaculate white light floods the chamber.

The shattered mirror's shards rearrange around you once more, revealing an entirely different scene
drawn from the panels of coloured glass: the cold stillness of the Wyrden forest alongside a faeling
veiled in bewitching shadows, the distant voice of the Empyreal rippling through the aether.

Within the shard of a glittering memory.
The haunting solitude of this glass-wrought imagery is fully evoked in its shadowy panes; penumbral
blacks, blues, greys and purples have all been chosen to reflect the forest of the Glomdoring in all
its dark beauty. At its centre, however, a sickly light emanates from the immense kephera paladin
that sits before one looming tree, casting a stark white pallor on the otherwise soothing gloom of
his environs. A beautiful veiled faeling tends to his side, her diminutive tan figure rendered in
alluring shades of night-cast starlight. Though the kephera's expression is difficult to read at
all, so impassive is its nature, there is a sense of utter despondency and desperation that thrums
from him like an ache as he leans towards the faeling with something akin to resignation. Overhead,
so thin a sliver of glass it is barely visible, a light as distant as the furthest star offers a
single flickering gleam in response. The translucent reflection of a beautiful woman stands here,
seeming achingly familiar.
There are no obvious exits.

This scene, in contrast to the previous fraught rendition, evokes an obvious
reaction from the paladin, as Avaris's wings shift forward, cloaking much of his form in layers of
massive, faintly luminescent feathers that press close to him, as if comforting, or warding off a
chill. The huge, arcing talons of his feet scrape against the glass floor as he shifts back
uncomfortably, the rasp of his clawed fingers rubbing against the inside of his plated palms
emanating from beneath his aureate mantle.

Dispassionately, perceiving your reaction without a flicker of Her own, a feminine reflection in the
mirror says, "The mirror resonates with your own mind, Avaris. Tell Me. What do We witness?"

The unmoving plates that form Avaris's inhuman visage seem to shift in the melding
of sickly light and soothing shadow, as he looks upon the veiled faeling - But only for the span of
a long breath, before he turns away from her. Instead, in response to a feminine reflection in the
mirror's question, he turns the weight of his focus upon the wan, pallid rendition of himself.
Slowly, so gradually that it is difficult at first to discern, the markings that sit upon his wings
begin to shade to red, like dying embers in reverse. His voices are pitched low and threatening, a
chorus of disgust, almost outright hatred, that burns with a quiet anger. "Weakness. A fool grasping
at what he knows is poison, when he is dying of thirst, solely because it is a dim, twisted
reflection of water, and thinks it might soothe his burning throat."

The colours that comprise a feminine reflection in the mirror seem all the brighter for the darkness
of the memory She inhibits as a voyeur, vanishing in and out of each shard to stand beneath the
faint sliver of light providing its only illumination. So poised, She appears to be present but
unseen by the wan kephera before Her. The Goddess looks upon this facsimile of you for several long,
lingering moments, Her veiled countenance inscrutable. "What would you do differently, if anything?"
She asks.

Not a single one of Avaris's eyes, light-forged or natural, allow themselves to
turn away from the depiction of his moment of weakness, to seek the comforting succour of a feminine
reflection in the mirror's light. The intensity of his stare is such that it seems he seeks to burn
away his pathetic mirror self's doubt with the sheer heat of his resentment, and his voice comes
harsh and clipped, each word cut mercilessly short. "I would have delivered the item and departed
immediately. I wasted my time in trying to prove my Fortitude to You. More futility."

At this, a feminine reflection in the mirror turns Her attention to the veiled faeling beside a wan
companion, and a contemplative silence falls. "Did this one offer you any lesson?" She asked. "For
this memory would not linger so if it did not affect you in some manner. What knowledge did meeting
this child of shadows impart upon you so, to recall it so vividly even now?" More stars begin to
glitter in the shards above you, the host of constellations gathered about the Goddess like a
protective cloak that sheds light on the pair of immobile figures.

It is only with clear reluctance that Avaris tears his gaze from his sickly
reflection, allowing the small faeling woman to take up the weight of his attention as he studies
her in silence. "That there is Devotion even in the shadows, misguided and warped as it is. That not
all who dwell willingly within the embrace of the corruption are truly evil. That mortals ever seek
the love and affection of the Divine, and so rarely receive it." A motion from within the mantle of
feathers that drape about him, and he draws them back to their typical resting place upon his back,
baring a hand that rests now upon the hilt of a black sword. "That the corrupted should be purged if
they will not embrace the Light, no matter how kind they may seem." A pause, in which he hesitates,
and then more quietly, "That though a shadow may resemble that which is in the Light, it is not the
same. Not at all."

