In the aftermath of the celebration in Hearthstone Plaza, the air still carried the faint scent of burning embers, the crowded city center was filled with joyous merriment from the burning. The green flames that danced in the pyre were a symbol of Heirlon’s blessing, a confirmation that his will had been done this day. Sister Isadora moved gracefully through the streets of Silverbrook, her serene presence comforting the revelers who had partaken in the festivities.
As the fires had burned for hours, many had come to witness the cleansing blaze, a purification of the land from the poison of magic. Sister Isadora had blessed as many onlookers as she could, whispering words of encouragement and hope as they rejoiced into the night. But amidst the joyous crowd, she noticed a sobbing young girl, clutching a scorched and blackened pile ash in her trembling hands.
The girl’s cries of despair pierced the night air, her grief overwhelming. Many onlookers seemed to ignore the child’s wails, but not the Sister. Sister Isadora approached the distraught child with gentle steps, her heart heavy with sympathy. “Little one, why do you weep?” she asked, her voice like a soothing melody.
The girl looked up, her eyes swollen and red from endless tears. “My Mama… She was in the fire,” she choked out between sobs.
Understanding the depth of the child’s sorrow, Sister Isadora kneeled beside her, wrapping her arms around the girl as she wailed in despair. “Oh, my dear,” she murmured, “I know it hurts, but sometimes, even things we love can be tainted by darkness. The flames had to take it away to save us all. You wouldn’t want to hurt all the nice people here?” She asked gesturing the the crowds swirling around them.
The young girl’s cries intensified, her grief pouring out like a torrential storm. “But I miss my Papa. They took him away because he didn’t want them to burn her. He wanted us all to go back home,” she cried.
Sister Isadora’s heart ached for the child, and she held her even closer, offering comfort and solace. “Your father loves you dearly little one,” she said, “but sometimes, we don’t understand the reasons behind the choices others make. He didn’t know that even the things we cherish can carry danger. He loved your Mama so much he couldn’t see the truth.”
With every word, the girl’s sobs became softer, but her sadness remained. Sister Isadora continued to speak words of gentle wisdom, “The gods watch over us, and they know what’s best for us, even when we can’t see it. Your Mama had to be burned to protect us all from the darkness that lingers in magic.”
As the night wore on, the young girl’s tears slowly subsided. Sister Isadora held her close, offering her unwavering support and love. “Come,” she said, her voice tender, “let me take you back to the temple. There, we will help you understand and find peace in the arms of the 6 gods.”
With the young girl’s tears now replaced by a glimmer of hope, Sister Isadora took her back to the sacred grounds of the Temple of the Six. As they walked hand in hand, the compassionate healer gently explained the importance of devotion to the gods and how seeking solace in their teachings would bring her comfort and understanding in times of sorrow. The temple would became a sanctuary for the girl, where the caring clergy could embraced her as family, guiding her through the ways of the 6 gods.
Deep within, Sister Isadora couldn’t shake a lingering concern. She knew the significance of the mother’s magic. “The Folly tends to run in a family,” she thought to herself as she stared at the young child holding her hand. Sister Isadora resolved to keep a watchful eye on her, recognizing the need for vigilant guidance as she grew into her faith. The Temple of the Six would be her sanctuary, a place of love and wisdom, where she would find her way through the divine teachings and the gentle presence of Sister Isadora, her steadfast guardian and spiritual guide.