I swear I still believe but I don't know
His feet had taken him here, carrying a psyche that was haggard and worn raw after barely an evening in the dark. Shielded from harm by the halo of light cast by his antlers, the half-luxere trudged up the hill to Safrin’s shrine. Rexanna, Clemente, dead. Amalia putting herself in danger to come and check on him. And monstrous apparitions of his dead daughter, lurking always just out of sight. Ronin was exhausted, and just needed bolstering for a moment.
He didn’t see Wessex at all, shrouded and hidden in shadow as she was, and he stepped into the circle of starwhale light to drop to one knee before the stones of the shrine. Reaching out, Ronin brushed his fingers over the markings in the rock; Aoife’s childish drawings made permanent by Safrin.
He didn’t see Wessex at all, shrouded and hidden in shadow as she was, and he stepped into the circle of starwhale light to drop to one knee before the stones of the shrine. Reaching out, Ronin brushed his fingers over the markings in the rock; Aoife’s childish drawings made permanent by Safrin.
the dark star
