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I still can't believe we're alive. I've never seen a city like Abagarlas. The horrors I witnessed there are etched into my dreams. We do live, though. I have my Ostarand, and we have the crystal. That's all that matters.
- - - - - - - -
Since entering the Dwarven city, Curano has grown quiet. Today I learned why. She took me aside to talk. She believes someone must be sacrificed to the crystal before we hide it. Several powerful priestesses gave their lives to see it forged in the first place, she said.
It makes sense. Molag Bal revels in undeath and destruction. A life given willingly and bound would be anathema to that fiend.
Curano asked me if I'm willing to make the sacrifice when the time comes. I am … I am very afraid.
- - - - - - - -
Ostarand and I were betrothed just weeks ago. He was furious when I told him of Curano's request. And I was afraid.
And so I prayed. I spoke with Meridia for hours. I knew before I knelt that it would be my duty to accept the burden. But duty, honor … they're just words. Compared to the feel of Ostarand's hand on my cheek, how could I willingly agree?
In the end, it was for Ostarand that I agreed. With my death, I can ensure the future of our world. Nirn will have need of the weapon again. And my light will last forever, bound to the crystal's heart.
How could any priestess of the Sunburst turn that down?