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...With a final stab, the monster fell. The travelers breathed a sigh of relief. As frightening as the night had been, there was hope they'd see the morning.
Then a moan of pain. As the torchlight fell on Arend's body, the travelers tried not to gasp at the blood. His sister, Elke, knelt beside him.
"Don't cry," he said.
"We're almost..." she started, but he shook his head. They had traveled far to visit the most beautiful chantry in the Anderfels and swear themselves in service to the Most Holy Andraste. But the capital was still many days away.
Arend was fading. "l wanted to hear them singing the Chant of Light," he said. "I wish..."
Elke took a breath, then began to sing. It wasn't the Chant—she did not yet know the words—but a song their mother had sung when they were children. A song about faith and love. A song sung with a devoted heart. One by one, the other travelers joined in.
Lights emerged from the darkness. Spirits of hope. Though their eyes widened, the travelers kept singing. The spirits gathered around Arend. One knelt beside Elke....
Arend and Elke both saw the next morning, and many mornings to come. Though they would come to learn the Chant, their mother's song was ever in their hearts.
And in a glade near Lavendel, they say the flowers open just before sunrise, knowing tomorrow will come.
—Local story transcribed by Warden Antoine in "Notes on the Hossberg Wetlands"