The Heartwood dreams of the future

together, she affirmed softly, stepping close—closer. the moment hung quiet and sacred between them, broken only by the gentle wind stirring the cloaks at their shoulders. where you walk, i walk.
there are two men, she answered, gaze drifting momentarily to the horizon as if their names were carved into the distance. rhadamanthus... and erebos.
she did not speak their names lightly.
rhadamanthus walks with strength. quiet strength. the kind God favors. his soul holds restraint. grace. she looked back at hemera, thoughtful. he does not speak in tongues, but he listens. deeply. i believe he hears him.
her jaw tensed, only slightly, before continuing.
and erebos— she said the name gently, like invoking an old memory. a man of the dusk. something stirs in him too. he’s... fractured. but so are many of his chosen. he may walk his path, if he lets the Lord fill what’s hollow.
she blinked, slow.
neither are yet disciples. but i believe they will be.