The nod that a feminine reflection in the mirror offers is one of acceptance, Her veil swirling in a
sudden wind that sweeps through the memory, casting all the lights that She has brought into this
dim scene into darkness. Thus plunged into an abyss of black, only the pinprick of the furthest star
remains visible, its beauty radiating as the shadows are banished with a burst of light.

The shattered mirror's shards rearrange around you once more, revealing an entirely different scene
drawn from the panels of coloured glass: the luminous cocoon bearing the turquoise-skinned Lady of
the Lagoons, where a lone pilgrim approaches Her repose with a magnolia in hand.

Within the shard of a glittering memory.
Far more vivid than the other visions, so recent is its recollection, this stained-glass memory is a
familiar one. Cocooned in an immaculate light, the form of the Goddess Li-varili peacefully rests
upon the healing mound of Lantra, the White, drawn in fine-cut jewels to show the slumbering Elder
in repose. Her wild hair tangles about Herself in a blood-red halo, spilling behind Her in a dark
curtain snared with kelp and cattail reeds. There is a strange innocence to the normally imposing
Divine in Her glittering repose, as if thousands of years of tension have at last relinquished their
hold on Her weary, exhausted body. Vines of white magnolia flowers blossom atop the healing mound,
tenderly entwining about the Goddess's limbs to keep Her in place, though theirs is a firm, yet
gentle grasp. Keeping vigil before Her in stony silence is a single kephera paladin illustrated in
golden panes, his sanguine antennae dipped low as he regards the Elder before him in silent
contempt. In his hands, a single white magnolia shimmers over with dewy beauty. The translucent
reflection of a beautiful woman stands here, seeming achingly familiar.
There are no obvious exits.

Again, as the scene changes, the panes reforming about him, Avaris pays no
attention whatsoever to the stained glass form of his memory-self, his focus instead upon the
somnolent Goddess. He studies it with much the same contempt as his copy, the vivid crimson of his
antennae curving down - If not quite so steeply.

"This memory I know well," a feminine reflection in the mirror comments softly, "and yet I would
hear you tell it to Me."

Taking a slow, resigned breath, Avaris dips his pointed chin down in a slight nod
of acquiescence. "Duty before the self. The mad Goddess was allowed to proceed with Her insane
ambitions, and all the world suffered for it." With an unhurried unfurling of his clawed fingers,
the kephera gestures to the bound Divine, continuing in his passionless recounting, his tone the
heavy, numb one of exhaustion. "Despite this, She was granted healing, and safety. You knew that She
was likely to return to Her prior ways, and cause more pain, more suffering. I knew this. You healed
Her anyway, because it is who You are, and it is what You do. Because it was right, to You. No
ulterior motives, no ploys, no schemes, no misguided affection for Her - Just Your duty, clear and
Pure." Jerking his head back, as if to indicate unseen presences behind him, he continues, a note of
hostility creeping into his resonant voice, "They doubted You. They ~all~ doubted You. Yet You
persevered, and continued to do what was right. You worked Yourself beyond the point of exhaustion,
for Someone that hated You for it, and You would do it again without hesitation."

Unlike the previous visions, here a feminine reflection in the mirror appears to belong, blending
seamlessly into the scenery as She stands behind the figure of the Goddess Li-varili in repose. She
lifts Her veil to offer Her full, unguarded expression as She stares at the slumbering Awakener
rendered in perfect shards of glass, and a strange sort of wistfulness mists Her celadon eyes. "I
would," She affirms without neither hesitation nor emotion. "For that is My path as Hamadhi, to undo
the damage caused by the Soulless... and the Traitors that would wield such power against Their own
cousins." She does not lift Her gaze. "Yours is the path of the warrior, however. To heal Li-varili
was not your duty, and yet you offered a magnolia unto Her many times, for My sake. Why?"

