Dream

Finally, as the eastern sky began to lighten and the stars faded, they came to the end of the marsh, and a river. Beside the river was a hill, one great grey stone that rose above its surroundings. The top was flat, ringed with  trees that formed a living henge, and covered with oak leaves and thick moss. They landed there and crept into the shelter of a fallen live oak. They lay there, numb with exhaustion, seeing the sun's edge at the horizon grow into light.
Finally she made the effort to look at him. "Why wouldn't you let me land?"
He sighed. "At the Tower? You don't always fly. Sometimes, often, when you jump from the Tower, you just fall. There's no way to know which it'll be, you just have to do it and hope. Or stay in the Tower. But if you do that, you'll starve. No way around that. Sooner or later, you escape or you die."
 

Oblation

Each of the brethren stood with his chalice, and made his vow, and gave his drink-offering of the wine which represented his blood. A few dipped their fingers into the wine and sprinkled it, but most had picked up the Ellene trick of flicking the wrist to let only a few drops spill. Man after man, down the line, made their pledge, spilled a few drops to honor the God, and stepped back, until de Clarion. He lifted his goblet, and vowed as the others had to sacrifice himself, and then stopped. His face was pale. He tipped his cup sideways, so the wine  trickled down the side of the cup and dripped onto the stone. And then he tipped it further, pouring the wine, slowly but without ceasing, until the chalice was empty and all his wine was puddled on the stone before him.