That’s what I kept telling myself, but somehow, as I stared into the deep lapis blue eyes made by the paired guards of my swords, I couldn’t believe it. I had surrendered those very same blades back to the goddess once upon a time, leaving them in the hand of her idol on the floor of the sacred lake. I was away on a mission at the time of the fall, and I had survived when so many others had not. By failing to die in defense of my goddess, I believed that I had failed her, that I had rendered myself unfit to wield her weapons or to serve the cause of justice any longer. Later events had forced me to rethink my responsibilities, if not my failures, and so, I had returned to the lake and recovered my swords. I would do what I could for justice once again even if Justice herself had gone beyond service. But I had wanted . . . no, needed some way to acknowledge that while I might still try to follow the path of my goddess, I would never own her clarity of sight.
