Within the inner sanctum of the palace, torchlight stretched across the walls, casting a long, smokey shadow of the great statue of one of the ladies of the Sepith. It was of Aidios, she who bore the First Oath of Iron. It was a hollow depiction of her beauty and power, for no mortal hands could emulate the divine.
Below the statue of Aidios, Ariane knelt on one knee, her head bowed.
A rustle of wind echoed from a distance past, wafted through the sanctum, gliding through Ariane's golden hair.
"The Boy," came a sultry voice from the statue of Aidios herself. "Tell me about the boy."
"I believe him to be touched by the Hells, your eminence," she said, her head lowering even further. "Though I have no proof. I felt…" she stopped as if to hesitate whether to speak her mind.
"Speak your heart, child," echoed the statue.
