The cart rolled quietly across the Library's wooden corridors, a small echo to puncture the silent atmosphere. Gwyn sighed quietly, her eyes roaming over the thousands of heavy tombs before her. Unsurprisingly, Merrill had insisted that her research continue across the Winter Solstice, despite the myriad of celebrations occurring down in the city of Velaris. The thought of Merrill willingly attending a Solstice party was truly absurd, so much so that Gwyn was forced to stifle a chuckle in an effort to not disturb the few scholars roaming the corridors.

Her eyes finally alighted upon the book desired by Merrill; no doubt demanded twenty minutes ago despite the command received only minutes ago. But Gwyn rarely challenged Merrill's chastisement, guarded by fear of her home within the Library. She was certain that the High Lord would never revoke the Priestesses from the House of Wind, but her fear of that unspeakable night in the Sangravah Temple clutched her with an iron fist. While Nesta's home, fondly titled 'The House', offered a small measure of comfort credible to the safety of Velaris, the sprawling city was one challenge that Gwyn was unable to face.

As she reached towards the book, the sleeve of her white robe dropped into the crevice of her elbow, revealing the woven bracelet on her wrist. A grin stretched across her lips as she admired Nesta's handiwork, both a symbol of their forged family and the promise they shared. The training sessions with Emerie and Nesta were truly the highlight of her day, a testament to the nearly forgotten legacy of the Valkyrie legions. Gwyn knew that as her body grew stronger, her convictions grew too, crafting a resolve that her life would not be forever ruled by her fearful memories of Sangravah, but of friendship, courage and determination. The Court of Dreams, she vowed, would not one day be shrouded in shadows, but glow anew with starlight.

Pulling her thoughts back to the present, she headed in the direction of Merrill's office, grimacing at the harsh remarks likely to be thrown upon her arrival. As she travelled the Library's levels, Gwyn politely nodded at the few Priestesses she passed, smiling as her eyes brushed over the Training sign-up sheet, noting a couple of new additions. Cassian would be thrilled to see the growing interest, his pure, unmitigated devotion to bringing any form of security to the Priestesses caused a burst of pride to swell within Gwyn's heart. She could truly not think of a better man to soothe Nesta's rampaging fire. He would never smother her flames. But kindle her passion and the love she painfully felt, but rarely revealed.

As though helpless to the call, Gwyn's thoughts slowly fell to ponder the Shadowsinger, as they always did when she thought of his brother. Azriel was truly the reverse of Cassian, his classically beautiful features in utter contrast to Cassian's evident ruggedness. The cool intelligence in his hazel eyes, guarded but betrayed by small flickers of emotion which Gwyn yearned to decipher. The brutally scarred hands which near-constantly reached for the hilt of his dagger, Truth-Teller, assessing the city for danger, indicative of the ingrained desire to protect the family and home that he fought hard to find. The slight crinkling of his eyes and upturn of his lips when a Priestess grew assured of a movement. Gwyn was oftentimes surprised by how much she observed the Shadowsinger during training, how her eyes inadvertently sought his curling shadows and powerful gaze. Unlike the terrifying shadows which plagued her nightmares and strangled her unconscious screams, Azriel's shadows drew her in, commanded her to reach out and acknowledge the fears rather than flee from them. Not even Nesta and Emerie knew that sometimes his shadows appeared to whisper to her, caressing her ears with indiscernible words yet an overwhelming sense of safety and home. Gwyn was uncertain why the shadows had sought her, why they had begun to whisper on the day that Azriel wrapped her in his cloak and carried her from the Sangravah Temple, distraught and broken. Why they still whispered today. Or if he even knew that his shadows assured her. But regardless, Gwyn was thankful for their presense, empowered by her unspoken promise to Azriel that one day she could conquer her fears. She would indeed stand by her sisters as Valkyrie, protecting both the city and the family she loved.

A slim figure stepped in front of the cart, slinging Gwyn's focus back to the Library. Clotho, the Library's High Priestess, offered her a small smile in greeting, politely extending a damaged hand to halt Gwyn's passage. While Gwyn had seen Clotho's hands a thousand times before, they still filled her with an overpowering sense of hatred for the men who had beat and ripped out her tongue. And surely harmed countless other women. But Gwyn quickly smiled at Clotho, allowing the anger to diminish before it reached her face. Instead, she stowed her anger as a burning incentive; once she truly became Valkyrie, Gwyn would pledge her life to train other women as Valkyrie. She would proudly fight within her unit, to protect and train those who like Clotho, like so many of the Priestesses, had been unable to protect themselves.

"Hello Clotho." She said. "Happy Solstice."

Clotho smiled again, nodding in return of Gwyn's tiding. She beckoned for Gwyn to follow her, reaching the large, oak desk where she assisted scholars with their queries. Gwyn waited patiently, albeit curiously while Clotho retrieved from her desk draw a small, velvet box, placing it carefully on the polished wood. Clotho again gestured towards the box.

Gwyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, "Is this for me?" Clotho nodded. Both Nesta and Emerie had already showered Gwyn with gifts come Solstice morning at the House, ranging from books to chocolates to training leathers to a rather small miniature Pegasus which left Gwyn snorting with laughter at the memory of the night where they forged their small family. She sighed slightly at her friend's ridiculous yet cherished overindulgence, shaking her head with a small smile. She carefully released the clasp.

Gwyn's eyes flicked up towards Clotho, who had politely distanced herself to provide Gwyn with a moment of privacy. "Please, do you know who left this?" she asked.

Clotho waved her hand, causing a pencil to write a swift message before sliding the paper across the desk. Gwyn quickly read Clotho's neat response: The gift was left for you by a Friend.

Replacing the clasp, Gwyn carefully stowed the box within the pocket of her white robe. "Thank you, Clotho." She said, wishing her voice came out stronger than the mere whisper it did. Clotho smiled at Gwyn, seating herself behind the desk before summoning a heavy, leather-bound book from a distant shelf.

Returning to the cart, Gwyn quickly headed into an unoccupied reading nook, currently safe from view of the Priestesses or visiting scholars. Only then did she withdraw the small box, again opening the clasp to reveal the anonymous gift.

Nestled within the box's soft silk lay a golden necklace, holding a delicate flat rose fashioned of stained glass. She carefully lifted the necklace, gasping in delight at the depths of pink and red and white which danced across the Library walls in the pale light. Gwyn had never owned such a piece of jewellery, rarely ever having to cause to adorn herself, excluding the friendship bracelets she shared with Nesta and Emerie. But the necklace was undeniably the most exquisite thing she had ever received. For what seemed like an eternity, she admired the fragile facets of colour, tears freely flowing from her teal eyes. She somehow knew that this gift has not been left by either Nesta or Emerie, but another. Undoing the necklace, she gently clasped it around her neck before covering it with the folds of her white robes. Placing the velvet box within her pocket, she returned to the cart, wheeling it towards Merrill's office, where she was sure to receive a sound scorning for her lateness.

However, as she approached the door, Merrill's scowling face looming behind the door, Gwyn couldn't contain her broad smile. Her smile only increased as she felt the light whisper of familiar shadows upon her shoulders, murmuring the promise of home and love in her pointed ears. Her hand lightly rested upon her robe where the concealed necklace lay, savouring the wonder she felt at such a thing of secret, lovely beauty.