Roll of Honor: Briar

Bramble and thorn unbraid at her will. Briar steps through, her feet crushing soft blades of grass, the ground thick and spongy beneath. She hesitates, looks behind her to witness the burr close tight, the glow of Candlehold dimming to the size of a seed.

She feels hot, her palms sweaty, the sensation as foreign as the fields before her. She calls out to Davnir; asks the Ancient for the courage to continue. In reply, flying insects rush and buzz. The soil throbs, connecting her body with the land. She kneels and places her hands upon the earth. Waits. Just ahead, the grass flattens into footprints. They move apace towards a distant hillock. Disappear into nothing. She thanks the Ancient for his encouragement and stands.

The further she ventures, the faster the transformation. Veridian stipules arranged like fingers burst out from the gaps in her breastplate. Her tattooed runes brighten, illuminating with newfound power. Tendrils of lightning wrap tightly around Rosetta Thorn, charging and pulsing. She calls out to Yvor; thanks the Ancient for these gifts. In reply, clouds rumble and flash, fusing her sword with the sky.

She relaxes, for now she knows. She will always be Warden of the Rosetta, but with thorns reformed. The Flow, her new guide. Greater Aria, the messenger.