Death lingered. Her child gone. Her relatives lost, and her murderer slain. Her mentor lived, no matter how they tried to kill her.
The Manji were full of mystery and unconventional efforts to strengthen themselves. Caitlyn had send Mikiko off to see where Les had gone, but hadn't returned.
The temple was empty on this day, with only a few of the ill outside, lingering, keeping watch as they normally do. The long red rug from the door to the back of the temple was no longer tainted with blood. It was instead damp with tears and regret, by the woman that cared for this world.
She had waited for years it seemed, for an answer, only to learn a truth she had long tried to believe was a lie.
"I was a Manji from the start." she would try to convince herself of her own truth. "The Setsuna ARE the Manji." she would repeat it. "We are as human as the god that gave us life. Our god is the same."
She sat before the alter, her legs crossed, her arms folded and her head low. Her god had fallen silent, without words to guild any of them, chaos was coming soon enough.
She was in no way angered with her true past, but was disappointed in all of her wasted work. But perhaps, in her efforts, all of the work was needed, for her god wished it. Her god, her creator. Her mother. . .