Chapter Seven

Anew

When Shanoa opened her eyes she was overcome by a sense of calm that contradicted the intensity of her dream. It was quite a shift from the tumultuous emotions that hounded her as of late. She was, at least, relieved to have some respite from her internal conflicts. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes again as she took solace in this newfound peace.

She did not fall back asleep as she marveled at the stillness of her surroundings. Long rays of warm sunlight bathed her face and she heard the soft breathing of someone next to her.

Next to me?

Shanoa rolled over towards the source of the sound. She opened her eyelids a crack and spied a limp hand resting on the mattress near her head. The warrior looked up and saw Laura leaning back against the headboard in a light slumber. She had grabbed a book to read before she settled into bed with Shanoa, but it lay open in Laura's lap as if she had fallen asleep in the midst of reading a sentence.

She didn't leave.

Shanoa did not care for the feeling of surprise that accompanied the thought. She shook herself free of the negativity that it provoked and she stretched her arms above her head as she sat up. The angle of the sunlight that streamed through the windows indicated that it was late in the afternoon. She surmised that the morning's events must have taken a bigger toll on the two women than either of them had initially realized. The warrior rubbed her eyes and turned to get a better look at her sleeping friend.

Laura's head was tilted to the side; her neck slightly inclined towards Shanoa. The rays of sunlight illuminated the jeweler's face with a soft glow and gleamed in the strands of her dark curly hair. As Shanoa stared a singular thought made its way to the forefront of her mind.

She's beautiful.

Something deep within the warrior shifted and – for the first time – she realized how all-encompassing that description was. Laura was physically beautiful, there was no denying that fact, but there was more to it than her outward appearance. The jeweler possessed a heart that burned with unwavering conviction and a kind of strength that Shanoa had, before now, only observed in Albus.

Shanoa was a hardened warrior. She prevailed in combat with ease, but she lacked personal conviction. Her spirit was as delicate and fragile as glass, and in battles of the heart it broke easily. Shanoa had never been strong on her own. She never needed to be before now. Her whole life had been dictated by Barlowe and Ecclesia. Her decision to stand against Dracula had been her one independent act, and even that had been driven by the purpose that was imbued within her the day the idol carved markings into her flesh.

"Here I am... It's all gone. ...What little I had, anyway. No, that's not true, there's one thing left... ...My mission. I'm the only one left who can end this. Hear me, Dracula! I am the morning sun, come to vanquish this horrible night!"

Shanoa had not become the morning sun by her own command, but Laura…

She reached out to caress the jeweler's face, but Shanoa caught herself before she could make contact. Her hand trembled in the air as a strange feeling washed over her.

I want… something…

What did she want? Something clawed within her now; something awakened by the realization that, in every sense of the word, this woman was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. A sudden wish for something unidentifiable that rested in the tips of her fingers as they reached out to close the distance between them.

A wish for what?

Shanoa drew her hand back as the jeweler's eyelids fluttered. After a few moments Laura stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at Shanoa as her vision focused.

"I guess we were both tired," Laura said in an amused tone. Shanoa simply nodded in response. The jeweler studied her friend's perplexed expression. "Is something wrong?"

"I had a… troubling dream." It was not a lie, but neither was it the cause of Shanoa's confusion. The warrior's intuition told her to keep the realization a secret. While she was too embarrassed to admit the extent of her admiration it would also be strange for her to fawn over another woman's beauty. "Though I suppose it would be inaccurate to call it a dream. In actuality it was more like reliving an old memory."

"Tell me about it."

Shanoa recounted the ritual for her friend. It had been just over eight years since her trial, but ghosts of searing pain prickled in Shanoa's flesh as she spoke of it. When she finished the jeweler's eyes glistened with newfound understanding.

"I've always wondered about those tattoos of yours," Laura said. She reached out and traced the marks on Shanoa's left bicep with her fingers. Her touch set the warrior on edge for some reason. Was she so averse to physical contact that something so simple could unnerve her?