Avaris does not allow himself to so much as glance at a feminine reflection in the
mirror, not even when the temptation of a feminine reflection in the mirror's unveiled countenance
presents itself. Instead, he stares fixedly at the convalescing Goddess, the solid spheres of blue
as cold and merciless as polished sapphire. He does not appear, at first, to have heard the
question, so distant is his unseeing regard - Lost within the panes of his own memories, sorting
through sentiment and reason without urgency. He weighs many responses, formulates dozens of
carefully constructed answers, of painstakingly articulated, safe words. In the end, however, he
chooses the only answer that really matters. "Because I love You, Lady." With a barely perceptible
motion of his shoulders, he shrugs, toneless and clinical in his explanation. "You say that my path
is that of the warrior. I believe that my path is serving You, whatever form that takes. How I feel,
and what I agree or disagree with, does not matter."

"It is to be a blind Devotion, then?" a feminine reflection in the mirror comments idly, though She
takes the statement in with the solemnity it is due. If the averting of your gaze is noticed, it is
not heeded in the slightest as the Goddess strays from the painted cocoon of light, taking a single
white magnolia from it in silent thought. "Service unto Me shall require much of Devotion, yes. A
Purity of your convictions. The Fortitude to endeavor in them, even as the world throws strife your
way. You have promised fulfillment of those vows I ask of you, and more of your own promising, binding
yourself unto Me for eternity." She pauses, the flower in Her hand blooming with new radiance, as
She asks, "Those who served the Lady Li-varili did so blindly. Will you serve Me as they served
Her?"

As unmoving as stone, and every bit as expressionless, Avaris does not track a
feminine reflection in the mirror's movement throughout the mirror world, not so much as glancing up
when the magnolia within her hand burgeons with fresh light. "No. They were fools who did not see
Her for what She was, or what they were to Her." With a half-hearted, disinterested motion of his
wrist, the kephera gestures to the wings that enshroud his back, and the constellation of eyes that
dwell upon them. "I am not so blind as I once was. I see more clearly every year I serve You."

For a long while, a feminine reflection in the mirror turns Her unveiled countenance upon you, Her
expression that of one who is measuring something in silence. Hers is a piercing stare, one that
looks through the very soul with its open frankness. "And what you see compels you to remain in My
service, even when My stance is not what you wish," She states -- it is not a question, but a fact.
"Then yours is a chosen obedience. That is well, for I seek Wisdom that tempers Devotion in you, My
Avaris." The shard of memory glitters once more as the reflection veils Herself anew. "I am
satisfied."

At last the images of the mirror collapse upon themselves, rearranging into the jewelled interior of
the mirror once more as the last of the memories fades away.

Within a shattered mirror.
Littered with shards of reflective glass, this strange multifaceted room has no visible exits,
appearing almost as if to be the interior of a clouded jewel. Rather than gemstone, however, each
shimmering wall is that formed of exquisite stained-glass, its panes painting countless scenes as if
from memory. Some of these images are familiar, as if plucked from events both recent and distant,
while others possess the inherent discomfort of a thought that belongs to another; there is a sense
of transgression in glimpsing something so intimately private, even in passing. Soft voices whisper
from all directions, pulsing brightly from the stained-glass itself as they beckon for attention.
The translucent reflection of a beautiful woman stands here, seeming achingly familiar.
There are no obvious exits.

Her voice echoing oddly through the multi-faceted jewel of the mirror, a feminine reflection in the
mirror asks, "And yet, I sense you are not. Why is that so?"

The paladin endures the unforgiving study of his soul much as he has withstood his
previous trials - With the quiet, grim resignation of one who knows there is nothing that he can do
other than be what he is, and await judgement. At the pronouncement of a feminine reflection in the
mirror's satisfaction, there is a marked lack of relief, and not even the barest glimmer of
jubilation in Avaris's eyes - He simply nods, once, expression betraying nothing. To the question,
he offers an indifferent shrug, the spikes that thrust up from his shoulder glinting in the dull
light. "Such is the way of mortals, Lady. It is of little consequence."

"I sense an unforgiving nature to how you look upon your past self," a feminine reflection in the
mirror says, Her voice thoughtful, rather than chiding. "You have learned from the moments viewed,
for that is how Wisdom is gained -- through moments of Fortitude, endured for Devotion, held to
clarity by Purity of intent and purpose." Then the colours that form Her swirl, as if indecisive in
their hue, before She asks, "Is it that you wish to purge that sense of weakness, not merely speak
it aloud?"

