The air in the sept was cool, filled with the faint scent of incense. The soft fragrance mingled with the quiet reverence of the sacred space, creating an atmosphere of serene contemplation. Candles flickered gently, their warm glow casting dancing shadows on the walls adorned with intricate depictions of the Seven. The silent figures of the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Smith, the Maiden, the Crone, and the Stranger watched over the faithful, their painted eyes seeming to follow every movement.

In a secluded corner, near the altar of the Mother, you knelt on a cushion, your head bowed in earnest prayer. The words you murmured were a private supplication, a plea for guidance and strength amidst the turmoil that surrounded your family. The stillness of the sept offered a rare moment of peace, a sanctuary from the harsh realities of the outside world.

You whipped your head around, your eyes widening in surprise. Standing a few paces away, framed by the flickering candlelight, was none other than Ser Gwayne Hightower. His presence was imposing, yet there was a softness in his gaze as he looked at you. His armor, though well-polished, seemed to blend into the dim light of the sept, and his usually stern expression was tempered by a look of genuine concern.