"They're just ordinary markings now." Shanoa did not attempt to hide the bitterness in her tone. The harsh bite of her words was accented by the anger that roiled in her gut. "I can't summon Glyphs anymore. I haven't been able to since that night the castle crumbled." The warrior grimaced. "And I can't help but think that they're related. That all of these things are connected: Dracula's castle, Glyphs, the idol, and my tattoos. The idol that imprisoned Dracula gave me an innate understanding of Glyphs; supposedly with the intention that I would gain the ability to wield Dominus and destroy the idol. If that truly was the reason why… perhaps the source of that crimson light was Dracula himself. Perhaps he was able to reach through the idol and mark me as a kind of sacrifice or martyr or whatever the hell Barlowe would see fit to call it."

Shanoa ground her teeth. "What if that's why I can't summon Glyphs anymore? What if, once I destroyed Dracula, I destroyed the force that gave Glyphs their power? What if Dracula was the one who created me; the one who made me Ecclesia's Blade?" Silence engulfed them as Shanoa fumed. She had already given up so much, and if she had to disown all that she'd accomplished because her actions were tainted by Dracula's influence…

"You said that the idol was a prison that housed the Dark Lord." Laura approached the volatile subject with a cautious voice. "If that's true, then how could it have been possible for Dracula to breach the seal?"

"What do you mean?"

"A prison that allows its captive to reach beyond its walls is not a very good prison. If Dracula could already breach the seal then there would have been no need for Barlowe or Dominus. He could have escaped on his own." The warrior's brow knit in confusion.

"If that's the case, then what was that crimson light?"

"The idol must have been constructed of immensely strong, holy magic if it was able to keep Dracula himself at bay," Laura said with a nod. "Perhaps the light was an extension of whatever righteous force that enacted the barrier? Perhaps that was the force that gave you the ability to comprehend Glyphs, not the Dark Lord." Shanoa's eyes widened as she considered this new possibility.

"I've never thought of it that way." She closed her eyes and willed herself to remember the nature of Glyphs; how it felt to summon them and wield their might. It was a bit difficult now that she was cut off from their power, but the knowledge came. "Dominus did not act in the same manner as other Glyphs. The fragments were leeches. They sapped the life force from the user, and I avoided calling upon them at all costs. Every other Glyph I've used just required the aid of mana; the same as any other form of magic." Hope blossomed inside of Shanoa. "Dominus was derived from Dracula, and thus it sought to destroy everything it touched. If all Glyphs originated from the Dark Lord's power, then it's likely that they would behave in the same manner, yet they don't."

"So then there must be a different explanation as to why you can't use Glyphs anymore." Laura gave her a reassuring smile. "What else do you know about them?"

"I just know the bare basics of what Glyphs are." Shanoa shook her head with a sigh. "My training was focused on how to use them, not on understanding the knowledge contained within. Barlowe did his best to ensure that I would be an effective, unquestioning weapon." Laura's gaze drifted down to Shanoa's abdomen.

"Perhaps that brand has something to do with it." Shanoa hissed at the reminder and clutched her stomach. She had almost forgotten about the marks left by Blackmore.

"That is a distinct possibility." Her grip tightened as she pondered the thought.

"Does it hurt?" the jeweler asked in concern.

"No, but the brand is a clear reminder of what happened inside the castle, and it's something I'll be glad to be rid of."

"I told you about my mother's talents." There was some apprehension in Laura's tone. "I know that she has the skill to remove the brand, but she lives quite a distance from here."

"How far?"

"The journey will take almost a week, which is why I hesitated to approach the subject earlier. I didn't want to suggest that you leave Wygol in such a fragile emotional state, but after what happened this morning." Laura smiled. "I think things are different. It takes more than a few days for someone to grieve, but I'd say you're off to a damn good start."

Shanoa stared at her in silence for a moment before she lunged forward and squeezed Laura in a tight embrace. The warrior could not explain why she did it; just that she knew that she had to. Laura yelped a little in surprise, but did not hesitate to return the gesture.

"I can't possibly hope to thank you for everything you've done," Shanoa whispered. Laura briefly caressed Shanoa's back.

