Role

Chapter 6

Apsalareia sat, cross-legged and back straight, within the Hall of Fire. All about her the Fortress bustled, but here was quiet, the perfect medium for her ruminations.
The bags of sand with which she trained hung silent sentinel all about her, some now burned or rimed in ice, others aglow with residual light from her fists.
Truly the blessing the Lady had gifted her was a beautiful thing. After each time she trained her body and spirit she simply sat here, running the exercise through her mind.
There was no attempt to deceive herself in these musings. Each and every mistake was turned over and over, poked and prodded from all angles until a solution came. Even as one was solved, she knew next time would bring more.
As the Lady had said, perfection was not for mortals. She thought, though, that each time something new clicked into place, at least she was one step closer.

One could only train for so long though, before the best training became the world outside the sparring chambers, with its harsh edges and brutal falls. Those, she knew, would be the next steps in her learning, each a painful lesson.
Muscles protested as she stood and stepped lightly through the corridors and roads, making her way to Galadon. This first test took her deep into the bowels of the blighted mausoleum, face to face with a great evil mentioned only in whispers.
The dracolich struck at her as soon as she entered, bone claws and a rictus of malign teeth crashing down from all sides. Her mind was calm, her faith sure, and the blazing light of her fists struck with the force of falling mountains.

Her journey thereafter carried her deep into the realms of dreaming, to a cavern black as sin and foul as a slow death. A thing of nightmares loomed before her, descending in a landslide of bestial fury to devour her whole.
This battle was longer, and soon Apsalareia bled freely, the vibrancy of elven blood splashing upon the stone. The dragon did much to turn the tables, to make her no longer the predator, but the prey.
When it finally lay dead at her feet, she fell heavily to her knees, held up only by the certainty of her faith and the Lady at her side, and with that certainty came the knitting of her flesh.
In that cave, surrounded by blood and darkness, she turned the fight over and over in her mind. She had made mistakes, true. She had bled for them.
These were lessons she would learn well. Wheresoever evil tread, she would follow. One day, she would be the huntress, and darkness would forever be the prey.