Nothing else felt like this. Saddled atop her horse, overlooking the battlefield where the faithful fought against the barbarians under the scorching sun, Lyria fell into perfect communion with her God.
His warmth, His energy, His divine power – all this flowed like water from a stream, directly into her body from the divine star that shone in the sky.
And just as she felt the power wash over and into her, so did she feel it come out, through her eyes, fingers, through the pores of her skin – it radiated around her, funneling strength and courage into her soldiers, punishing her enemies with heat and weariness.
She was the Sun, and the Sun was She – The Rose of the North had become the Hand of Lohander in Elessia. As was her destiny. As was her birthright.
She was one with her God.
She was invincible.
Art by Macarious via DeviantArt