new sanctifier vision!

Chamber of Tides.
Richly coloured blue tiles line this chamber, the gentle curve to the walls reminiscent of the swell of the oceans. Each tile is uniquely shaped, and placed with such great artistry as to form an expansive mosaic that spans all of the walls. In contrast, the floor and ceiling are made of beautiful white marble, with barely a hint of light grey swirling amidst its glossy form. About the edges of the round chamber are set lanterns that hang from the ceiling, formed of a mixture of silver and shell, and lit with an ever-burning flame of peerless white. Their perpetually dancing light serves to enhance the feeling of being deep underwater, ever enrapt in the embrace of the tides. Cascading from ceiling to floor, a veil of liquid light scatters radiance and balm whilst preventing egress to a northern chamber. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. The Thalassos takes up almost the entirety of the chamber, though its coral basin reflects not a drop of water. Its glorious details bathed in celestial light, the Banner of Righteous Sanctity whips about as if to mark the continued promise and testimony of St. Loathys.
You see a single exit leading up.

---> no emote from the thalassos anymore :(

You pat the Thalassos in a friendly manner.
You rest your hands upon the Thalassos solemnly speaking, "May the purest waters cleanse your soul and may the Light fortify it against the darkness." You feel power welling within you and sweeping over the Thalassos as the sound of water fills the air.
You crease your brow in a frown.

Whipping to and fro upon temporal winds, the Banner of Righteous Sanctity stands bathed in celestial light; dripping in this golden brilliance, every spangled and bejeweled detail of the flag's ivory-dyed brocade can be seen, revealing an illuminated tableau of the life of St. Loathys and the Champions of Flame. Bordered in threads of gold, sections of the flag reveal Loathys' upbringing, her meeting of her handmaidens, training with the angels of Celestia, and their battle with the Army of Love beneath the Burning Star. But most significant is the woven depiction of Loathys herself: eyes downcast, fins pressed like a crown, her hands gripping tightly around a holy symbol of her own make; Methrenton, the Crusader of the Holy Flame, stands behind her, the pair wreathed in pearl-studded flame. Planted upright and solidly into the ground, the golden pole of the banner has been carved and shaped into the vague figure of angels and dolphins, a reminder of the glorious promise that the Saint offers to the world.
It weighs about 30 pounds.
The Effulgent Banner of Righteous Sanctity is holding:
Nothing.
It has the following aliases: banner, project.
[HINT]: To get a better look at the banner's glorious details, you should GRAB ahold of the BANNER.
[HINT]: You may PUSH on the Effulgent Banner of Righteous Sanctity to prime it to receive gold sovereigns. You will not be able to place gold sovereigns in it without priming.

You reach out and grab hold of the Effulgent Banner of Righteous Sanctity's flag tail, your fingers rubbing against its silken fabric and smooth, jeweled adornments. It is then, light fills your thoughts as a vision washes across your mind's eye.

"There," Ireta whispers. Her smile is thin but she shows teeth. The fabric she puts around you--your father's old cape--flutters in ripples of blue cotton, its golden hem reflecting in the torchlight.

Sheathing Radele's sword, you nod at her and reach for the holy symbol you forged under Lord Methrenton's inspiration. It gleams with the ruddy cast of that damnable Star, the Lovers' Star, the Burning Star. "One last look at you," she murmurs, adjusting your breastplate so that it is straight. You inhale and exhale fluidly, your hand knocking back hers, gently. "It's time," you say, and you both step out to meet your sisters.

Each one of them greet you, the ones who remain. Milva, Yanath, Zaura, Eeloth, Nertho. Nakita rode with Turele, to survey the fields of Celestia and to set up the forward camps. You are missing one: Anitascha. Your thoughts grow hazy and dark, watching how that soldier's dagger pierced through her mail, into the soft, hidden centre of her stomach. You still feel her blood slick against your palms as you tried to staunch the bleeding. You hear her gurgled attempts to sing the hymns to Methrenton.

You banish that moment from your mind. Your handmaidens, your sisters, continue to look at you, watching, waiting for a sign. It is then that you feel a hand upon your shoulder. It is Yanath. "We know. We miss her, too."

With a grave nod, you take a step toward the door and turn on your heel in a swift spin. "We are still grieving," you call out, your voice strained and tired. "But we must dry our eyes for now, my sisters. The Army of Love has advanced to Celestia, and if we are to ensure that no more of our loved ones fall, we must end this terrible, terrible war." The krokani amongst them turn their gaze downcast, and the merians' faces pale grimly. Only set Milva continues to look at you, her singular eye focused and sharp.

You know not what else to say. Despite being trained by Holy Father Ladantine in all the arts of persuasion and evangelism, the words feel false. Unreal. Voice may waken one to the Light, but now, in your darkest days, there is only silence. All you can do is stare back at Milva, Anitascha's kin, searching for words as you search for something in her watchful expression. Were you afraid?

As you breathe in and exhale, you search for that fire that once roiled beneath your breast, that last vestige of hope secreted away. "We are the Light's, the Empire's, last chance, my sisters, my champions. Though we suffered greatly, ours is a campaign that seeks to cleanse not just the terrors of this world, but our own hearts. The Light shall always prevail, and so it shall be with us." Their gazes draw themselves back to you. Milva nods slowly, agreeing.

"I do not know if we will survive this day, but Light willing, we will give ourselves wholly to this sacred charge!" you cry out, and then you march with them to the Pool of Stars. Each of your sisters practices what you taught them, the methods of traversing the planes, entering into the sacred waters and disappearing in a bright effusion of bubbles.

Only Milva remains beside you, pulling at your arm. "A sacred charge, hmm?" she questions, her eye wet with tears. You behold her: sheathed in mail, hands tight around a pair of maces you had given her on her birthday, days after the first battle with the Army of Love. "Perhaps that was too grandiose?" you offer. "You seemed quite stern so I needed something equally stern." She sniffles and a slight, wry grin curls upon her lips. "Too grandiose. It would be better if you just said something closer to home."
Wait timer expired.

You agree. "For Anitascha then?" She pauses. "For Anitascha, then." And you both plunge into the Pool, traversing stars and aetherways to the holy realm.

---> back to me!

Gently pressing three fingers to your brow, then drawing them to rest upon your heart, you intone, "As above, so below." As the words leave your lips, a bright aura suffuses you with a calm, soothing white light that fills you with a sense of inner peace.