“I just want to help…” Celeste bit her lip in frustration, looking on after that huddled mass.

“I know, Your Radiance, I know.” Gardinal assured her. “But perhaps there are women inside the homes with a similar sickness, but earlier in its onset, that you might be able to help.”

Nodding, Celeste rose. She let her gaze sweep down the Red Curtain district road, eyes lingering on the structures that loomed over it all. Most of them were two or three stories, rough hewn structures of plaster held together with wood support. Much of the wood mismatched and likely claimed from older buildings long since collapsed. Just like the women, a dozen different origins, looking a dozen different ways, but all had come here. She knew their stories; knew how they had gotten to this point. Failure, the failure of those who were supposed to be there to help them. People like her.

Looking up at one of the buildings, Celeste’s eyes caught someone, in a window high above, a few buildings down. It was a woman, beautiful with golden hair in a braid pulled over her shoulder. Her face was gaunt though, sickly, and she looked… so sad. The woman stared right at Celeste in that window, then stepped away when she realized Celeste looked back at her.

“Your Radiance?” Gardinal asked, stepping up to her and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Celeste looked up at that window, looked where that woman had been, and felt a deep sadness.

“There was a woman just then, in the window.” She whispered.

“Ah, yes.” Gardinal shook his head. “Not all who’s mind crack are sent to the streets. Likely just another broken soul.”

Celeste nodded and felt herself drawn to that empty window. Something about that woman lingering in her mind. She looked… familiar. But didn’t they all? Too many women who lived in these streets suffered from the same pain, the same past.

Celeste hated it, hated what had been forced upon them. She had heard their stories, all the same. The same as what Thelyra had told her, or at least close enough. They were destitute, desperate, pregnant without a husband, a husband who had died, all sad, broken, poor women alone in a city that didn’t care. And what was she doing? Healing their flesh? While their minds suffered in anguish? It wasn’t enough.

What had Thelyra told her? That the temple had turned her away over novice fees? Was this what her temple had fallen too? The size of one’s coin pouch had no bearing on the Mother’s love, yet they treated their novices like a Silvermarket Guild. The temple needed to be better, it was supposed to be a shrine to the Most Merciful, a Mother who cared for all her children equally, not just the wealthy. Celeste felt an anger well within, and she knew how to use it. The temple would be better.

“Brother Gardinal.” Celeste whispered. “When we return to our home, I would like your assistance with something.”

“Yes, Your Radiance?” Gardinal responded, curiosity in his tone.

“I would like your assistance with composing a letter to the Bishop, an official document of sorts.” She explained. “And I will need help outlining my goals.”

“What goals?” he asked.

“What are you on about Celes…” Vallerian began before she cut him off.

“I wish to start a new order within our temple. An order dedicated to the lost and forgotten women of our city. We have coin and precious gems enough to feed an empire, yet we let these women rot in the streets because they can not afford novice fees. No longer, Gardinal. These will be Ethinian priestess, taking in any woman who needs help, and feeding them, clothing them, and educating them. I am done with letting our people suffer while we only pray louder as to not hear their cries. We claim to serve the First Mother, yet we only care about the children who fell closest to the tree. No more will I let this hypocrisy stand. This order will be my duty, my work, and it will be in Ethinia’s name.” Celeste vowed, setting her jaw and looking at that empty window.

“I… Your Radiance. I don’t…”

Celeste turned and looked at him, and as he saw her, he swallowed hard.

“By your will, Prophetess.” He responded, giving her a bow. “Perhaps its best we be returning now then. I think all this moving about has…”

Gardinal was cut off as three forms came rushing over to them from down the street. Kriss at their head, Celeste realized with a skip of her heart.

“Celeste!” Kriss called out as they approached. “And Gardinal and Vallerian.” He gasped with relief. “Thank the Pantheon you are all here.”

“What are you on about man?” Gardinal asked. Looking past Kriss, Celeste spotted Rekiak and a short Jöln man beside him. They all looked exhausted.

“Rekiak, tell them what your friend told you.” Kriss urged the tall Korek.

“Young Mercy.” Rekiak began, taking a knee. “My friend has come with a grave warning, one that I knew you would need to hear.”

“What is it my friend?” Celeste asked, reaching out and cupping the man’s cheek in her hand. A little bit of the Mothers light flowing to calm her friend’s nerves.

“Who’s the Jöln?” Vallerian asked snidely.

“I…” the Jöln began nervously. “I come from the cult.”

At that, Gardinal and Vallerian both quickly reveled weapons, each looking around nervously for more.

“He is not here to attack.” Rekiak explained hastily. “He risked everything to bring me his message, please listen to him!”

“Stand down.” Celeste commanded Gardinal and Vallerian, the pair doing as they were told if reluctantly. “Now what is wrong? What has you so scared?”

“It’s him, the Summoner, Your Radiance.” The Jöln managed to stammer out. “He’s doing… something, something awful.”

“When?” Vallerian demanded.

“Now.”