"I do not coddle others when they are weak, or make mistakes, and I am less
deserving of such. Forgiveness has no place here." The statement is spoken without heat or
rancour, as even and unfeeling as the flat of a blade. The question causes Avaris to lapse into
silence, as he considers in what fashion he should respond. The myriad voices that form the
thrumming, resonating chorus of his words is carefully level as he says, "I do not enjoy weakness,
as I imagine most do not. If I might be rid of it, and thus serve You better, then I wish for such,
of course."

"Very well," a feminine reflection in the mirror says, receding into the background of the
glittering mirror encasing Her form. "If you wish to face that weakness headfirst, then do so. I
shall wait for you when you have banished the shadow of doubt to your liking."

In the Goddess's absence, a shadow manifests in Her stead, its appearance utterly indifferent and
eerily familiar in every way.

Stepping out from the glass, a reflection of yourself looks at you with empty eyes.

This glass-wrought reflection of you is an imposing kephera of titanic proportions: easily twice the
height of a tall man, possessed of a dignified and noble bearing. Six vast wings of gently
effulgent, aureate feathers spread out from his back, each bearing a multitude of lucent, stylised
eyes formed of two curving lines and a circle betwixt them - which move and gaze about with eerie
awareness. The shape of his domed head is reminiscent of a knightly helm, the alabaster of his
pointed chin and the wide flares of chitin that form his jaw contrasting with the layered crest of
shining gold that sweeps up and out from his severe brow in broad, curving blades. Seven eyes of
brilliant azure are set into the burnished, aureate visor of his immobile face, three beneath each
side of his brow, with a single, larger one set at the center of his forehead. His is an expression
of utter self-loathing.
A reflection of yourself has an air of extreme strength.

"Arm yourself," a reflection of yourself says in a cold, unfeeling chorus of voices.

Avaris's antennae twitch uncertainly at the Goddess's words, his head turning as if
to search for an exit - Clearly having interpreted this as a dismissal. He pauses, slowly turning
back to face his reflection, staring at him with mute incredulity for a moment, before a sound
gradually pours forth from him. Quietly at first, the harsh, buzzing vibration of his immense chest
gains volume and force, resolving into bleak, black laughter that shakes the panes of stained glass
about them, before it cuts off with an abrupt sigh. With the unhurried motion of a man relishing
what is to come, the paladin draws all four of his curved blades, a dark, bitter sort of amusement
limning his response. "Oh, you poor bastard. I am going to enjoy this."

Making no sound whatsoever, a reflection of yourself prepares to duel you in silence.

((Mechanical fight ensues!))

Eyes fixating on you, a reflection of yourself takes one step back, and suddenly you feel hollow,
empty of all but the guilt that wracks your soul.

Turning away as though not seeing you at all, a reflection of yourself passes by. You are overcome
by denial, raising your hands to fend off the unspoken accusations, desperate.

Letting out a frightened moan, a reflection of yourself grabs you with trembling hands. Terror fills
you as though you are an empty vessel, leaving no room for any other emotion or thought.

Listlessly, a reflection of yourself drifts towards you, touching you with cold fingers. A profound
sense of doubt passes through you, and you begin to question your name, your hopes, the worthiness
of your very dreams.

Lifting tightened fists, a reflection of yourself approaches you, bringing with him a hatred so vile
and thick that you feel it in your very bones. You cannot move, can barely breathe for the anger
that fills you and leaves naught else behind.

The blade shears through a reflection of yourself's body, coming clean through the other side with a
strangely quiet swish. He appears momentarily surprised, before his eyes glaze over in death and he
collapses to the ground.
You have slain a reflection of yourself.

Eight blades meet in a flurry of shimmering steel, the metallic crash of their
impact setting the mirror world about them shuddering, such is the force of the blows. Again and
again they clash in a dizzying blur of whirling swords and gleaming chitin, the titanic kepheras'
weapons flickering in a graceful dance of violence. At first evenly matched, Avaris's fury and
sheer, overwhelming hatred begin to turn the tide, the raw brutality of his blows cracking his
reflection's weapons, riving them with fracture lines in a relentless onslaught. With one last,
massive clash of crossed scimitars, the mirror-Avaris's blades shatter - And the paladin drops his
own, lunging for his dead-eyed self and hammering a massive, maul-like fist into the visor of his
face, cracking it. In a steady series of vicious concussions, he proceeds to beat his mirror-self
with an appalling degree of monstrous, hateful violence, until the reflected form grows limp. He
seizes it and lifts it overhead, the azure of his eyes dyed a sanguine, vivid red, such is his
anger, and brings his reflection down across his knees, snapping it clean in half.

