Like Falling Leaves…

Ostiarium

Voah watched as Sir Zane strode away, his armor gleaming under the filtering light of the late-morning sun. The old knight's steps were purposeful and steady, heading towards Stoneshade Keep, where decisions of great import awaited.

She lingered in the secluded glade for a moment longer, taking in the serene beauty that had served as their meeting place. A cold gust of wind came in from the Sea of Storms. The whispers of the wind through the ancient oak leaves seemed to carry the weight of the future, as if the wind was fate, and each leaf was holding on by a thread to fight for its own destiny. She made her peace as she watched them cling fruitlessly, seeing her own fate reflected in their fall.

With a deep breath, Voah turned and began her own journey back into Ostiarium. Her path led her through the outskirts of Lowood, where the chaotic bustle of urban life arose. The transition from the secluded glade to the noisy streets of the colony-city was stark, each step bringing her closer to the reality she must face. What if this was the end? There was no guarantee the Keep would want to bother keeping her around any longer.

She kept her head low, her disguised form still blending into the crowd, just another face among many. Her destination was the Drunken Hare where she hoped to leave a crucial message for Alexis Greyriver.

She was relieved to see that the man with the large hare wasn’t currently in his usual place outside the door as she felt her nostalgia might give her away. She descended the stairs into the burrowed bar, which was already a warren of activity, patrons and staff bustling about, their conversations a little less heavy of solemn worry and impending doom than those in the streets.

Voah approached the counter, her presence barely noticed amidst the reek and . The innkeeper, a burly man, glanced up as she neared.

"A message for Alexis Greyriver," Voah said, her voice low but clear. The man wiped down a spot at the bar for her, then reached under a nearby shelf and produced an inkwell, quill, and a small parchment.

She quickly penned a note, her handwriting swift and precise. The message was brief but conveyed the necessary information: 'I’ve spoken firsthand with our Sir Knight. You can find me at my old lodgings while I await word from the Keep.'

She handed the note to the innkeeper, who took it with a nod, slipping it into a pocket of his apron for safe delivery. Voah thanked him with a few coppers she’s recovered from the street and made her way to the door. On her way she shouted, “Hoi, bless us for the bounty of good harvest and ale!” to which there was a resounding cheer, and stepped outside, the noise of the tavern fading as the door swung shut behind her.

Her next destination was the rectory where she had once found shelter with the Friar and other brothers and sisters of the faith. The journey there brought back memories of her arrival, and her steps in cleaning up the aftermath of the Creed, each corner and alleyway whispering tales of past encounters and trials. As she approached the familiar building, another wave of nostalgia washed over… the echoes of her past.

The time for subterfuge had passed. If fate decreed her downfall at this time, Voah resolved to meet it not as a disguised fugitive but as herself, embracing her style of regal piety inspired by the Mizaran theocrats and oligarchs of old. She donned the set of red robes, commissioned last winter for the Creed executions, their rich scarlet fabric falling loosely on her gaunt frame. She would have to do some cinching, but it was perfect otherwise, the vestiges of blood no longer staining the hems.

Clasping her short hair into a tight ponytail, she washed the deliberate dirt of the disguise from her face, smoothed out her eyebrows and lashes, applied dusky eye makeup and a lip stain to highlight her feminine features. Completing her transformation, Voah adorned earrings that dangled and scattered the light of Kupen with every movement, and dabbed on clove oil perfume

Now, all she could do was wait for news from the Keep. Outside, the pulse of the city beat with urgency, but within the sanctuary of her room, a calm settled over her. Voah closed her eyes, her lips moving in silent invocation. She called upon each of the Pillars—Ereuhin, Vastad, Hoi, Kupen, Cambena, Panolis, Orestes, and finally Zin—seeking their forgiveness and guidance for whatever awaited her.