Sweet dreams, Sabine

If you cannot defeat the darkness inside you, what right would you ever have had to become a paladin? That route may be closed off to you now, but your training will not be in vain. "I'll do it, Indra."

The preparations take several hours to complete, so it's dark again before the ritual is ready. You assist where you can, which amounts essentially to handing her certain ingredients or grinding other items into a fine powder. Together, you clear a large space on the floor, and arrange candles and various points around the room. That's about all you're qualified to do, as the rest of time is spent crafting an intricate magic circle. You note, with some disdain, that the circle bears a striking resemblance to the symbol tattooed below your navel, but you don't mention anything of it. Magic isn't your forte so you've no foundation from which to formulate any sort of argument. Besides, you're committed to this plan, for better or worse.

Indra instructs you to lie down in the middle of the circle while she finishes her preparations and to clear your mind as much as possible. "The less you bring with you, the better." Hmph. Of course you'll try, but whenever War Mother told you not to think of pink olafaunts, that's all you could imagine. And today, you've got quite a lot more on your mind than that.

That minor rebellion of your imagination out of the way, you do clear your mind pretty quickly - discipline was, is, a primary tenet of your training, after all. Your breathing is even, you allow your eyes to close, and the quiet pitter-patter of the rain falling against the window fills your senses.

You know that time passes quickly in this meditative state, but you're not aware of its actual passage. Indra begins to chant, but her voice only seems to draw you deeper and deeper into your consciousness. You feel a sensation of descending, but not falling, more like sinking.

When it occurs to you to open your eyes to ask Indra if she's ready to start the ritual, you find yourself back in the abbey. Well, that answers that question.

Specifically, you find yourself in your bed. It's just as you remember it when you awoke in your own, familiar room several days ago now, only the ceiling of the abbey has been torn away, and in place of the blue sky you might expect, there's instead an endless sea of stars. Gingerly, you get out of bed. Your bare feet echo on the smooth stone floor. Looking down, you think it's an odd sound, and likewise wonder why you're not cold. You see naked flesh from the tips of your toes up to your pert breasts, skin of the fairest alabaster, unblemished by any marks or scars, and plump, perky breasts tipped with little pink nipples. They seem bigger, not grossly, but enough extra curve to be attractive. You feel your flaming red hair swish along your back, longer than you keep it, slightly curled, glamorous.

You realize its your idealized body - the Sabine you would be if you could magic these changes into reality. Your appearance is bittersweet - you enjoy the look and feel of this body, but it's just a projection, one that will only serve you until you wake up from your task. And with that task in mind, it won't do to be naked.

At the thought of donning clothes, you find yourself strapping the last of your armor on, form-fitted plate mail that should protect you well without restricting your mobility too badly, and the holy sword entrusted to you strapped to your waist... For barely a moment, you wonder what just happened before the answer comes to you. This place is like a lucid dream - you're moving from one moment to the next at the speed of thought. That should be handy while you explore.

You begin to wander the halls of the abbey. All is silent except for the echoes of your footfalls. All is still. You see no sign of the battle with the daemons. There is no sign of your sisters. Still, there must be something here... some place you're supposed to go, or some person you're supposed to find?