It is once the reflection is snapped in twain that the mirror shudders as if the glass has shattered
anew, shaking and tremble until your surroundings fall away into nothingness.

You pick up the corpse of a reflection of yourself.

The Font of Wisdom.
This shadowy, water-filled alcove is filled with the gentle susurrus of running water, for cascading
waterfalls rain over its smooth stone walls in a symphony of aquatic sound. A procession of water
lotuses, each lit by a single, luminous star, raise their stems high above the surface of sparkling
water as they surround a statue of Lantra, the Empyreal, Her inscrutable expression veiled from view
as She folds Her hands in quiet contemplation. Seven starry jewels crown the Goddess's brow,
mimicking domothean crystal as they emit an eerie light that dapples the shimmering walls. From
where the light touches stone, faint constellations twinkle into view, drawing a sidereal path
across the walls that leads through the Void-black stone to the west, as if charting a way back to
the Basin of Life.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and west.

You are transported by the power of the Divine.
Pinpricks of celestial light coalesce into the faint outline of a star lotus, which blossoms open to
reveal the regal figure of Lantra, the Empyreal.

Her expression calm, though Her voice belies a soft fondness, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "Did you
find what you sought, My Avaris?"

The great span of Avaris's chest rises and falls with deep, heavy breaths for a
time, his gaze unfocused as he savours the moment, the shards of glass embedded in his knuckles
dwindling away into motes of nothingness. With a slow, heartfelt exhalation, that of a man satisfied
at a hard day's work, he nods, flexing his fingers absently as he bows to Lantra, his tone calm and
even as he replies, "That was...Most cathartic, Lady. Thank You."

There is a gentle sound akin to quiet laughter as Lantra nods in reply, saying merely, "Then We are
both satisfied. Your vow of Wisdom has been fulfilled, My Avaris."

Lantra, the Empyreal has appointed you to seeker of Wisdom in the Divine Order of Lantra, the
Empyreal.

Lowering his head in gratitude, Avaris sinks gracefully to one knee, slipping once
more into his customary posture of reverence. "Thank You, Lady. I will disturb You no more with
asking for direction in how to serve You. If You wish something of me, merely inform one of the
Anointed, and I shall see it done."

As the Font continues in a musical cascade of water around Her, Lantra says, "Purity. Devotion.
Fortitude. Wisdom. All four have been met, as you promised Me in My Fulcrux so long ago." At each
word, a star lotus blooming at Her feet unfurls with new light, four circling Her now in colours of
white, gold, crimson and misty blue. "Have you given thought to where your next vow to Me may lead
you? The path of the Mystic Waters, or the path of Argent Light." If She holds expectation for
either, She does not voice it.

There is the faintest touch of dry amusement in Avaris's harmonious voices as he
replies, "I do not think I would be a good fit for the Mystic Waters, Lady, but I defer to Your
judgement in this. It is Your Order, and I am Your servant. I will acquiesce to Your preference."

Making no attempt to argue, Lantra pools Her hands together beneath the Font's rushing waters,
watching as the water in Her palm shimmers and turns white with liquid light. "I have no desire to
wield an instrument in a place it is doomed to fail," the Goddess says patiently. "The Argent Light
it shall be, then. May your light banish all shadows that would seek to encroach upon Me and Mine,
and serve as a beacon to kindle faith in others." So saying, She dips a finger into the liquid
light, then anoints your brow with its luminosity from where you kneel upon the ground.

Lantra, the Empyreal has appointed you to anointed by Argent Light in the Divine Order of Lantra,
the Empyreal.

As the light touches your brow, you sense your bond to the Empyreal Goddess deepening as Her will
infuses your own with the weighty purpose of overseeing Her Order as one of Her Anointed. You sense
you must not take this duty lightly.

