The High Priest rose from his chair brushing his long white beard. He walked over to the window and looked at the grim landscape. The trees bore naked branches that were a stark black against the pristine snow. He leaned his hands against the edge and looked beyond the landscape . Three more months to go before he would get Lusitania back. His throat bobbed as emotions choked him, but then he recovered soon enough. Sacrifices were a part of his life and his long-term goal. Coldness of his heart returned, just like the cold winters of Cetus.
After brooding for about fifteen minutes, he went back to his table, rolled out a fresh parchment and began writing a letter. Tania hadn't sent him a message in a long time and Nomia hadn't returned either.
---
"You look beautiful, bride," Eltanin said as he removed the veil from her face.
