Patron's Flame

The streets of the polis are cacophony, ripe berries and lyre strings filling the air with intoxicating autumn.

The joyful crowd crosses fields of wanton bounty, singing of the fruitful harvest. Wine and poetry flow like a gurgling stream, the golden leaves on the trees a sign that another successful year is coming to a close.

Even in their jubilation, the people keep the sacred flame lit - its warm light piercing the night sky - for they know who is responsible for this prosperity. Whether as Pallas, Polias, or Promachos, their wise patron looks down upon her charges with a satisfied smile, pleased with their continued devotion.