“‘From out of darkness hope shall arise,’” Player recited when they exited the shadows, a line from an Arethian Resurgence-era comedy the name of which Pilgrim couldn’t remember. The walkway came to a halt only a few yards on in a T-shaped junction, one path leading right, the other left. Once again, Ultrean symbols had been carved at the start of both.

“A moment,” Priest said, moving to examine the inscriptions.

“This is not a good place to loiter,” Seeker said. She still had an arrow nocked to her bow and her eyes roved constantly over the surrounding patchwork of light and shade.

“Just…” Priest waved a hand, his brows knitted in consternation as he moved from one symbol to another. “Just one moment.”

Feeling the sword start to thrum Pilgrim watched him pace back and forth twice more before moving to his side. “What’s the delay?”

“Thandril,” Priest said, pointing to the now-familiar symbol set into the inscription on the right. “Also,” he pointed to the carving on the left, “Thandril. All the surviving scripture is clear, to achieve the Crescent, one must follow Thandril’s path. He being the first supplicant, the first to have his prayer answered by the Absolved.”

“It could mean both paths are valid,” Book suggested, moving closer but staying clear of Pilgrim’s reach.

“No.” Priest shook his head. “No. Only one will take us to the Crescent.”

“We can’t stay here!” Seeker stated loudly as Chena let out a warning growl. Both stood facing the confluence of shadows they had emerged from moments before, the beast charmer’s bow half drawn.

Book gave an exasperated sigh and hurried to inspect both inscriptions. “An even more archaic form of Ultrean than I’m familiar with,” he mused, running unsteady fingers through his beard. “With Lysian influences if I’m not mistaken.”

“Is this relevant?” Pilgrim snapped. The sword’s thrum was constant now, accompanied by an impatient tuneless hum from the voice.

“They aren’t identical.” Book pointed at the left-hand inscription. “The translation may be rough, but I believe it says ‘Lo Thandril, stride towards thine eternal love.’ Whilst this one,” his finger jabbed to the right, “reads ‘Thandril, dost thou not know to crawl in thine contrition?’”

“Stop jabbering and choose!” Seeker grated, eyes still locked on the shadows. Following her gaze, Pilgrim saw no sign of movement, nor any sound that might indicate another presence. Nevertheless, the sword left no doubts regarding her judgement.

“It has to mean something,” Priest said. “Choose the wrong path and we could wander here for days.”

“We won’t have days,” Seeker said. “Nor do we have minutes.”

“Is it not obvious?” Player said. He turned to address the Priest with one hand on his hip as he casually gestured with the other. “Supplication. This is the Supplicants’ Path. A supplicant would crawl, would he not?”