"You don't have to." Her voice was laden with an emotion that Shanoa could not identify. Shanoa drew back and Laura gasped when she saw the expression on the warrior's face. "Shanoa, you're smiling!"

That peaceful calm had returned. Shanoa was not yet free of Ecclesia's lasting influence, but there had been a giant shift on the battlefield. Shanoa did not have to fight this war alone. Her face glowed as she smiled beyond her ability to control.

"I know." She chuckled at herself. "I just… I know."

IXI

The two women had changed into clean dresses and descended to the kitchen to eat some dinner when they heard a pair of excited voices outside the house. Laura had already started towards the back door to investigate by the time they got around to knocking. The jeweler opened the door and was greeted with the smiling faces of Serge and Anna. Tom was also present, the cat once again curled up in the girl's arms.

"Laura! You've got to come and see!" Serge was so giddy he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he spoke. "Monica's boyfriend came to visit and he brought some people with him!"

"He's not her boyfriend," Anna said. Tom mewed in agreement.

"Of course he's her boyfriend!" Serge rolled his eyes.

"And just how do you know that?" the girl asked. "I haven't seen them kiss or anything."

"He doesn't have to kiss her in order to be her boyfriend." Serge patted his younger sister on the head. "I'd explain it to you, but it's complicated grown-up stuff. You're not old enough to understand."

"I am too!" Anna stomped her foot with an indignant huff.

"Hold it you two!" Laura interrupted the siblings before their banter escalated into full-scale bickering. "I think I've missed something important. What's going on and why are you so excited about it?"

"That man – the merchant who brings Monica her fabric – is back in the village and he brought a group of people with him!" Serge gave Laura a wide, toothy grin. "He says that they're actors and they're going to put on a play for us! Our job is very important because we're going around town to tell everyone about it."

"You should come watch the play with us!" Anna nodded. "Shanoa should come too! We want everyone to be there!" The warrior had crept up behind her friend and peered around Laura at the siblings. Anna smiled and waved at her as she came into the girl's line of sight. Shanoa blushed, but waved back. For some reason it made her feel fidgety and awkward to be around the two children. She could not determine if this was her natural response to kids. Since she had been one of the youngest members of Ecclesia her interaction with children was almost non-existent.

"How about it, Shanoa?" Laura turned to face the warrior. Her expression was one of caution. "I know it's been a long day, so if you want to stay home then I won't object." Shanoa looked down at Serge and Anna and found herself enrapt by the genuine excitement splayed across their faces. It was rather contagious.

"It sounds like fun. I'd love to go," Shanoa said with a smile. The siblings beamed up at her.

"You're going to love it! The actors said they're going to be performing all sorts of funny things!" Serge grabbed Shanoa's hand and tugged on it. The warrior gulped, but she let him drag her out from behind Laura and through the open doorway.

"Anecdote," Anna said. Serge gave her a confused look.

"What?"

"They said something about 'anecdotes'." Her pronunciation of the word was skewed due to her lack of familiarity with it. Her brother simply became more confused.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Anna shrugged. "I heard one of the actors say it when they were talking to mom about what the play was going to be."

"It probably means that the actors are going to perform various scenes from different plays rather than one play in its entirety," Laura said as she stepped out onto the street. The jeweler closed and locked the back door behind her. "Where are we going?"

"Everyone's in the village square," Anna said. "Well, everyone except Daniela and Eugen. Daniela was already asleep and Eugen just grunted something about not being the 'theater-going type'."

"Come on!" Serge yanked on Shanoa's arm again and she stumbled forward as the boy began to march down the street. "I don't want them to start without us!"

"Careful, Serge! You could hurt her if you pull too hard!" Anna shouted after him.

"That's silly, Anna, she's a hero! I couldn't hurt her even if I tried!" Shanoa blushed as Serge turned and tried to get her to run with him. Her heart swelled at the sight. He is rather adorable, she admitted to herself and acquiesced to his wishes. Shanoa lifted up the front of her blue dress with her free hand and she quickened her pace until she jogged alongside the boy.

"I know you're faster than this." Her tease earned the warrior a devilish grin from the eager boy. Serge broke out into a sprint with Shanoa fast on his heels. He kept a hand wrapped around her wrist as they left Anna and Laura behind and bolted towards the center of Wygol.

