Threads of Fate

Greyriver Steading
Dawn's light streamed softly through the window of a room in Greyriver Lodge, gently rousing Voah from her sleep. As her eyes adjusted to the soft light, she scanned the surroundings she hadn’t seen in the darkness the eve before. The room was simple, yet charming, filled with personal items left behind seemingly in haste. There was a hunting bow and quiver of arrows propped against the wall, a collection of brightly colored bird feathers, and dried flowers, and a staff partially carved with birds -- items that hinted at projects unfinished, aspirations unfulfilled. On a small dresser lay faded hair ribbons and a thriving potted plant with green leaves and a yellow flower... That was something familiar.

She sat up, stretching her neck and shoulders and rubbed her eyes. As the mild remnants of last night’s merriment ebbed, realization fully dawned on Voah that this had once been Islana’s room.

Surrounded by echoes of Islana's life, Voah felt a strange connection to the woman’s dramatic journey from a young woman nearly sacrifice by Slivhiki's Creed to becoming the immortal Prophetess of the Ozainae. How strange and convoluted their paths had become. Tracing the carved birds on the staff, she pondered her own path, the continuous thread of fate binding this small group, and the price of the choices they had made.