The light of dawn sprayed inward through the ceiling crevices, dispersing so subtly an awakening ray within the spacious sanctum. Sencis awoke to the sound of howling winds just outside, then remembered the skeletons which she could now clearly see in the creeping sun.

Now that she could see through the interior of the sanctum, she felt smaller, its expanse better suited to multitudes. Its pristine tiles, checker-patterned in diamond shapes of contrasting blue and white inlaid and glazed, would have held the feet of faithful masses arriving hither from many havens in the west. All of it remained intact by the sturdy quartet of stone pillars successfully keeping the sacred ground suspended in time many years after abandonment.

More suited to the pillars' safekeeping was the previously obscured mural. Particular pieces were still missing, replaced by black blotches with tangling cracks. Yet despite the missing history, what remained shown itself no less romantically.

Sencis then peered unto a slumbering Neleve not far from her; he was a man whose personality even shown in his sleep, his snoring indecisive of whether they were indeed snores or simply groans, his face occasionally relieved into an optimistic grin followed by confusion. No Dane, however. The mysterious warrior was missing.

She decided to test a theory. Taking one of the stone slabs previously fixed in their campfire, she tossed the piece a great distance over the posterior end of the sanctum. A loud clamoring echoed with the impact, running throughout the interior. Neleve was still sound asleep. She crouched down beside the heavy sleeper, contemplating whether or not to wake him. "If I just lay here, will you continue to stare?" he asked. Sencis then stood up, startled. That's when he opened his eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" she questioned.

"I heard a loud noise."

"Odd..."

Sencis would exit the ruined sanctum the way they entered, followed by Neleve once he collected himself. But even after they arrived outdoors, Dane was nowhere to be seen. They scoured the area, searching what few spaces were accessible within the walled ruin.

Neleve swiftly inspected the quarters that were but a stroll away from the sanctum. After a peer through the slit of the former chapter house, he concluded Dane was not there. Nothing was. They quickly exhausted the possibilities of his retirement. There was nothing but an exposed courtyard and dilapidated wall. For a brief second, Neleve considered he had abandoned them, a contemptible moment of misgiving before he finally looked up to the battlements. Sencis simultaneously felt witless for not having considered the vantage point of the walls

Before long, they upon the stone walkway and lost no time in peering over the crenels until they found Dane just on the other side of the north wall. He was stationary on the grassy plains, apparently staring into the distance.

#

When they reached him on the glade, he was stationary still. "Why are you just standing here?" casually questioned Neleve. Dane was slow to answer, apparently too focused. "I am watching and waiting," he replied, "seeking conclusions towards what it is I see lest my eyes betray me again. But now that you have arrived, perchance you may distinguish what it is I see just ahead."

Sencis observed a standing figure in their center field of vision, situated in the undulating glades beside a dark row of conspicuous markers. She couldn't tell what they were, even by her unperturbed vision.

Neleve wasted no time. He advanced in the direction of the figure and row, sauntering up the evergreen waves as the wind blew north with his feet. Dane and Sencis followed, unsure of what to expect. Step after step the images materialized, the first—most discernible—aspect being that the figure was a kneeling with his or her back to them. As to what they kneeled before, it was a lump of dirt in row of adjacent lumps, then another row behind that, and another row beyond that. The markers, they were wooden poles firmly implanted in the center of each earthly disturbance, some with necklaces bearing an eight-sided star. It was not long before the three companions realized they were observing a grave site. And so they stopped a respectable distance from the individual, conscientiously deciding on silence until the meditating stranger felt inclined to turn around.

...May you find peace in the embrace of Eternity.

Leaning on a cedar staff, the lone figure rose to his feet; he was tall, perhaps taller than Neleve. He turned around to face them, and his visage shown quite serene since it was besmirched by neither age nor toil; rather, it was personably cool and collected with eyes bluer than the morning sky above. Behind them glistened the promise of enlightenment, a gaze unimposing but focused. His light skin contrasted well with those irises, as starkly as they themselves contrasted with the jet-black mane tied in a sleek tail behind his back. He wore a navy-blue scarf around his neck, over the collar of his white robes that nearly stretched over the ankles of his leather boots, and beneath everything was garbed in a dark brown arming jerkin and matching padded pants. From his waist hung an ornate sword pommel with its blade sheathed in a black scabbard. On the other side, a leather-bound tome that hung from a strap on his shoulder. "Wanderers. Hello," said the man in soft greeting. "Are you, by chance, here to pay respects?"

Dane humbly replied first. "No. You were right in thy address. We are but wanderers."

"I see." And the white figure turned, calmly reverting to his quiet meditation among the dead.

Sencis felt lightly slighted but stifled her apprehension because of the strange nature of this encounter. Neleve, ever curious, ran his eyes all along the multitude of graves. "The event of these burials, how did they transpire?" he self-questioned, for he failed to realize he was thinking aloud.