The curving, layered blades of Avaris's golden crest glint as they reflect the
white light from Lantra's hand. Seeming about to respond, he still as his Goddess approaches, a
single, effulgent eye flicking up to regard Her uncertainly. Once the luminescent liquid has been
anointed upon his brow, his antennae curl and twist as if wrestling with the very idea of what has
has occurred. Raising his upper right hand, he presses it to one side of the crimson star lotus that
weighs upon his chest, his tone solemn, as befitting the gravity of the situation. "I shall serve as
best I am able, Lady." He hesitates, and then, as if unable to help himself, asks, "Are You sure,
Lady? I would be content to remain below Anointed."

"You said I am to determine how you serve," Lantra replies with a certainty that is born of
thousands of years of knowledge and existence. "This is what I have resolved upon. If you do not
believe you are deserving, then seek to rise to the challenge I place before you. Regardless, you
have done enough to be deemed worthy by Me to lead Mine." There is an almost defiant hint to Her
soft words, despite how even they are in their intonation.

There is the faintest phantom of a stubborn tilt to Avaris's jaw, almost in
reflexive response to the subtly defiance in Lantra's voice, but his own is as respectful and calm
as ever. "They will not like it, Lady. I have made most of them cry as it is, and I will not be the
coddling, gentle hand they so crave."

Lantra raises a single brow, Her puzzlement barely visible behind the translucent curtain of Her
misty veil. "It is My Order, is it not?" the Elder Goddess says. "Is it not for Me to determine who
is Anointed, and whose voices speak for Me? Should any doubt My judgment, they may voice it in My
presence if they desire. Let their own will determine the Wisdom of such an action for themselves."
She shrugs, Her splendid golden cope rippling with the movement to brush against the still waters.
"I am a Hamadhi, Avaris, but I am no pacifist, nor am I a forgiving Goddess. There are wounds that
require tenderness in their healing, and other rots that must be excised, while some matters are
beyond salvaging." She curls a palm closed and opens it, revealing a flickering mote of stark white
light as She says coolly, "You yourself have witnessed My wrath. I may control it, Avaris, but the
light of My fury burns as bright as any other Elder God. If some wish to imagine Me as merciful when
I am not, that is their mistake to make."

Inclining his head in acknowledgement of Lantra's words, the stark light held in
Her palm is reflected within the burnished plates of Avaris's carapace, the glinting luminosity cold
and sharp. "Yes, my Lady, I know this well - But they, I feel, shy away from the brilliance of Your
anger, rather than revel in it, as is right and proper." Though he protests, after a fashion, the
newly-Anointed paladin does not seem particularly troubled by the thought of causing upset within
the Order, instead growing pensive. "Lady, what are an Anointed's duties? I would not misstep in
serving You in this capacity."

A gentle laugh suffusing Her words, Lantra says, "You are to oversee the guidance of those that have
yet to fulfill their vows unto Me, and to speak of Me with authority unto others. They are teachers,
through practice and example alike. I trust them to oversee the Order affairs when I am not able to,
and to oversee and inspire progression within the Order." There is a pause as She looks at the
constellations that adorn the Font of Wisdom, following them with Her eyes as She considers Her next
words. "I hold no Immaculate at this time, but those who would wield such a mantle would serve as My
Voice when I am not present. They would hold My closest confidence."

Turning to you, Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "You may also baptise citizens of New Celest into
My service, marry those who wish to establish marital vows of Devotion in My name, and other duties
as it pleases you."

Considering it as an afterthought, Lantra says, "Ah. You may also enemy those who have acted against
Me, write logs unto the Order, and write works on behalf of the Order. As well as establish
shrines."

The quartet of Avaris's broad, curving antennae are held sharp and upright as he
listens intently to Lantra's every word, the full focus of his attention upon Lantra as he watches
Her with earnest concentration. He follows along without fuss until the mention of the Immaculate, which
causes him to tilt his head in a quizzical manner, as if uncertain as to why the matter was brought
up at all, but he makes no comment upon it. Instead, he nods once, the tip of his pointed chin
stabbing down into the drifting, pristine white fluff of his mane emphatically. "Yes, my Lady. I
will strive to conduct myself in a manner befitting of the station at all times." His antennae bend
forward and down slightly, a small frown forming in thought, before he asks, "Regarding the other
Anointed - Am I to be on equal footing with them in terms of authority and weight of opinion, or
does their seniority, and status as Avatar, place theirs above mine?"