The late afternoon sun had begun to set and cast long shadows in front of the pair upon the cobblestone streets. Serge was full of boyish energy, but it could not compare to her sheer stamina. Shanoa matched his pace with ease. The pair skidded to a halt when they reached their destination. Serge panted as Shanoa looked about the square. The warrior, however, was unfazed by the short sprint.

All of the roads in Wygol (which there were, admittedly, few of) converged in the center of town to form a large open space that the inhabitants had transformed into a public square. They had cleared away the cobblestones and planted four strips of grass that formed a rectangle in the middle of the intersection. A tree had been planted in each of the four corners and wooden benches were lined up against the grass. A large street lamp was erected in the middle of the square to illuminate the surrounding area at night.

The villagers had organized the layout into a sort of makeshift outdoor theater. The benches were rearranged into two perpendicular rows that faced what would serve as the stage. Someone had cast an illumination spell and a ball of white light hovered above the impromptu stage in preparation for the encroaching nightfall.

True to the children's word, most of the inhabitants of Wygol milled about the square. Aeon was showing the contents of a large brown box to Jacob and Irina. Monica stood next to a tall, blonde-haired man who had his back to Shanoa as he conversed with three strangers she didn't recognize. The warrior assumed that they were the visiting actors. George sat in a chair next to the stage and fiddled with the strings of his violin.

Abram was perched on the edge of one of the benches as a stern Father Nikolai leered over him. The healer's leg bounced up and down as his elder spoke. Marcel stood off to the side and leaned against one of the nearby trees with a lit cigarette in his hand. The reporter caught Shanoa's eye and inclined his head towards her in acknowledgement.

"Shanoa!" She turned and saw Father Nikolai approach her with his arms outstretched. His business with Abram appeared to be concluded. She looked past Nikolai to glance at the healer. Abram's head was bowed and his leg bounced faster than before. "It's wonderful to see you again." Shanoa's eyes flicked back to the priest as he drew near.

"It's been a while, Father," she said in a polite tone. Her interaction with Nikolai was limited and what little she had seen of the aging priest was a man frantic with concern over the safety of his flock. This was the first time that she had seen Nikolai in a worry-free state, though she wondered what exactly he had been discussing with Abram.

"I received word of your return a few days ago, but alas I have not had the opportunity to call. I've been rather busy studying the effects of the evil that stemmed from that strange castle." He shook his head. "That wicked bastion may be gone, yet that does not guarantee the disappearance of our recent plague of monsters. Ah, but I digress, my concerns are my own. I wanted to give you something." Nikolai took Shanoa's hand and placed something cool in her palm. She looked down at the object: it was an old silver ring set with an orange gemstone. The stone was flanked on either side by small wings made of the same silver as the band.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"I want to impart my heartfelt thanks." Nikolai gave her a warm smile. "Look around you, Shanoa. It's a marvelous sight to behold. You saved these people's lives, and now you've restored their peace of mind. This village is healing before our eyes. You are truly a gift from above; a saint if ever there was one. I don't have much to offer in way of gratitude, but please accept this. It is a ring that has been passed down through my family."

"I can't take something so personal-" Shanoa began to object, but Nikolai held up his hand.

"The ring is an enchanted one. It emits certain properties when worn in battle. In effect it strengthens the warrior who bears it. I am, by nature, a peaceful man. My ancestors may have been fighters, but I do not take part in war. That is not my role. I have little use for such a trinket and, in the end, I believe that the man who gave it to me would rather see the ring in the hands of one who needs it." Shanoa nodded and slipped the ring onto her finger. Nikolai chuckled as the silver caught a ray of yellow sunlight and the wings were bathed in a fiery glow. "See, it's been waiting for you for years."

"Father!" Monica called out from across the square. Nikolai sighed and clasped Shanoa's hand.

"It appears that I am needed. If you ever require guidance or spiritual aide do not hesitate to call upon me." He gave her one last smile before he turned to help yet another member of his flock. "Yes, my child, I am coming…"

Shanoa stared after the priest. She decided that she rather liked this new side of him.

