A moment and a choice

You feel a new sense of caution as you enter the garden. You crossed paths with no demons, but out here, among the sunshine of early evening light, you can see Brigette more clearly than ever before. Next to your flush skin her naked flesh has an unmistakeable greenish cast to it, and her immense breasts have utterly no sag, something you have had ample opportunities to observe, for your sister shows no qualms about her nudity. Her wild brown hair falls about her head thickly, but were its strands always that firm?

You shake your head, pushing these concerns aside. You can trust Brigette. She couldn’t be tainted. Surely what happened to her was no worse than what happened to you? If not for the war mother…

These sorts of thoughts blacken your outlook on what would normally be a beautiful day. The garden is wonderful, fully in bloom with ivy growing high, flowers unfurled and breathing their scent into the air. The grass is soft underfoot as you both pad through the tightly confined flower boxes and fruit trees which make up the gardens. Brigette leads you unerringly forward, he plush rear swaying with every step, and more than once you have caught yourself staring.

Brigette stops suddenly. “What is it?” At once you’re on your guard, sword drawn and eyes flashing among the flowers all around. “A demon?”

Brigette says nothing. She crouches down before a flower bed. Her hands cup the bulb of a ruby red rose.

“I grew these from seeds,” she said softly. She looked about the garden. “All of it…Every spring, I would plant the seeds, water the plants, take care of them…”

You stare. The sword slowly lowers. Your heart melts as you suddenly realize what she means. You look back to the abbey, its form rising against the sun, shadowed and black, the same shape, yet different. It only hits you then what has happened to your home, to all of it, to everything you have ever known. What has been lost, maybe forever. Even should you secure the sword at Gerlangen, the abbey may never be retaken. Certainly never be the same. Too many sisters have already been lost…

You step nearer and gently touch Brigette’s shoulder, suddenly immensely thankful to have someone from that life at your side still. She looks up, tears lingering in the corner of her eyes. “We’re not leaving for good,” you tell her. You look back up as the shadows deepen about the abbey, sinking into every groove, the profile of grinning gargoyle’s, as if chortling over the debauchery within, stand out stark where they crouch in the alcoves. “We’ll return. And when we do, we’ll purge the halls of its taint, and make it a home again.” You squeeze her shoulder. “I promise. This all will be returned to the goddess.”

Brigette stares into your eyes. You pray you look as certain as you tried to sound. She sniffles, quickly wiping her eyes. She suddenly jerks her hands. She stands and reaches above you, gently weaving the rose into your hair. She smiles, taking her hands away.

“It matches your hair,” she says softly.

You blush deeply and quickly urge your sister on. In reflective silence you move on.

You both suddenly draw up short at a branch in the path. Brigette turns to you. “Here.” She points to you left down a cobblestone path lined with ivy and blooming yellow marigolds. “That way leads to the garden gate.” You track her hand as it swings to the opposite path, one lined with roses, their petals flush in the setting sun. “That way’s to the barn.” She lowers her arms, resigned. “That’s all I can do, Sabine. Which way?”