On a pitch-black night, Priscilia stared at the faintly glowing moon, and the presence behind her made her slowly turn around.
A crisp and neatly pressed uniform, the compass at the waist shimmering under the moonlight.
“So, you're a Warden from Pharos.”
Upon hearing Priscilia's words, the Warden slightly nodded and spoke in a low voice.
“Unfortunately.”
The Warden's words made Priscilia's gaze quiver slightly. She had long anticipated this day would come, but the sudden reality was far more painful than she imagined.
“In the end... it still came to this.”
The Warden looked at Priscilia, immersed in sorrow, wanting to offer comfort, but ultimately chose silence. What could she say? No matter the words, they would only be another wound to her. After a brief silence, the Warden spoke again.
“Miss Priscilia, won't you come to Pharos?”
\Priscilia gently shook her head.
“I cannot leave this place. If I go, the children will have no one to care for them. You understand that, don't you?”
“We at Pharos can provide support for the children's lives.”
“No. To the children, this monastery is their home. I cannot take their home away for the sake of my own safety.”
“But you carry the White Shadow of the god Rafia. We at Pharos have a duty to protect you.”
“It's alright. Even though I inherited Rafia's shadow, I am not an incarnation.”
Incarnation.
Since ancient times, those who inherit the White Shadow of a god are seen as the god's proxy, revered by the people.
However, occasionally, someone who is not an incarnation also inherits the White Shadow. Though not equal to a true incarnation, the symbolism remains significant.
Standing before the Warden, Priscilia is the Nemonic who inherited the White Shadow of the god Rafia. In terms of safety, taking her back to Pharos would be the safest choice, and yet...
The Warden sighed slightly and eventually nodded gently.
“I understand. But the protective measures for you will continue. Your safety is of utmost importance.”
“Thank you for your understanding.”
After the Warden departed, Priscilia looked up at the night sky once more, gazing at the moon hanging above. She softly let out a sigh.
“Sister…”