"A ring? That's it?" Serge's voice startled Shanoa and she realized that the boy had been standing next to her throughout the entire exchange. "That's a crummy present if you ask me. He should have given you a sword or something useful like that."

"Rings can be useful too." Shanoa frowned at him. Serge stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"Yeah, useful for girls maybe."

"A ring? Can I see it?" Anna bounded up to them as she and Laura finally caught up to the pair. Serge rolled his eyes at his sister as she studied the new jewelry on Shanoa's finger. "It's really pretty! The stone looks like the one on Tom's collar." The cat in question meowed and lifted his chin to show off the enchanted collar that Laura had made for him. A small smile touched Shanoa's lips as she reached out and scratched Tom behind the ears.

"Oh shit," Laura said under her breath as she spotted something behind the warrior. Shanoa raised an eyebrow at her friend and turned to see what had her in such a fuss. She paused as the reason for Laura's discomfort became clear: Irina lumbered towards the group with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her face was cut by deep creases that made evident the baker's disapproval.

"Where have you two been?" she asked as she eyed her children.

"We've been letting everyone know that they should come see the actors, momma." Anna was the first to respond. "It's just like we told you."

"Yeah, we weren't gone very long," Serge said.

"It was still too long! Here I was all worried that you two wouldn't be back before sundown, and with all the monsters that have been running about God only knows what could happen to you after dark!" The distressed mother shivered. "I was about to ask Marcel to go look for you."

"They were with us the entire time," Laura said. Irina scoffed and shook her head.

"Well, they at least had one trustworthy adult watching over them." Laura clenched her jaw in silent rage at her words. Shanoa was dumbfounded by the blatant hostility of the exchange. Irina shifted her attention to the warrior. "The children told me you'd come back, and not a moment too soon, I might add! As if the werewolves weren't bad enough I've now been plagued by banshee screams. Father Nikolai assures me that the monsters have vanished, but I swear I can still hear those harpies screeching at night. I can't get a wink of sleep. You've been such a dear in the past, what with getting rid of those pesky wolves, and I thought that this time you-"

"I'm sorry." Shanoa held up her arms to show the baker her stitches. "But I'm not exactly battle ready at the moment."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Irina gingerly touched the warrior's arm. "You know, if you're ever looking for a place to stay there's always room for you at our house. Plus, as you are well aware, I am an excellent baker. I can sate your appetite much better than most people in this village." The woman sighed and titled her head. "You're so thin. If you just spent a few days under my supervision I could clear that problem right up."

"I think a few days with you would do a hell of a lot of damage and no good at all," Laura muttered. Irina shot the jeweler an icy glare and held out her arms to her children.

"Anna, Serge, let's go find a good place for us to sit. Heaven knows that some vile gypsy might just snatch you up from right under my nose." The siblings were delighted by her suggestion and ran past their mother to claim a spot on the benches closest to the stage. Irina gasped and spun around to chase after her children. Shanoa stared wide-eyed at the baker as she staggered away.

"… What just happened?" The warrior's mind reeled from the encounter.

"Irina happened." Laura's nostrils flared as she fumed. "I have no idea how those children are so sweet when their mother is so wicked. 'Vile gypsy'! I swear to God one of these days I'm going to smack her right across the face."

"That might do more harm than good. It would just affirm her suspicions about you."

"I suppose you're right." Laura sighed in defeat. "It just infuriates me to know that she's filling their heads with lies. Not just about me, but about people in general."

"They're smart kids. They know that most of what she says is false. If they believed every word that came out of their mother's mouth they wouldn't adore you so." Laura chuckled and smiled at the warrior.

"You weren't so bad with them yourself."

"Really?" Shanoa balked at her friend.

"Of course! Serge doesn't have anyone to play with besides Anna, and she's not quite so energetic. I thought it was wonderful how you indulged him – if only briefly. It's nice that he found someone else who can keep up with him." That warrior's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

"I just haven't spent much time around children. I'm not always sure how I should act towards them."

