|Excerpt : Chapter Four -- Prince of the Furies|
Between the grove and what appeared a small graveyard, the shrine rose tall and elegant. The building seemed a newer construction, and smelled of fresh cut oak when Jascha opened the double doors that were solid and stained a reddish-brown. They stepped into the vestibule and its silence held them. The building was square and not large, but adequate for a small village. Light came from stained-glass windows within the main chamber, which was open to them, and rowed clerestory across the nave of the roof. A beam of sunlight streamed into the rear of the chamber onto what appeared a bare table, without cloth or candle; and beside it knelt the girl they saw earlier. Jascha insisted they wait.
Andro studied her from across the room. She appeared statuesque, illuminated by the sun, but innocent and beautiful. As still as an angel in a painting, she startled him when she suddenly turned. In a soft voice she spoke, “Come.”