[Dacorum]

He rapped on the door, once, twice, and then waited. The dwelling was modest in size, only one story, and was not overly decorated. The lure of the prophecy had led him into the rural domains of Quesaria, to this unassuming home, where the Vessel of Light would emerge.

Fate turns us a modest eye, and thus humbles the mighty in their courts. Knights for all their valor, sorcerers and their fey wisdom, are spurned for an untried child. This is to be our test.

He stood at attention as the door creaked open, revealing a tidy, plump woman, her hair a dark brown. Her green-eyed regard was steady, patient and questioning.

"Milady, good day,” he began, holding her gaze. “I regret to trouble you, but I come upon a matter of some urgency."

The warmth in her face waned even as she gave him an indulging smile. "If you'd wait but a moment, I'll bring my husband." Dacorum watched, unmoving, as she swept back into her home.

They will be loath to yield the girl, and just in it. Cruel burdens should not be borne by one so young, and I can make no promises to console them. We do as needs must.

The man who faced him now was tall, even with age upon him. The hand that clasped his own was powerful, calloused from long years of labor. There was something grim to the cast of his eyes. “Not many knights come questing this far afield. What can we help you with?" And shrewd, too. He'd thought to avoid suspicion by leaving his armor behind.

“I give you my word, sir; I would not intrude upon your family at aught but the direst need. The tale is long, and time presses merciless upon us. There are forces at work in the world seeding ruin and desolation, and each passing dawn brings nearer the harvest.” Neither of them blinked as his word took root. Dacorum could see confusion and bitter realization war within his host. “I know not why, nor how, but your daughter holds in her hands the key to salvation. If there is to be any hope for us all, she must join my charge.”

A fraught moment passed, and he could see their answer before it was uttered. "No." The man strode forward, pride and strength drawing his shoulders high. “I'll not see my only daughter dragged through hell on one man's word.”

Dacorum thought again of fate, of the calamities he'd been promised, of the future's weight hanging upon his next words. And he thought then of innocence, of justice and honor in their unsullied perfection, of what would need to be given up to set the girl upon this path. “So be it.” He bowed and turned away.

There will be war, and I will stand the line once more, in defense of these people. I will, perhaps, die for them. There have been less worthy causes.

[Mirothea]

She hadn't heard every word, hiding in her bedroom as Father had bid her, but she'd heard enough. Memories of the nightmare she'd suffered weeks ago were vivid, sights of horror she'd never dreamed before. Her parents had insisted it was nothing, just her restless imagination at work again, but the sense of haunting had remained with her, and now this...

Mira followed as close behind the stranger as she could without alerting him. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, leading his horse by the bit, a defeated slump to his shoulders. She didn't know who he was, but she was certain he was connected to the visions. The things he had said to Father, about the end of the world and war and darkness, had felt so familiar. She had to know what he meant.

She thought again of the stars winking out, the hideous laughter echoing through the heavens, the rotting flowers on the moon, and then she was falling, ankle twisting over a jutting root. She moaned as the breath was driven from her, and then winced as she saw the man stop.

Great, now I'm in trouble...

[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.”

[Mirothea]

They'd passed the rest of the day in the shade of the trees, with Dacorum telling her all he knew of the meaning of their vision. The war between the Divine and the Corrupt was on the verge of erupting again, and Ascaria sat defenseless without its goddess. The battle, he'd insisted, would likely fall once again upon Quesaria, or even upon all the worlds. After hearing it all, she was determined to go, to aid in whatever way she could.

Now, arriving back at her family's home, she felt a creeping terror at facing her parents, at them refusing her to go. “Let me try to convince them,” she told Dacorum as they drew near. “They know of the vision, I just need to convince them how important this all is.”

“And if they refuse once again?” He sounded as if he was prepared to march into battle.

She glanced back at Dacorum with more confidence than she actually felt. “I'm of age. I can make my own choices. I'd just prefer to have their blessing.”

She struggled not to tremble as she reached for the door. Here’s hoping this is the right decision…

[Dacorum]

He'd been waiting for the better part of an hour before she emerged, listening to the drone of shouts from within. It had not gone well. He could not fault her courage, though, standing for the cause she had chosen. If nothing else, they must respect the conviction and integrity in the girl they'd raised.

When she finally emerged, slamming the door behind her, Dacorum elected not to ask how the meeting had gone. The pack slung over her shoulder spoke well enough to their direction now.

He eyed her with sympathy for a brief moment, then turned to ready his horse. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Yes, there's nothing more to do here.”

They were quick in leaving her home behind.