The priestess whirled at the sound of Revna’s voice. The woman Revna saw would be one rarely seen. The placid, unbroken certainty of Isolde’s visage was cracked by rage. She was a fearsome woman, something which could be forgotten under all the ceremony. It wasn’t the spiritual guide that stood before Revna now, but the warrior.

Softening for a moment, Isolde walked toward Revna, took her head in her hands, and leaned her forehead against hers.

“My child.” When Isolde parted, the fire was back. Her blue eyes blazed with the fury of her ancestors. Wren had been her savior, but would she ever take up the mantle Isolde had set at her feet?

Isolde’s gratitude provided a momentary reprieve from her anger. She’d been so certain of Wren’s steadfastness and loyalty, but the warrior had given her cause to doubt. But Isolde didn’t doubt Revna – not for a second. She paused, not considering the question she was asked but the path that lay before them.

“Wren has chosen to go to Coheed,” Isolde said, for it was just that: a choice. A betrayal of her Priestess’s loyalty. “We will have to move without her now without rousing suspicion,” Isolde continued, taking Revna’s hands and squeezing them, “I need to know that I have your support.”

Of course, Isolde already knew, but she needed to hear it.

Isolde’s mouth pulled into a smile. Even within her anger, there was a deep sadness in her features. She’d endured one loss after another; of her kingdom, of her culture, and now, it would seem, of her prized daughter. But perhaps Wren’s glow had obscured the face of a greater servant yet.

“We have been too restrained in our approach,” Isolde whispered as if the very walls of the temple she’d built would turn against her, “The Nevermereans only understand violence. And so it is with violence we must return.” Her fingers brushed against Revna’s cheek.

Isolde raised her chin, a malevolent sparkle lighting in her eyes. “Our daughters have suffered so that they might be returned to the light,” She said, thinking of the Cambrians they’d branded these many weeks, “But now it is time for the men to suffer. We must make ready. In this, there can be no mistakes.” Isolde dropped her hand and stepped back, the sadness returning.

“There is something else I must ask of you, child,” Isolde’s tone made it clear she took no pleasure in what it was she was about to say, “It has become clear to me that even those we hold close must not be kept from the judgment of the All-Mother’s gaze. I must know who it is I can trust. Your Valkyrie sisters…” Isolde narrowed her eyes, “They must be tested.”

Isolde hoped she was right. The Valkyries were among her most cherished, but given the stakes, no stone could be left unturned. These times would test them all—even the priestess herself. On the other side, salvation awaited them; liberation from their oppressors that the All-Mother and her servant, Wren, would bring. But the night before the dawn would be dark and full of sorrow. They had to be prepared.

“I want to know how they’re feeling about the current occupation,” Isolde said, “Not what they’d tell me, or even what they themselves would like to believe, but how far they’re willing to go to protect what is ours. No doubt Viveka will call a meeting of the Valkyries soon—in fact, I will encourage her to do just that. When that time comes, be strategic in your questioning. Even if it means feigning doubt yourself.”

Revna was a skilled spy, though usually, her targets were not her sisters.

Isolde’s shoulders relaxed before she gestured for Revna to sit. The ire that had plagued her at the start was beginning to fade, her favored daughter’s devotion soothing the sting of Wren’s apparent betrayal.

“Kaalim has stepped down and named Rian his new chieftain,” Isolde’s tone was almost meditative, “He claims opposition to Nevermere, but I’ve asked that he prove he is serious in his convictions. Though he may yet bear fruit…” She shook her head, “I believe at present we are alone in this fight.”