Present Day

Dragon Realm Cypress

And upon the fields of battle

When all hope seemed lost

She grew her wings of Red

And her Chosen, wings so White.

And upon the fields of battle

When all hope seemed lost

Jedeo and her Mighty Few

Silenced the children of the Night

Avalon closed the Book of Red and kissed her Silencer’s scabbard. Whispers swept through the church like a gentle breeze. Avalon smiled. The holy traditions brought her a serenity she tended to forget about during her missions. In fires of war, one seeks the peace of a simple prayer. Faith is a comfort not every soul seeks, but faith is a comfort that welcomes everyone. Avalon learned this the hard way, but she was thankful that she had.

A familiar face caught her eye as she stood to light a candle at the altar. Wiccer knelt by a pew, the Book of Red clutched tightly in his left hand, with his right wrapped in a set of clay prayer beads.

Avalon sat on the bench behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “What troubles you my friend?”

Wiccer opened an eye and turned to see Avalon’s scarred but kind face. “It has been a while Avalon.”

“Aye, the last we saw each other was…” She pretended to think about the memory. “Last Winter’s Moon festival?”

“I could have sworn we bumped into each other during the Summer’s Feast,” laughed Wiccer.

“Ah yes, you were that yikahti that hurt his paw juggling daggers!” teased Avalon

“Come now, I know I need to shave, but I look nothing like Lear!” Wiccer jabbed the Silent One nearly off the pew.

“Wiccer, Lear, I tend to get you two confused,” she teased.

“Yes, the Summer’s Feast. It was a good night,” mused Wiccer, “I wish these days were as good as those…”

The smile faded from Avalon’s face.

“I have a confession,” said Wiccer. “I can’t tell a priest.” He tightened his grip on his book. “No priest would understand the trials of a warrior – not like a Silent One would.” Wiccer’s voice lessened to a whisper.

“Pass me the weight on your mind, so I may bear it.” Avalon knelt down to Wiccer’s level. “I have taken a mission that my king knows nothing about.” Wiccer swallowed hard. “He

knows nothing about it because the mission is to devise anarchy against him and Lost Dawns.” Avalon nodded, but paused to let him continue.

“We gathered volunteers from ARO to form a new clan to go deep undercover. We are trying to infiltrate a new shadow organization. One that Inle is a part of, but to do this we have volunteered to be completely controlled by them. I fear what they will ask of us next.”

Avalon placed a hand on Wiccer’s head. “Do you wish to be absolved of your sins?” “No one can absolve the sins of man, no one but the gods.”

“Then what do you wish of me?”

“I wish for you to understand that what I do is in keeping with the Angel of Justice’s divine plan.” He turned to Avalon. He was wrought the competing spirits of both determination and frustration, as if he tried but couldn’t believe his own words. “That Jedeo will see I am not another lost soul.”

Avalon searched the soldier’s eyes, they were worn. Heavy. No longer full of the zeal he once had for a challenge. “Are you lost?”

Wiccer furrowed his brow. Tears bubbled in his eyes. “I don’t know anymore. All I know is that forest still haunts me when I sleep and when I am awake. I can’t… I can’t move on.”

Avalon knew Wiccer sought her for solace, but in truth, she couldn’t even console herself. She tried to confide in her Blade Sister, but Vada, as much as she had a deep seeded connection to her, might have as well been made of wood.

“I see your troubles, I understand memories are powerful weapons when used against us…” “But you can’t cleanse them from me,” finished

Wiccer. “It’s something you have to work out yourself, my friend. Work out, alone.”

Avalon rose to her feet and lowered her head. Her next words cut her deeply. “For most of us.”