XXXI - The Living God

Fen had not seen the Royal Palace of Mournhold until she was seven years old. She remembered the moment precisely, as if it had happened moments ago. Her aunt, or the woman she had thought to be her aunt, held her hand as they stepped into the tall-ceilinged, light-filled room hung with rose-colored banners emblazoned with the Royal crest. Barenziah and Helseth had been sitting on their twin thrones at the head of the room on their dais, leaning toward one another and speaking quietly. The air was sweet from the planters of Timsa-Come-By that lined it, and she remembered thinking that Barenziah’s deep green robe was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

XXX - Hortator and Nerevarine

I apologise for the lack of an update last week. Real life got in the way. I will try to make sure it doesn't happen again.

The sun had not yet risen when Fen and Julan set out for Tel Branora. The boat ride was nearly six hours, and Fen spent the majority of the time on deck, watching the smooth gray rocks of Azura’s Coast drift sluggishly past. It was midmorning when they arrived at the docks of Tel Branora, a crooked Telvanni town that was situated in a gloomy, rock-covered valley by the water. The skies overhead were gray and heavy with waiting rain.