The chanting of feminine voices echoes throughout the Temple of Lantra, distant and beautiful.
"You are on different paths," Lantra says simply. "Aeldra's word in Mystic Waters precedes that of
Faragan at present, due to her position. You have full authority over the Argent Light, however, as
its sole member. You may consult with them on matters of Order progression and whether or not
changes should be proposed to the Order, but all are up to My scrutiny." At the mention of Avatars,
a perplexed expression mirroring the one you had prior appears on the Goddess's face as She says,
"Those who are My Avatar hold a unique bond to Me. That bond should not affect your ability to work
alongside them. Should you have a disagreement among the Anointed, bring it to My attention, and I
shall mediate."

Avaris mulls over this response for a time, taking his time to process it, knowing
that the scant few moments he takes to do so will be as nothing to the patience of the Divine before
him. Eventually, having fully chewed upon the information, he nods. "As You say, Lady. Is there
anything You would have me do, other than what You have outlined as general duties?"

"Yes." Lantra moves to depart the Font of Wisdom, Her misty veil trailing behind Her as She intones,
"Come. Meet Me at the baptismal font at the entrance of the Temple." And then in mere moments, She
is naught but motes of starlight on the wind.

Apparently taken aback by both the affirmative, and the suddenness of Lantra's
departure, Avaris remains as he is for a stunned second, before he rises, turning on his heel, and
strides off.

Before the veil of mist.
Sidereal waterfalls spill into the luminous pool of this baptismal font, forming a sparkling veil of
mist. The banks of fog at the base of the cascading water swirl across the marble floors with an
enchanting, mysterious haze, whispering across the mosaic lotus tiles. Pillars of white marble
encircle the fountain, while celadon blue statuettes of veiled priestesses hold urns of overflowing
light before the waters. The starry light that pours forth collects and pools at the centre of the
chamber, where a single star lotus unfurls in eternal bloom. Luminous streams overflow from a
baptismal fountain of water and light here. Lantra, the Empyreal stands here with a restrained
dignity, radiating a celestial glow.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest, up, and down.

Gesturing to the fountain, Lantra says merely, "Look upon the baptismal fountain, for it shall
reveal more of itself to you than in your time before."

Stepping purposefully within, antennae upright and alert with obvious curiosity,
Avaris looks first to Lantra, nodding, then to the fountain, moving to stand before it.
Fashioned from immaculate white marble, this baptismal fountain overflows with a cascade of water
and light from surrounding waterfalls. Adding to their bounty, four statuettes wrought from celadon
blue jade bear urns that pour forth streams of sparkling water into the basin, frothy with starlight
mist. Mosaic lotus tiles gleam beneath the shallow waters, while a single star lotus blossoms in
eternal bloom at the fountain's centre. Radiant and beautiful, the flower's heart unfurls to reveal
a boundless light that bathes the chamber in a celestial glow.
You feel compelled to TOUCH the fountain.

You reach out and touch a fountain of water and light.

As your fingertips brush against the luminous waters of the fountain, a single star lotus glides
into your hands. When you look up, a gentle light bathes your world in white before dissipating to
reveal the Assembly Hall of the Anointed.
You are whisked away by a whirl of starlight.

The Assembly Hall of the Anointed.
Stained-glass windows bathe this assembly hall in rays of white, blue and golden light as they
illuminate three corridors, each depicting a symbol of the Empyreal Goddess in starry sapphire and
diamond. Upon the centremost stained-glass window, a single urn has been drawn in luminous
starlight, four streams of water spilling forth from its depths. A single star lotus shines upon the
urn's surface, sparkling and radiant as it shines with a lustrous brilliance. Before the westernmost
and easternmost corridors, two more stained-glass windows reflect instead two koi fish - one white,
the other black - swimming about one another in a graceful, unceasing dance of duality. Sidereal
silks line the path throughout the innermost sanctum of the Temple, glistening beneath the coloured
light filtering through the windows above. Beautiful stained-glass windows gleam against the walls
in homage to the Lady Lantra. Shimmering beneath the stained-glass windows, an immaculate plaque of
starlit marble shines with muted beauty.
You see exits leading north, southeast, and southwest.

Pinpricks of celestial light coalesce into the faint outline of a star lotus, which blossoms open to
reveal the regal figure of Lantra, the Empyreal.