"I've learned that the key thing to remember about kids is that they want to be treated like what they say and feel matters." Laura's fond smile grew wider. "It gets a lot easier when you keep that in mind. Children are humans too, after all. They're not some strange entities from another dimension."

"Monsters would be less cumbersome to deal with," the warrior said with a slight shake of her head, yet a hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. "You don't have to worry about their feelings."

"That's right; I forgot who I was talking to for a second." Laura laughed. They fell into a comfortable silence and Shanoa's gaze wandered about the square. The sun had almost retreated behind the horizon at this point, but the illumination spell cast enough white light to render it a non-issue. Shanoa's eyes found their way back to Monica and her tall companion. The pair was still wrapped up in their conversation with Father Nikolai.

"Who is that man standing next to Monica?" Shanoa asked.

"That's the one and only Timothy." Laura tugged on her friend's arm. "We should go over and introduce ourselves, or at least you should. Monica mumbled something the other day about wanting him to meet you." Shanoa hesitated at the suggestion.

"Yes…"

"Hey, you've done a wonderful job socializing with people so far," Laura said in an optimistic tone. The warrior paused and thought back to the myriad of rather torrid conversations she'd had in recent days.

"You're right," Shanoa said with a bit of confidence. Laura beamed as the warrior lifted her chin and started off towards the pair without any further encouragement. The jeweler followed close behind. They got about halfway across the plaza before they were intercepted once again, this time by Aeon. The chef smiled up at them and held out the paper box.

"Ladies, may I interest you in some free samples of my latest creation?" he asked in his typical jolly manner. Shanoa's expression remained rigidly stoic, but Laura couldn't suppress a slight grimace.

"Um…" the jeweler said with a healthy amount of hesitation.

"Oh, you're concerned about the quality!" Aeon chortled. "There's no cause for alarm, I assure you. This dish is nothing short of delectable!" His encouragement did not assuage Shanoa's concerns.

"I mean…"

"Well, you've said that in the past." Laura had more success in voicing their collective misgivings.

"Ah yes, yes I have." The chef nodded in understanding and indicated to Shanoa. "But that was before this wonderful woman here enlightened me about the true essence of flavor! A rather unsavory experience a few years back had led me to believe that sampling my dishes was terrible for my constitution. I see now that I was mistaken, and recently have made it a habit to test the flavor of my creations as I cook. My skills as a master chef have improved by leaps and bounds as a result. So please, try one of these sandwiches. I promise that you won't be disappointed."

The two women peered into the box at the food in question. The sandwiches appeared to be rather simple: a bun filled with meat and cheese. It left little room for failure, but they remained apprehensive.

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Laura said in defeat and picked up one of the sandwiches. Shanoa followed in turn. The women held the sandwiches up to their mouths in nervous anticipation. They shared a quick glance before they simultaneously bit into their food; Laura's eyes widened in surprise as she chewed and swallowed her bite.

"It's… good!" The jeweler gaped at the sandwich in her hand. Shanoa nodded in agreement; her eyes as wide as Laura's. The ingredients were fresh and Aeon had added a homemade mustard sauce to the sandwiches that blended perfectly with the salty taste of the meat.

"What did I tell you? It's a real transformation!" Aeon puffed out his chest with pride. "Once I generate enough word of mouth I'll have the entire village begging me to cook for them. Perhaps I'll even go back into the restaurant business? I could open my own café this time." The lull in his voice made Shanoa worry that the chef would drift off into his daydream, but he perked up as a thought struck him. "I should offer some samples to the actors! Then, once I've gained their favor, they will spread the word of my success outside of Wygol. Sometimes I surprise myself with my own brilliance!" The portly chef looked towards the stage in search of the three strangers. The actors had migrated over to speak with George and Aeon bounded towards the group with an excited fervor that Shanoa had never seen from him. Laura glanced down at her sandwich and shook her head.

"Hell must have frozen over," the jeweler said to herself. Shanoa did not respond as she devoured what remained of her sandwich. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until she'd tasted food. Laura watched the warrior in amusement. "Do you want the rest of mine too?" Shanoa shook her head and brushed the crumbs off her hands.

