Velor dreamt of a searing sun, illuminating thousand warriors bleeding as one. In the center stood a goddess—terrifying and beautiful—shining brighter than the sun itself. He recognized her as Ariadna, not the small child he had seen earlier, but as a striking woman, a fierce warrior radiating power. She commanded attention, love, and devotion—a true goddess walking among mortals.
Startled awake, he sat up quickly. It was rare for him to dream of the faith, and a chill coursed through him as he realized the night felt cold and foreboding. Rising from his bed, he retrieved his leather-bound notebook from his luggage. Settling next to the fireplace, he began to write down the dream. The notebook was already half full—impressive for someone his age.
He stared into the flames, recalling the heat and fervor of the soldiers in his dream. Another shiver ran through him. He knew dreams could be deceptive; they were rarely clear or straightforward. But how could he possibly interpret this one? His thoughts drifted back to Ariadna. She had seemed like all of the other youngest hollt children—lost, confused, and harboring disdain for her family. Yet, despite her youth, she displayed a power that mirrored that of the god himself, even with just a fraction of what had been gifted to her.
"What does it all mean?" he whispered frustratedly, unable to find answers. Sleep evaded him, and he remained awake until dawn.
When the maid entered the room the next morning, she found the young lord asleep on the thick carpet in front of the fireplace, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. If she could have read it, she would have seen written in neat lines:
*O God of Balance, weave our fates together,
Let our hearts be as strong as the fires that forge them,
And our spirits as vibrant as the new life that follows.
In your name, we honor the cycle,
Embracing both the darkness and the light.*