A pleased note to Her tone, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You are now granted access to My Inner
Sanctum whenever you desire it, as one of My Chosen Anointed."

Gazing about with evident, pleased surprise, Avaris clasps his hands together at
the small of his back, beneath the heavy mantle of his wings, emitting a bright, vibrating note of
quiet joy. "That is most wonderful to learn, Lady. I have often thought of this place - It is
wondrously beautiful." Bowing deeply to Lantra, his harmonious chorus of voices is alight with
sincere gratitude as he says, "Thank You, Lady."

Turning to look upon you thoughtfully, Lantra says, "I know you have been here at least once before,
but now you may come and go as you please. Merely look upon the windows and you shall find your
passage back to the Temple from whence you came." The joy in your voice seems to be echoed in Her
own, the gratitude received with a quiet pleasure. Then the Goddess's hand strays to an immaculate
plaque of starlit marble as She adds, "And there is the matter of the Argent Light. You shall find
you have your own place to focus upon your Devotion as a path."

Framed by an intricate array of jade-wrought star lotuses, this thin plaque has been wrought of
immaculate marble, upon which a single phrase has been inscribed with starlit calligraphy. A faint,
twinkling light emanates from the engraved stone, made all the brighter in its incandescence before
the beauty of the stained-glass windows that shine above it. Save for this, precious little
ornamentation adorns the plaque, allowing its incantation to speak for itself.
It is strangely weightless.
It has the following aliases: plaque.

You read what is written on an immaculate plaque of starlit marble:
May my soul be cleansed in Her Mystic Waters. May darkness be purged by Her Argent Light.

Lantra, the Empyreal intones, "Those of the Argent may speak the second statement aloud, and be
transported to such a retreat."

Rising, turns his attention to an immaculate plaque of starlit marble, which Avaris
inspects with great curiosity, antennae waving back and forth in small, interested motions. "That is
very kind of You to provide for the path, Lady. I will be sure to utilise it to its fullest. Thank
You, once more."

There is a sense that the Goddess is about to depart before She abruptly stops, Lantra tilting Her
head so that Her expression beyond the veil is partially revealed. "You have repeated many times how
you need not seek further audience with Me," the Empyreal says, "and that you may merely exist
beneath My notice, and serve under others of My Order. I do not desire this." The severity in Her
tone is not unkind, but almost maternal in its sternness. "Your Devotion is unto Me, Avaris. And as
My Anointed, you are to serve Me directly. Do not shy from My presence, for it will not suit your
position, only hinder it." For all the firmness in Her tone, there is, too, a sense of gentle
reassurance - a certainty, meant to assuage all doubt.

The statement takes the huge paladin aback, Avaris's head leaning away in surprise,
as his antennae flick back across the gleaming dome of his armoured head. He is slow to respond, and
there is the definite impression that beneath the immobile plating of his face, his mouth is working
as he strives to piece together some form of response. Eventually, he gives up, lowering himself
into a deep, respectful bow, his voice quiet as he says, "Yes, my Lady."

The chanting of feminine voices echoes throughout the Temple of Lantra, distant and beautiful.
You sense a quiet, unseen presence watching you here, at once both calming and disquieting.
The Goddess draws back Her veil ever so slightly, Her expression briefly visible as She smiles. "You
have done well, Avaris," Lantra says, pressing a faint kiss upon your brow. "I am most pleased."
Mere moments later, starry motes of light and sparkling mist swirl and gather around Her, sweeping
Her away in a soothing breeze. Only the echo of Her word remain: "Until We speak again, My
Anointed."

Lantra, the Empyreal has bestowed Her divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 30 months.

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "Congratulations, My Avaris, on becoming My Anointed of Argent Light."

(The Avowing): Faragan (from the Prime Material Plane) says, "Congratulations Avaris."

A brief, hesitant flickering of lights sparks to life within Avaris's azure eyes at
the pronouncement, the motes exploding like miniature supernovas as they wash away all traces of
blue in a flood of radiant, unbidden joy. Once the Goddess departs, however, they dwindle, bursting
into fitful flares of light, until they fade back to a sober blue.

(The Avowing): You say, "Thank You, my Lady, and you as well, Anointed Faragan."

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Pub: 12 Oct 2021 00:44 UTC
Edit: 12 Oct 2021 01:44 UTC
Views: 130