It was the coldest night of the year, and snow covered the forest. The full moon shone brightly in the clearing, and was reflected from the pool of water. No ice touched the surface of the pond, set in the center of the clearing. There never was, no matter how cold it became. The Mirror remained as still and silent as its namesake object did.

By the Mirror, in the shadow of the ancient tree that had no name, a shape shifted slightly. There was no other movement. The only sound was a distant howl, quickly swallowed into the night. The man watched the shape silently for many long moments, his breath turned misty by the cold air. He glanced at the moon's position. It was time.

"Resana Alibar!" he called out suddenly. There was no movement from the silent shape under the tree. "Tonight you have stood vigil for yourself, by the Mirror. Your only witnesses were the moon and stars, and the souls of the departed. Are you ready?"

The silence of the forest descended then, and he waited patiently. Often there was a pause, while the noviate searched their mind and soul. At last, the shape stood in one fluid motion.

"I am ready, old man. Come, the night is growing old." The girl's voice was calm, quiet. She sounded sure of herself. That meant little-so many of them did. The man smiled. "It's not that old, child. And neither am I.