[Dacorum]

Setting aside his thoughts of failure for the moment, Dacorum looked back over his shoulder at the sound. He knew at a glance who she was, even from this far away. Not for any aura of greatness about her soul – she was humblingly mortal –
nonetheless, he could see it within her: hope, rising on bruised knees.

He extended his hand as he drew near, helping her to rise. The shock he felt at the touch held him speechless for a moment, a sense not of power but of potential.

“I heard you talking to my parents,” she was saying. Her hand slipped from his. “I wanted to know more…” She was staring at her feet, embarrassed or frightened, her dark hair shadowing her face.

A sigh escaped the Divine warrior before he responded. This was unexpected. “My words to your father were true. Powers make puppets of destiny, and you have been chosen by the Light of Ascaria. I do not know if the world can be spared should you refuse the call.”

She looked up at him then, an echo of the keenness he'd seen in her father's gaze. “I saw,” she said, still regaining her breath. “The other night, I had the strangest dream. There was so much darkness, but there I was, with the most... spectacular of swords, standing up against it.”

Hearing that, the world calmed around Dacorum, the sound of the wind and the forest animals fading to a silent drone within him. We shared in the vision? Then, she knows already what she must face.

“What is your name?” The question escaped him unrefined, but time was precious.

“Mirothea, though I prefer Mira. May I ask for yours, sir?”

“I am Dacorum, once Knight Divine, now lordless. I believe, Mira, that I must speak with your parents once again.”