It was after the harrowing mission in Rachel, Nevada, and our narrow escape from the local authorities that began weighing heavy on my mind. That confrontation with the police had been rather unsettling; it seemed to be a sobering reminder that even with victory in our grasp, the nature of our position is very fragile. I returned to the order's stronghold deep in the Scottish Highlands, where I would seek solace in the quiet shadows of the sanctuary that seems so familiar now.

I spent time reading some books on the science of manipulation and intimidation to hopefully avoid such encounters more easily in the future. After hours of relentless training, exhausted but focused, I went to the heart of the lair where the sacred flame was which had long been extinguished since my father's death. I could hardly believe it, a faint but bright ember was glowing.

Nicneven, the Goddess to whom I pledged my life, spoke. Her voice was soft yet powerful, a whisper that travelled like the wind, piercing my mind.

C̸E̶D̷R̸I̶C̴,̶ ̸T̶H̸O̵U̷ ̶H̷A̵S̶T̶ ̸P̴R̴O̸V̶E̵N̶ ̷T̴H̸Y̴ ̴S̷T̸R̷E̸N̴G̶T̶H̵ ̸A̴N̴D̷ ̸D̴E̴V̶O̶T̶I̶O̵N̷.̵ ̶T̴H̸E̷ ̵F̶L̵A̶M̷E̵ ̸W̶I̵T̶H̴I̵N̸ ̶T̶H̷E̶E̷ ̴I̶S̶ ̷S̵T̷E̴A̶D̵F̷A̴S̷T̴,̴ ̶Y̴E̶T̷ ̸T̷H̵E̶R̶E̶ ̶I̶S̴ ̵M̵O̷R̵E̴ ̸T̷O̸ ̷U̷N̴C̸O̵V̶E̵R̵,̷ ̶M̷O̸R̷E̴ ̷P̷O̴W̸E̴R̸ ̴T̷O̷ ̷G̶R̵A̷S̴P̵.̷ ̷T̷H̷O̷U̴ ̵A̵R̸T̶ ̶R̴E̴A̷D̶Y̵ ̵T̸O̶ ̸A̵S̶C̴E̷N̸D̵ ̵T̵O̶ ̷A̴ ̸H̶I̷G̸H̴E̴R̶ ̸R̴E̵A̷L̷M̵ ̸O̸F̶ ̴M̴A̵S̸T̵E̶R̴Y̶.̶

G̴A̷T̵H̶E̴R̷ ̴M̵O̸R̵E̶ ̴O̴F̸ ̷T̸H̸Y̴ ̸B̶R̵E̸T̴H̵E̴R̸I̵N̵,̵ ̶S̶C̶A̴T̸T̸E̵R̸E̸D̴ ̵A̵M̶O̵N̵G̴S̸T̶ ̵T̵H̶E̵ ̶A̴S̵H̸E̷S̸.̷

The words had me in wonder, feeling a sense of my purpose. As she spoke, warmth surged through me, all-encompassing. The ember in the sacred flame came to life, and I felt its power bonding with mine, a power beyond the flesh. The warmth came to concentrate on my back, growing hotter until it threatened to be too much to endure, and then, as if answering my expectation with surprising suddenness, I felt them, wings pure and living fire unfolding from my back.

I told her I would not fail her.