Haunted Wood the maw

periane listened with the stillness of the devout, her expression soft, contemplative, as rhadamanthus spoke. there was something in the way he carried himself—calm, assured, unwavering—that made it easy to follow the cadence of his voice, to believe in the weight of his words.
i do, she answered simply, her voice a melody spun in silk. fate is but the breath of the divine, moving unseen through the world. shaping. calling.
she lifted her gaze to him then, gentle and bright, yet with a depth that suggested understanding beyond mere faith. it is no accident that i stand before you, nor that your brother led me to you. God's hands have guided this moment, as they guide all things.
her smile lingered, reverent yet touched with something knowing. and so i will do as you ask. the lost will find their way by my words, by my devotion. those who seek shall not be turned away.
her steps were unhurried, poised, as she moved beside him. tell me, then—who must we bring into the light first?