The shrine of Alinande stood solemn and silent in the aftermath of the autumn storm. Crimson leaves that had been clinging desperately to the skeletal branches of the surrounding oaks, now lay scattered like drops of blood across the damp earth. Michail himself had chosen this secluded corner of the garden as the site for the shrine, and he had helped Magister Cornelius to build it. Now, having gathered enough strength to walk outside for fresh air, he made his way to the shrine with slow and deliberate steps. He knelt before the finely carved stone figurine that represented his beloved goddess, seeking solace and absolution in this holy refuge.

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  As Michail prayed forgiveness for taking part in the tavern brawl that had brought shame to him and his family, his heart swelled with gratitude towards Alinande for healing his wounds with such divine grace. “Merciful mother, please forgive my sins,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his transgressions. “Guide me on the path of righteousness and grant me wisdom to resist temptation. Help me to bring my uncle’s murderer to justice, so that his soul can rest in peace with you. I will be your humble servant till the end of my days, and beyond.”

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