"No, we should go talk to this Timothy before we get sidetracked again or I lose my courage."

Abram was sitting nearby and Laura paused to give him what was left of her sandwich. He still appeared upset over whatever he and Father Nikolai had discussed and his leg continued to bounce up and down. The healer nodded in thanks and took the sandwich without a word. Shanoa shot Laura a confused look, but the jeweler only shrugged.

Timothy and Monica were conversing by themselves when the women walked up to them. Father Nikolai had moved on to mingle with the rest of his small flock. Shanoa was at last able to get a good look at Timothy's face. The young merchant was quite tall and fit from his regular travels through the Carpathians. His short blonde hair looked a bit scraggy, as if he had attempted to trim it himself. He was clean shaven and it made apparent the reason why Monica had been able to muster the courage to speak to him in the first place. Timothy's boyish face was round, inviting, and quite unthreatening. His lips were curved in a wide grin as he spoke to the seamstress. Monica appeared equally entranced by the young man; neither of them noticed the two women until Laura cleared her throat.

"Oh!" Monica started at the unexpected noise. She turned and immediately relaxed when she saw who it was.

"I didn't mean to scare you," the jeweler said with an apologetic smile. Monica shook her head.

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's just me. I'm a bit jumpy tonight," she said. Timothy looked like he wanted to console Monica, but couldn't find the right words to do so. He turned to the jeweler instead.

"You're Laura, right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm surprised that you remember my name. We only met in passing."

"I try and make a habit of remembering names." Timothy smiled and looked at Shanoa. "Though I don't believe we've met before." The warrior nodded and extended her hand.

"I'm Shanoa." The young man took her hand and gave it a firm shake.

"My name is Timothy. I usually just pass through Wygol, but all the villagers speak highly of you, and quite often it seems," he said with a smile. "It's a pleasure to finally be able to put a face to the name. I do hope you enjoy the show tonight. As you can see, we've had quite the turnout."

"What inspired you to arrange an event like this, anyway?" Shanoa asked with genuine curiosity. Timothy scratched his neck and chuckled.

"Well, Monica often laments over how easy it is to feel isolated in such a small village and that, aside from the merchants, Wygol is almost devoid of visitors. Her comments reminded me of how I felt when I was a child. I grew up in a town about this size and things were pretty monotonous. It was rare that anything exciting happened. So I figured it'd be nice if someone brought civilization to Wygol for a change; even if it is just for one night."

"You've done a marvelous job," Laura said. "And I'm sure it gives you two an excuse to spend some time together," she added with a wink. The suggestion caused both Monica and Timothy to turn bright shades of red.

"But…" Monica squeaked.

"We're not- I mean… it's not that I don't…" Timothy's mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds as he fumbled over how to respond. "What I'm trying to say is… I do enjoy Monica's company-" The pair absentmindedly glanced at each other. Their eyes locked for a long moment before Monica startled everyone when she leapt towards Shanoa and grabbed the warrior's arm.

"You know, Shanoa used to bring me my materials before… you did," the seamstress said in an attempt to escape the awkward moment.

"Oh, I did not know that." Timothy played along as he tried to discreetly raise a hand to cover his burning cheeks.

Monica took the opening to delve into her account of Shanoa's generosity. The warrior did not have much to add, she would chime in to agree with Monica when prompted, but nothing more. It felt strange to be the recipient of so much undulated praise, yet it was not unwelcome. Shanoa eventually turned to ask Laura a question and was surprised to find her absent. The warrior made a quick scan of the square and saw Laura speaking to Marcel in an empty corner. The journalist had a satisfied grin on his face while Laura was not at all amused.

What are they talking about?

"May I have your attention please!" The trio turned in the direction of Father Nikolai's voice. He stood in the middle of the makeshift stage as he addressed the small crowd. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming this evening. I have been informed that the actors are ready to begin their performance so if everyone could please find a seat we can get started."

