A G U I
Kito's feet carried her onto Mirial's soil for the first time. She had never set foot in this world, only studied it in passing on the way here. Yet everywhere she turned, one name lingered on the lips of the natives: Arabella Olivarius. Their voices carried reverence when they spoke of her greatness.
Her Master had mentioned the woman before — another who once served as an Ashlan Crusader. From his words, Arabella had been a paragon of their order, a symbol of faith and strength. The thought stirred pride in Kito's chest; to walk the same path her Master once had filled her with both resolve and nerves. Meeting Arabella would not be simple. The stories of the crusades, of the victories against the followers of Bogan — Kito longed to live them herself.
Her thoughts carried her through the gates of Sancta Concordia, the city she had only known as legend.
She stopped short, taking in its beauty. The presence of Ashla seemed to embrace her here, woven into every stone and beam. Yet beneath the awe came a hollow tug in her gut — the question of worthiness. For all her devotion to Ashla's light, she had strayed.
And she did not regret it.
Kito pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the honor of simply being here.
Her pace slowed as she admired the city's architecture, her eyes catching on halls, spires, and shrines she longed to visit. But her purpose was clear: Arabella awaited her at the temple. The young Shaper climbed the steep dias, step after step, toward the ornate doorway built to honor Ashla.
Each stride felt heavier than the last. Her sins weighed on her shoulders — most she believed penance could cleanse, but one she would never seek forgiveness for. She rolled her shoulders, steadying herself as she reached the top.
Crossing the threshold, the blade at her side seemed to hum the moment she passed through the temple doors. Worshipers filtered in and out, voices hushed in reverence, yet Kito stood alone at the heart of the grand entryway. Her ochre eyes swept across the space, taking in every ounce of Ashla's grace.
She shifted where she stood, nerves knotting in her stomach at the thought of finally meeting the woman she had grown to admire through stories alone.