The Heartwood dreams of the future

periane’s ears turned toward her gently, like petals lifting to light. the priestess was quiet, for a long time. not out of uncertainty—no. she felt no doubt. only awe.
her voice, when it came, was soft but unwavering. it means He chose you.
a pause, as her pale eyes searched hemera’s, searching the hollows and heights of her face with the reverence one reserved for relics.
the Lord does not show his hand without intent, she murmured, breath curling in the space between them. He sent you a vision not to wander, but to follow. you were not given that mountain to admire—it was lit so you would climb it.
her tail curled neatly at her side, posture bowed slightly—not submissive, but open, welcoming. it is His will, hemera. through you.
her gaze lifted again. clear. full of grace. and i will follow you. to its peak, to the cold, to wherever He asks. you were anointed in that light. there is no greater purpose.
a breath. a hush of snow brushing past their feet.