One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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There is no greater aspiration than to forgive those who have hurt you. For usually that pain they have inflicted is unintentional or a result of their own failings. Very rarely is it because they are purely wicked.
Book of Prayers 13:2
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"I can't commit any of our troops to the expedition you're proposing." Scouring the details of the map, its smooth and carefully drawn lines depicting all the lands ranging from the ocean to the west until the mountains far to the east, Gwen Havarston returned her answer. "Nor can I risk placing any of our spies and operatives in prominent danger by guarding and sheltering you during this undertaking."
Both Reane and Sayra noted how the elder rebel's demeanor overshadowed the cleric standing in her shadow. In her white robes, the slump of the younger woman's shoulders and the way she seemed detached from the conversation, did not speak to her being the actual leader of this Rebellion. Sheala, off in the corner picking at the underside of her fingernails with the tip of her dagger, had the same impression, even though she wasn't overly engaged in the banter and planning.
Commanding this meeting was the natural province of the older woman. Assembled and crammed into Gwen Havarston's makeshift headquarters, she continued to assimilate all the information gathered since these strangers had come upon their encampment. The eyes of the rebel commander showed how she used her years of experience to process the data and formulate a response with calculated efficiency before laying out her plans.
With a finger of her own, Sayra called attention to the mountains on the easternmost edge of the map. "The Tear of Earoni would tip the scales of this war in our favor, you must understand that?" Her words were initially directed to the woman denying their request, then she followed up with an appeal to the still pale cleric. "You understand that, don't you?"
"I do," Daphney said, more than a hint of deference to her counterpart now being verbalized.
Not even a day after finding no relief in confronting Anthony, the cleric had thrown herself back into her normal duties. Despite Sayra's appeal for her to rest, Daphney forewent the advice. Begrudgingly, and all things considered, even Sayra thought perhaps such was ultimately the best prescription for the broken heart and the pain from it etched on her face. Even though it was unspoken, there was a palpable tension between the cleric and the seer that had played out up to this point of the meeting. Although neither directly addressed it.
