White light enveloped the centre of the platform. The Hands
of Almalexia standing around it suddenly straightened, lowered their eyes in
the position of attention and respect. When the light cleared, none of them
looked up to see that it was not their goddess that had returned, but rather a
young woman, standing silently in the middle of Almalexia’s platform, her robe
charred and torn and covered in muck and blood. Her skin was scratched and
bleeding, her hair tangled and matted with sweat, every inch of her body
aching. Upon her belt hung Trueflame and Hopesfire, the twin blades. The Mazed
Band rested on her finger beside Moon-and-Star. And in her arms she carried a
clay jar, sealed at the top. Silently, Fen passed the silent Hands and walked
through the reception chamber, ignoring the stares of the priests and
Ordinators there.