In answer, his niece reached for the sword that lay across his lap. She lifted it by the hilt and held it before her face. The finely polished steel shone in the lamplight, but it didn’t glow with faithful energy the way a paladin’s should.

“I will be a soldier, like any other,” she said. “Not a paladin of Lycaena. I’m sorry, Uncle. I’m not doing this for her, or for Endarius. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for my family, and my friends, and everyone else the Everlorn Empire has trampled. I hope… I hope that will be enough.”

“Though your skills may be rusty, I would still put your swordplay above many an imperial soldier. You are offering yourself, Keles. It is enough. It will always be enough.” He gestured to the little altar to Lycaena he had removed from his closet. “I know the path you walk is no longer my own, but would you join me in prayer nonetheless? Even if only for tonight, as a way to humor an old man?”

“This may sound terribly rude, but I do not understand the point.”

“Do you speak to your parents sometimes, when you’re alone, your heart is hurting, and the memories won’t let you sleep?”

“I do,” Keles said. “But I don’t expect my parents to speak back. You would have me pray to a slain goddess. Why should I expect an answer to those prayers?”

“What does death even mean to a god?” Rayan asked. “I do not know that answer, Keles. I do not pretend to have that wisdom. But I believe in her, and I hold faith that she remains, perhaps no longer here on this world, but in the evergreen fields beyond. I believe your parents are with her, as is my wife. And though our goddess has fallen, she yet lives on in our hearts, and in our memories. It is through both she empowers us.”

He reached out and took his sword from her grasp. Faint light shimmered across the steel.

“I do not know if she listens,” he said. “But I hold faith that she does. The Butterfly may be dead, but the moth remains.”

Keles’s eyes watered from the light of the sword. She stepped back and retrieved the scarf from her pocket so she might wrap it about her head.

“I cannot do it again,” she whispered. “Do not ask me to do it again. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed, and for it, I watched my parents swing from the Dead Flags. I watched the Anointed One’s dagger pierce our goddess’s breast. I will not pray again, not until I see Lycaena spread her wings before me. With all of Thanet as my witness, I forsook my faith, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I spoke no lie.”