239 Self Usage 21

When the Rivershrine was set ablaze, I saw a young woman, no more than fifteen or sixteen years of age, run out from the Shrine. She escaped my attention in the moment, until I saw her stare at me with wide eyes that shimmered with a grey-green light, hair the color of the sun flowing past her shoulders.

It was just like the Procedures had said, but she was not the crone that I had come to hear of, nor the young girl that she was described to be in my prayers. She is Sigurrós, impossibly young yet ancient, her eyes flecked with recognition.

***
Arnven Burns