‘I have been dreaming,’ I tell her. ‘For the first time since I was a child. The first came to me as I healed, the second as I knelt to pray.’

Anyone else would drown me with devotion, but not Ashava. She remains calm, and kind.

‘What was it you saw?’ she asks.

‘The same thing I saw all that time ago,’ I tell her. ‘A path of ninety-nine aquila-stones that lead to a set of ironclad gates, wrought in Saint Katherine’s likeness.’

‘Do you think you dream this way because of how you arrived at the convents?’

‘It is what led me to the convents,’ I say. ‘As a girl, I thought it a sign, but tonight when I dreamt it again, it had changed.’

‘Changed,’ Ashava says. ‘How?’

‘When I was a child, the dream would always end at the gates,’ I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the tiny eagle and his laurel wreath. ‘But this time, I went beyond them.’

I tell her then about the pedestal and the Shield and about Adelynn, too. I tell her everything save for those three words.

Are you ready?

‘I asked Adelynn to tell me how to find the Shield,’ I say. ‘But she told me that I already have the answer. That I need to trust in myself to find it.’

Ashava smiles absently. ‘I could not tell you the number of times that Adelynn said those words to me.’

I nod, remembering.

‘So do you have it?’ Ashava asks. ‘The answer?’

I shake my head. ‘No. All that I know is all anyone knows. That the Shield will be found where the light began.’

‘The answer will come to you, Eva,’ Ashava says. ‘I am sure of it.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘Because He chose you,’ she says. ‘And because she did, too.’

I smile, then, despite myself. Despite everything. ‘Thank you for listening to me,’ I say to her.

Ashava nods her head. ‘It is as I said. It is what we both need.’

We get to our feet, and step on to the chancel to make our devotions. The altar is a wide slab of white marble, inlaid with gold. Arrayed on it are three candles, surrounded by scraps of oath paper and coins of different metals. Offerings, from souls of every standing.

I pick up the candle lighter, and touch it to the wick of the tallest candle. It catches easily, burning strong. A bright arrow of flame, pointing to the heavens. But I am no longer looking at the candle. I am looking beyond it.

‘The light,’ I say. ‘Where the light began.’

‘What?’ Ashava asks. ‘Eva, what is it?’

I put down the candle lighter and walk around behind the altar and all of the devotions left there to look up at the fresco behind it. The image is almost five times my height, and depicts a number of things. At the top is the God-Emperor in the moment of His Sacrifice, taking his place on the Holy Throne. Beneath it are the martyrs. Alicia Dominica, Lucia, Silvana, Mina, Arabella. Katherine. Those once known as the Daughters of the Emperor. At their backs, Holy Terra. Beneath them, a golden arrow parting the darkness, trailing fire in its wake as it soars towards the Throneworld. I put out my hand, stopping just short of actually touching the fresco, and follow the tail of the arrow down to its origin point. A circle of silver, dulled and cracked from age.