"They were buried together, one and all" replied the stranger. "A consequence of grave imprudence, I'm afraid. And so here they lay, victims to servile whims before a vast torrent of malevolence cycling to and fro The Matriarch's domain. A reminder of The Ecclesia's fallibility where disputes of man are concerned—though not a semblance of failure, martyrs to His name: an illusion of omnibenevolence or omnipotence, I cannot decide which. So I stand one apart."

"If I may." Dane stepped forward. "Would you enlighten us to these souls? That I may properly pay my respects."

The white stranger rose once more to face his visitors, and leveled his staff toward the rows of burials. "Would that I could. So many names sorrowfully escaped my learning." With all the wonder the stranger invoked, Dane had to ponder. Neleve more so. But precipitating their questions, the stranger continued, "Even in the frontier, I would not forsake civilities. I would ask your names. Mine is Kalen Lawson."

"Dane is my name."

"And I am Neleve."

"I am Sencis Dawnstrider."

Kalen nodded then returned his attention to the graves. He placed his hand on one pole in particular. "I may tell thee of this one; his name was Hastings. And beside him, Sir Sebastian. Fallen men of faith like so many before them. " He pointed to a grave down the row. "There lies a priestess named Seren; a monk, Keller; there, Sir Henry; there, Andhel. All of them undeserving of their fate."

They waited patiently while Kalen recounted the names of people beneath their feet, listening with solemn integrity.

Slowly, gently, the wind faded in its course over the four travelers. Dane passed another gaze along the row of deceased with a newfound air of respect, his yearning more keen on delivering due honor unto the warriors with which he felt an astral kinship, owed to their common familiarity with strife. All he could do was rest on his knees, like Kalen, and internally soliloquize in their name. And Sencis performed no less, assuming a place on her knees and clasping her hands together in a form of prayer she seemed accustomed to. Neleve eventually posed as such, although seemingly stranger to such a ritual. So he took after Sencis to avoid the semblance of ignorance. Kalen had, likewise, sat on his knees; however, he never performed the clasping of the hands.

"May you find peace in the embrace of Eternity," recited Dane, and rose to his feet. Kalen did the same. Then Sencis and Neleve.

"Like they did, you perforce faith," Kalen told Dane.

"How did they die?" asked Dane.

"Battle," answered Kalen. "But I can impart to thee neither event nor manner of their departure, for I did not witness it." He took a few steps past them, in the direction of the ruins. "'Twas serendipity—fortuitous or condemning, I do not know—that saved my own breath in the midst of blackness and death." After staring at the ruins, he turned around and faced his acquaintances. "Fortune hath played its tricks on me twice, maiming my soul through my survival, and I can find no answers for it."

The sound of birds chirping and leaves blowing consoled the air as Dane once more surveyed the plot of graves.

Then there came a new sound: a dissonant groaning in Kalen's stomach. Then Neleve's. Then Sencis's. Then Dane's.

"I see I'm not alone," said Kalen.

"Time to hunt!" exclaimed Neleve, swiftly rising. Then he stopped himself and performed one final clasp of the hands. "May they live peacefully in Eternity's embrace." It was his last word before recommending they press on.

#

The tall man in white shared no indication of his motives, following prayer in the field. He was of somber countenance throughout, and his quietly patient demeanor told his anticipation of their party's departure; yet, he said nothing. So Dane set one foot forward to speak when Sencis preceded him. "Where will you go from here?" she inquired.

"I would inquire before giving my own answer," returned Kalen. "Whither doth thy trio venture?"

They were surprised by his question, considering his nonchalance towards them hitherto. Dane answered. "We travel east," he declared.

"East!?" Kalen expounded, his face twitching with astonishment and horror in a new display of liveliness. "What possesses thee to head east?"

"I do. I am in possession of myself, and you may say I travel without providence that providence may find me."

"And I travel with him!" exclaimed Neleve with a queer tone of pride.

"I follow," added Sencis. "You may come."

"That is your choice," added Dane. "Pilgrims are we, wanderers too, for the time being. I struck own path not long ago, and came upon them." He looked back at Sencis, then Neleve's grin. "Strange serendipity you may call it."

"Serendipity is, by its very nature, a thing uncanny," replied Kalen. And he pondered, his face a blank stare of heavy thought and cryptic confliction. But after lending time to that thought: his life, serendipity, and Hastings, he came to a decision. East, where the land remains untamed and the faithless lurked about. 'Deliver the faithful and beat down the proud.' Acceptance from hospitable strangers reminded him of another time, a time of fleeting pride. So his eyes breathed in the monastery ruins one last time while he pondered the difference between luck, fate, and coincidence. Then, his irides twinkled.

"If you can deliver me to a realm unspoiled, accompany me to pastures holy and homely, I shall travel with thee."

Following his answer, a swift and sudden noise of grumbling struck their ears: a gurgling of sorts. It stopped for a moment but then came back. Dane quickly realized it was coming from Sencis. Her sanguine look exposed her, which would have invoked her singular embarrassment had it not been for the next round of grumbling that resounded from Neleve's gut. This noise transferred from Neleve to Kalen, provoking Dane's inevitable suggestion.

"We must quell the source of these rumblings."