Isran knocked gently on the frame of Ara’s barrack’s door. The human woman lifted up her head with a small smile.

  “Hi Isran.”

  Isran smiled hesitantly back.

  Ara was packing her things.

  “You were truly admirable today.” Isran forced out, standing as still as possible. She didn’t want to show her nerves.

  Ara ughed a bit, soft and bashful. “Thank you. I appreciate the compliment.”

  Isran cleared her throat, nervous about what she wanted to ask the mage. She had no idea how to even phrase her question.

  Why do you fight?

  Being direct was never a bad thing.

  “Why do you fight Ara?”

  The mage stopped packing and looked up in thought with a light hum.

  “Well, I grew up in a smuggling ring.”

  Isran felt her heart sink at that information.

  “When I was saved the mage I stayed with taught me simple theory so I could one day work in a temple in Evelncarth.” Ara chuckled. “But I wanted to fight… why?”

  Ara had seemingly gathered her thoughts and continued to pack as she spoke.

  “So I would never feel the way I felt in the smuggling ring ever again. I do enjoy fighting, the rush, the power. But the feeling of being helpless is something I will never ever experience again, and fighting helps me with that goal.”

  Isran tilted her head. She wondered if the question she wanted to ask was rude. “How do you keep getting up when you lose? How do you keep fighting? Even when you feel like giving up.”

  Ara looked up from her clothes and into Isran’s eyes with a smile. “I think about the fact that I get to protect myself. That the gods have answered my prayers and I am capable. And that even if I lose one I will win many more.”

  It made sense that the people in Noes were a lot more religious than even religious people from Isran’s past life. It was a bit jarring to hear their assured conviction, then again gods were very much real in Neos.

  Isran nodded, she started to turn when Ara threw the question back at her.

  “Why do you fight?”

  Isran sighed to herself. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  Ara smiled at her. “That is as good a reason as any.”

  Isran tilted her head in confusion. “I don’t think I understand.”

  The mage took a piece of paper and came closer. “You fight to find out why you fight. I know it sounds a little stupid but if you really feel like you need a reason this is as good as I can think of.”

  Isran took the empty piece of paper from the mage. “Wh—what’s this for?”

  “For why you fight.”

  A few hours ter Isran was in her room, a pen in hand and the bnk piece of paper in front of her. To have something else she took out Phaedra’s letter and thought about the text on the page.

  A thought went through her mind as she thought about the woman who had written her the letter.

  To protect.

  Isran recognized it as foreign. Simir to the question that she had been thinking about. She wrote it down anyway.

  The paper felt like it had more meaning with something written on it.

  Isran thought about prayer. She hadn’t seen anyone csping their hands and praying or even on their knees so she had no idea how prayer worked in Neos. Still, she wanted to try it.

  Her youth pastor had said prayer was communicating with god. Isran sighed and csped her hands together, her head lowered and her heart beating. When was the st time she had even tried something akin to a prayer?

  She prayed in her head, a bit embarrassed by the act.

  “Vycor… Sephia… uh I’m grateful for the life you’ve literally given me… but I feel like it's not completely my own. I hate that the first attempt to communicate with you both is such a selfish request but… if you have any reasons for my memory issues or even these foreign urges… some communication would be appreciated… Amen.”

  Saying amen was probably completely unnecessary and the gods she had just prayed to probably didn’t hear her but she did feel a bit calmer after saying the prayer.

  She y down on her bed. The paper, letter, and pen clutched to her chest as she drifted off to sleep.

  There was a strange feeling she had, like the next day would be different. But that was most probably wishful thinking. She had said one prayer and was deluding herself.

  “Good night Isran.” Alden groggily mumbled.

  Isran hadn’t realized he was still awake. “Good night Alden.”