Laura made her way back to Shanoa's side. The sour expression on the jeweler's face dissipated once she had put distance between herself and Marcel. Shanoa was about to ask what had upset her friend, but she was distracted by the frantic wave of Serge's hands. The young siblings had claimed one of the benches in the front row and beckoned for the women to join them. Irina was slumped back against the far end of the bench. The baker's head lolled forward a bit and she appeared to have dozed off. The children scooted closer to their mother to make room for Shanoa and Laura.

"I'll sit on the end just in case Irina happens to wake up and has a fit," Laura said as they took the offered seats. Serge glowed with excitement as Shanoa sat down next to him.

"What do you think they're going to perform?" he asked the warrior. Shanoa could only shrug in response.

"I don't know. I haven't seen a lot of plays."

"How come?"

"It was against the rules," Shanoa said solemnly. Any further questions that Serge may have had were interrupted by the sound of George's violin. The three actors bounded onstage to enthusiastic applause. One of them manipulated the ball of light that swirled above their heads to focus its rays upon the stage before they began their performance.

Due to the limited number of performers the actors did not stick to any one play. Instead they hopped between various scenes taken from popular comedies. Before each new scene they provided a brief synopsis of the play up until that point and introduced their characters.

While Shanoa had not seen many plays performed onstage she had read quite a few scripts. Ecclesia, as a general rule, frowned upon the performing arts for unspecified reasons, but the Order's lust for collecting knowledge lent to a huge collection of supposedly "tainted" plays in the fortress' archives. Shanoa had developed a habit of sneaking manuscripts from the library, including these forbidden plays. It was a mischievous tendency that Albus had encouraged, and once she was allowed to venture into the outside world he had made sure to take her to a few theatrical performances in secret.

A staging of Dante's Inferno was the first play she ever saw. It was unlike anything Shanoa had experienced before. She had read the entirety of The Divine Comedy, but it took her breath away to see it come to life onstage. It was one thing to imagine the levels of Hell, yet there they were in front of her: the eternal race, rivers of misery, and the damned trapped forever in ice. For the duration of the performance the text had become reality. Shanoa had been entranced, and in experiencing that feeling she understood why Ecclesia sought to suppress theater's magical effects.

The actors she watched that night put on quite a different show. Instead they played the crowd for laughs. Shanoa had read many of the plays they featured: The School for Scandal, Twelfth Night, and they even performed an excerpt from Lysistrata. Serge and Anna were often confused by the suggestive content of the scenes, but the actors' dramatic expressions humored them in lieu of proper understanding.

As the show continued Shanoa found her attention drawn away from the actors in front of her. Her eyes wandered about the audience; their faces lit up with joy and laughter rang through the air. Knowledge blossomed within the warrior as she watched these familiar faces glow with happiness, and it at last dawned on her just how wrong she'd been.

She was Ecclesia's Blade; a weapon that – despite their intentions – had banished untold evils. She was the morning sun, but neither of those titles defined her. They were both meaningless without the support of actions, and Shanoa finally understood what Laura had been trying to tell her for half a year.

When Shanoa had first stepped foot in Wygol it was empty and barren. Even after she'd freed all the villagers from Albus' prisons there was an echo within the small town, but now it was bursting with life and purpose.

I did this.

Nothing had obligated her to help these people, but even in her apathetic state Shanoa had wished to lend her aide. She saw their empty hearts and she wanted to save them from a unique anguish that she knew all too well.

And Albus…

Albus hadn't loved her just because she was his sister. He had loved her because of who she was at heart. Perhaps he had made it necessary for her to free the villagers in an attempt to rekindle the love that lay dormant inside of her. Because he knew that she could not ignore their silent cries for help.

Shanoa didn't notice that she had begun to cry until Laura placed a hand on her knee.

"Are you all right?" her friend asked. Shanoa nodded as she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks.

"These tears are different," she said with a smile. Laura took one look at that smile and understood.


Additional notes: not much to say about this chapter. I had to make some alterations to maintain the third person subjective style I've used throughout the rest of this story. The original version contained a brief conversation between Marcel and Laura, but I edited it out as we're inside Shanoa's head this chapter and she wouldn't be privy to it. The conversation has been moved to a later chapter, though there have been significant changes. I will point them out at the relevant time.