Sleep, my darling Sister.
A tight hug, and she was off, riding swiftly on her steed away from Elizabetha, who stood, watching her as she hugged her elbows, praying silently that whatever errand it was that had compelled her to leave would not be in vain. "Light be with you, sister," she whispered and turned as Fred, the man who'd driven the cart and dug the hole by the pallisades of Pyrewood, called out to her, asking if they could get on with it. His expression was a mixture of fear and discomfort - and no wonder. It had hardly been an half hour since they had ridden into the village, only to find themselves to suddenly be surrounded by Worgen. Nevertheless, the swords of both women had cut a sway out of the town, and none had been injured, save for a bruise or two.
Elizabetha sighed, and walked over towards Fred, casting a glance at the great ocean, which contrasting to the events of her homecity and the life of the Sister she was about to lay to rest, was so peaceful, and calm. Silently, Elizabetha thanked the circumstances now - hardly any wind, and still a few rays of the sun illuminating the mountainpeaks where elusive Gilneas was situated. Surely this was a metaphor for the peace and tranquility in midst of chaos that Elizabetha prayed that Sister Dywana Raddcliffe had finally found.
She approached Fred in silence, and in a quiet manner did they lift the remains of Dywana off the cart and carefully place them into the grave. Finally Elizabetha fetched the small wooden box that contained her seperated head, and placed it beside the body. Sighing Elizabetha stepped back, and gestured Fred to wait as he already stood poised to fill the hole. She ignored his ill disguised appareance of being unwilling to tarry much longer, and knelt down by the open grave.
"Light," she began as she closed her eyes, "that shines in the darkness, and shines between us when we realise that we do that which is good. Grant rest to Sister Dywana Raddcliffe, the rest that eluded her ever since the days of loss, and the rest that eluded her in her days of searching." Elizabetha struggled within as she prayed, recounting the details of Dywana's death, which as always replayed within her mind, waking anew the sorrow of loss. "Dywana...rest peacefully in the Light - I pray the same as I did when I buried your lock of hair in Feathermoon Stronghold, and I renew that supplication. May the Celestials in their loving-kindness embrace your soul, and carry you to the afterlife, there to rest eternally, far removed from the strife of this world, and the wars of the unholy and holy alike. May you shine as you did, Sister...when you gave me the spear as a gesture of your goodwill...and may you shine forever more when all has fallen, and every nation is cast down."
Tears fell down her cheeks as she fetched a small bouquet of peaceflowers that she had picked herself for the occasion - partly because of the flower's name, and partly because she knew that flower the best from her childhood. "Sleep, my darling Sister," she whispered and bowed down, placing the bouquet on the remains. "Sleep..."
Rising, Elizabetha called upon the Light, and held out her hands above the grave, saying, "Light grant me the power to sanctify, to consecrate, and make this earth sacrosanct that no ill-willed powers shall ever attempt to disturb that which is resting...forever more till the end of all things." She made the sign of the Light, and cast forth a sudden flash of Light into the ground, making Fred nearly fall over in surprise. "Light be praised," she said and wiped her face, nodding over at Fred, who barely seemed to recall that he was supposed to fill the hole.
Elizabetha watched in silence as piece by piece of her deceased Sister was covered by the earth, until the grave was finally filled entirely.
It was done.
Sister Dywana Raddcliffe was finally resting at her home.