She had failed in the quest given her by the highest of Vassals.
She groaned as she pulled her broken body out from beneath the fallen log that had been her hiding place. Her party had almost brought her home to Tower Vigilant, before the raiders had struck. They were savage warriors, who bore weapons of blackened steel, and matching steel masks that were the visages of demons beneath their black cowls.
She looked to the graves she’d dug hours ago, for her fallen companions. Her hand slid over her once-shattered knee. It still gave her pain, but fortunately she’d had enough of the Light of Dol Arrah remaining within her to heal her leg. Her broken ribs and splintered wrist would have to wait another day.
Then the song was stirred within her ears.
“Seek the Scarred Man,” the Voice whispered to her softly, in an angel’s song, “He will recover that which was lost.”
“But he follows a path poisoned by those who refuse the natural order now,” she frowned, “How could I trust him not to give in to the powers he serves, and take my charge for himself… or worse, give it to him.”
“He is good in his heart, even though he follows a way older than our own. Those he serves will never value him beyond being a useful tool to accomplish their own ends. He will see the truth, soon enough.”
“He did see to my safety through the Goblin lands, although he is… crude.”
“You are no stranger to the ways of fighting men, Sanne,” the Voice sighed, “He’s no different from most of the men you’ve served with in the Last War. Let that not dissuade you from what must be done, you will need aid. The stars align, the Seals are breaking, and Fernia’s gates prepare to open. Soon, They will be crawling out of the Abyss.”
Sanne nodded slowly, then realized that the Voice had left her again.
She could acquire a horse in Sword Keep, and ride back to New Cyre. She would find him, and beg him to become the hero the Voice said he was born to be.