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[Eclyse Christian]

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“Seems I’ve come full circle.” Eclyse smiled as she stood before the stone ankh at the Shrine of Compassion in the fading rays of twilight and pressed her open palm against it. The cold stone was as unyielding as the virtues to which she clung so tightly.

At her feet, a suit of pure white platemail armour lay upon a red velvet cloak. Eclyse pressed a kiss to the black stone ankh and knelt on the cold, damp ground. Before her lay the armour she would wear upon taking her vows of knighthood, and beyond it stood the Ankh of Compassion. Silently, she allowed her thoughts to commune with the energies around her as she began to sink into meditation and prayer for sanctification.

The ankh stood stately and solid before her, and Eclyse gazed intently upon it, then closed her eyes, the image still present in her heart and mind. Compassion had brought her this far, and it would lead her home.

[Eclyse Christian]

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“Bloody ‘ell.” Eclyse sighed deeply and lifted aloft her lantern as her horse paused at a three-way fork on the path. He shuffled his hooves slightly, unsure of the command. The highlands outside of Delucia were still unfamiliar, despite the fact that she’d been circling and weaving through them for hours. “Where is it??”

Her brow set with determination, Eclyse looked at each path in turn and settled on the one that led due west. With a loud cry, she urged her steed down the western path. Leaning down over his neck, she uttered soft words to him, encouraging his hooves to fly across the terrain at breakneck speed. The sun was already hemming the mountains with a gold shimmer as dawn prepared to chase the deep purple of night down the mountainsides and across the fields of heather.

As the first rays spilled over the world’s crest, a rippling glint ahead and to her left caught Eclyse’s eye. “Yes! Tha’s it, tha’s got t’ be it!” A gentle hand reigned her steed off the trail and through a stand of oaks to a clearing beside the river.

“Saint! We found it!” Eclyse slid down the horse’s flank and bounced buoyantly as she touched down onto the ground. She wrapped her arms gently around the stallion’s neck and pressed her cheek tightly against its sinew, burying her face against his soft mane. “Thank ye, my swift an’ loyal friend.,” she whispered as he lowered his head.

She left Saint loosely tethered to a tree and removed a paper-wrapped parcel from his saddle pack, then walked to the water’s edge. Carefully, she opened the parcel and unfolded a pure white robe, draping it over a low-hanging branch. She took a small silver flask from her belt and uncapped it, gazing thoughtfully out across the water.

Alone I chose this path, an’ alone I shall see it t’ completion. Without thinking, she crossed herself as she had seen Kaylor do so many times before, and took a mouthful of red wine, then capped the flask again and dropped it into the soft, fading autumn grass at her feet.

[Eclyse Christian]

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The water was much colder than she remembered. Of course, the last time she’d waded into this water, the summer sun’s rays had warmed the water well into the waning hours of evening. She thought back to that night, and her halting awkwardness at performing this very ritual with Kaylor. She’d come a long way since that night. And truthfully, so had he.

Eclyse waded out, waistdeep in the clear running water of the river, and untied the black satin ribbon that held her long dark hair in a loose plait. She raked her fingers through her hair, then took handfuls of the cold, clear water and poured them over her bare flesh.

“Your hands and water, only,” Kaylor had said to her. “Pure.”

Eclyse sank into the water until it covered the tops of her shoulders. With a deep breath, she immersed herself. The water was frigid, but no more so than the cutting autumn wind as she arose from the water, her black waves water-slicked, her skin pricked with chill. Carefully she wiped the water from her face and emerged onto the riverbank. Rivulets of water streaked down her body as she shivered and dried herself. Finally, she slipped into the pure white cotton robe that fluttered gently in the morning breeze.

With quiet resolve, she packed the clothes she’d left behind into Saint’s saddle pack and mounted up. “To Empath Abbey, my friend. Absolution awaits.”