Celeste awoke with a jolt. Her breaths were laboured as she stared wide eyed around at the room, resting on her arms for support.

“You are safe Your Radiance.” An older woman stepped towards her, keeping a respectful distance. Celeste wanted to reach for the woman, but she found her arms too weak to even lift. Her friends, she needed her friends to help her. Celeste looked around, trying to make sense of where she was.

From the cascading silk, and the fluted marble columns, Celeste understood where she was well this time. She was home, back at the temple. Looking past the woman, she saw half a dozen other handmaidens standing in a line, awaiting her word.

One of the women, an older Sherya lady, whispered something to a young Fereni girl that made her run off like a street child running from an angry merchant. Likely carrying word to her father, Celeste realized. It had been so long since she had seen her father. Swallowing hard, Celeste realized how dry her throat was. Valleresa usually had water ready for her when she awoke.

Valleresa.

Looking around, Celeste tried to spot her friend among the attendants.

“S… Sisters…” Celeste croaked, her voice tight from dryness.

“Now Your Radiance, no need to be pushing yourself yet.” The older handmaiden nearby spoke. Her voice was soft, like a grandmother’s was supposed to be.

“Water please.” Celeste managed to squeak out.

Another of the girls quickly moved to fulfill the request, pouring water into a small cut crystal chalice from a silver pitcher. Celeste took the fine cup quickly and downed the water, desperate to be able to speak.

“Valleresa…” Celeste managed to push out through short breaths. “where is Sister Valleresa?”

This time the older Sherya woman stepped forward. “Your Radiance you seem to be confused and exhausted still. Perhaps it is best if you rest some more. We do not want you overexerting yourself anymore.” That one was more like the stern governess from Valleresa’s books.

“Please.” Celeste begged. “Where are Sisters Valleresa and Arabella? And Gardinal? Or Lord Vallerian?” She barraged them with questions, just barely cutting short before asking about Kriss. Something told her that her father would not take kindly to Kriss visiting her chambers. And with these women she did not know, such inquiries were sure to reach his ears.

“Your Radiance.” The older women re-iterated. “Perhaps it would be best if you rest further.” She had a stern countenance, not ready to give an inch. “Your little friends, as far as I have been made aware, are no longer in any danger.”

Celeste nearly glared at the woman. No danger was not necessarily the same as safe.

“I would like to speak with His Grace the Bishop.” Celeste announced, trying to sound strong, like Gardinal would have.

“His Grace is a very busy man Your Radiance.” The woman chided, ignoring the command. “He can not be coming around every time you feel a bit lonely now, can he?” The woman clicked her tongue in a most frustrating motion, and Celeste tried her best to not get frustrated. “For now, please rest Prophetess. We are all so very concerned for your health.”

Celeste looked at the strange faces of the women attending her, saw them all nodding in agreement like bobbing birds atop a roof. Lying back down Celeste knew she had little choice in the matter so she tried to rest.

Slipping back into the plush down pillows and silk sheets, exhaustion settled over her once more. Exhaustion and memories.

Images of daemons filled her mind, that terrifying monstrosity, grown from a slaughtered child and a broken man. A chill sweat broke out over her as it intruded in her mind, stretching its razer sharp claws across her memories. Her heart beat rapidly as she tried desperately not to think of the Summoner’s grim smile as he died, as his body contorted with The Chaos’s shadows.

A cycle of suffering, and for what? The Princess had been killed, and so Terminia went to war. In that war a man’s daughter was killed, and that man in turn killed a child here. Death begets death, and that world beyond Celeste’s marble walls was so full of it. She had been foolish to think that she could stop that cycle, could make a difference.

She was only a girl. A silly girl who thought she could make a difference in a world that had abandoned their gods. A world that had failed and caused the Great Tree to burn. Was that why the Ethinia had shown her that vision? To remind her of how her people had fallen so low? To make Celeste see why they were cursed to live outside the Pantheon’s grace?

Celeste closed her eyes and tried her best not to think about her dream. Daemons and burning trees. Had that been the beginning of this cycle? She thought numbly as slumber began to take her once more. Had the burning of the Great Tree, the Abandonment itself, been the start of this unending cycle of death?

“Mother…” She whispered under her breath to Ethinia, “please show me what to do Mother…” As rest took her, and images of kinder things began to seep into her vision, she realized on thing. As she tugged the silk sheets around her small, frail form, Celeste couldn’t help but feel that the world beyond those cold marble walls was so incredibly large and scary, and she was so very, very small.