Catalyst

If there’s one thing Rowan learned by the age of five, it was the idea that she was meant for something sacred. Of course, she was promised to the Goddess at birth. But her talent for magic, her skill to weave together skin and sinew? That was a gift not many of the Church possessed.
 
Some priestesses were meant to be soldiers, wielding weapons like extensions of their own body. Others were drawn to the arts, breathing life into creations that would evoke inspiration. Priestesses of the Infallible Goddess were expected to be useful, above anything else. To please the people of Estovia throughout their lifetime.
 
It came more naturally to Rowan than some of the other priestesses. Lydia claimed it was part of Rowan’s charm, her constant aura of friendliness. Rowan wasn’t as convinced, but she liked the thought that people felt comfortable around her.
 
Rowan needed that connection with the people she was supposed to devote her life to. It made her distinctly different than most of the other priestesses. The others were content with staying within the Church walls, to pay homage to the Infallible Goddess with minimal connection to the outside world.
 
Lydia was like Rowan. She and Rowan had an understanding, that they both needed to venture beyond the Church walls. It was Lydia’s disappearance that compelled Rowan to finally branch away from the Church and Estovia. Whether she’d been aware of it or not, Lydia was the sole reason Rowan had stayed in the Church of the Infallible Goddess for so long.
 
In a different universe, it could’ve been another priestess, or an Estovian citizen who Rowan stayed behind for. But in this time, Lydia Merian was Rowan’s anchor, tugging at heartstrings.
 
There are few people Rowan would shed blood and tears for. Lydia Merian was at the top of that list, but her vanishing act allowed the list to expand. It was no longer odd to Rowan, how easy it was to find friends in her traveling companions. It was like losing her footing in a riverbank, with how quickly the dynamics shifted. But every one of them had a strange familiarity attached, a connection that felt like fate to Rowan.
 
That was what kept her alongside the group, despite how wildly different everyone could be. The familiarity, and a sharper feeling that if she took another path, she’d regret it later. Call it a priestess’ intuition, but Rowan felt it was her job to stay with this strange band of travelers. Something told Rowan that she’d have an easier time of discovering what was happening to Lydia by sticking with the group.
 
It was a single thought propelling Rowan forward, sometimes keeping her awake at night. The idea that one of Rowan’s friends would be the catalyst for something terrible.