Chapter 3: Dark Forces Stir
Seraphina stood upon the palace balcony, gazing out across the plains, where dawn's rose hues faded into azure. Days had passed in Radiance's sanctuary, honing her gift under Solomon's tutelage. Yet unrest lingered as rumors of Shadowfall's host massing at the border whispered on fairy winds.
A presence approached, its heaviness betrayed by the armor's clank. Seraphina turned to find a knight removing his helm, revealing a weathered yet noble face. "Good morning, young Guardian. I am valiant." His bow was respectful yet firm, and his eyes were gleaming with vigor befitting his name.
"Rumors say you assisted our line before amnesia found you. But your skill with the sword regains its former glory with each bout. It will serve us well against the darkness ahead." Valiant's words encouraged her yet reminded her of mysteries unsolved. Her hand strayed to where memories had been as he spoke of defending innocents should war come.
A voice interrupted softly yet firmly. "Doubt shall not weaken our champion's resolve while I breathe." Grace approached, golden tresses flowing from her healer's circlet as waves of tranquility emanated from her. "Come, friends. God's light favors prayer in these gardens this morning."
They walked beneath willow boughs, dappling the grass with shadows. Seraphina's tensions ebbed away as Grace's lulling tones guided reflection. Images surfaced—whispering prayers amidst shimmering wheat, young voices lifting in song, shadows drawing nearer through the fields. The faces of loved ones gleamed, yet they slipped from grasping minds like wisps dissolving at dawn.
Her chest tightened until a gentle hand squeezed hers. "Pray seek the Creator's face; let his visions come and go naturally without restraint." Grace's counsel soothed fretful thoughts. They walked awhile longer in silence until Seraphina felt renewed.
The day passed in Radiance's tranquility, yet warnings whispered in the winds of change. That night, vivid dreams assaulted her: robed figures chanting amidst flames, a towering figure laughing upon a black throne, armies spilling from a realm of shadow to engulf the land in darkness.
She awoke shaking, the images' malevolence clinging like mist. Seraphina rose and hastened through shadowed hallways, emerging where moonlight draped the arena in a pensive glow. Drawing her sword, she began practicing techniques with fervor, letting the purifying blade drive away impressions of evil.
Footsteps sounded, but she did not cease her dance with the weapon. A voice she had come to trust said gently, "Your turmoil I sense, young one. But surrender doubt and dwell not in visions of fear; have faith that in the Lord of Light he will guide our step."
Solomon's reassurance soothed fretful emotions, and the blade's rhythm regained tranquility as uncertainty lifted from her shoulders. Whatever awaited on the morrow, with such allies beside her, Seraphina felt ready to face whatever challenges arose to test her mettle and rediscover her role in the sweet yet perilous realm of Etherea.