A Shelter, by Coil

Published: Dec 27 2007

Coil sat beneath the willow in the garden. The body harvest had been a good one, and the plants were thriving. His blades were in their sheaths, hanging from his belt on a lower limb of the tree. While he was gone the craftsmen had finished the statue of the Queen, and the stone bench for the garden. He eased his back bone into a comfortable position against the gnarly bark of the old willow. The bench would be Urynmaal's memorial.
The Forsaken Be Damned. He had never met the baalor, only had memories of him from Vaklamana's blood. He could hear the whisperings in the temple; he could sense the coming of a storm. The power struggles that were to come with the empty void. The Wrathbringer was missing, unable to be found. Rijda's words echoed through Coil's mind, one spoken to him as a fledgling.

"Prepare your blades, for a storm is coming."

He would be the shelter for that storm. No blood would spill, no eternities would be lost. He would protect the templars from themselves. He walked through the halls, seeing the notice posted by Akorylene. He stopped for a moment, staring at her signature. High Priestess? He had not been informed of such. Had he missed the ritual, or was this more leading into the storm that was to rage. Slipping into the shadows, he waited, watching.