The truth of her

our Sorrowful Mother.

Of who she truly was,

beyond the legends.

-The Gospel according to the Holy First Handmaiden

The days following Celeste’s initial awakening at the temple proceeded in much the same way as her first had. She would wake up, ask questions, and be lulled to sleep with little in the way of answers. Every day she would ask for the bishop, and every day she would be told he had “just left.” Not that she particularly believed them.

Her new handmaidens seemed to regard Celeste with a frustrating combination of reverence and obligation. Frustrating, because it seemed to make them treat her as an invalid and often completely ignore any of her requests. No matter what she asked, from information about her friends to sweets from the kitchen, she was met with a shake of the head and “Please rest Your Radiance.” So, Celeste did.

She had trouble staying asleep through the night though, images of daemons and the burning tree haunting her every time she closed her eyes. So often she would find herself alone in that huge bed that dwarfed her, staring out towards the shuttered window, wishing she could bask in Ethinia’s light. Perhaps then she would know what to do.

On her third restless night, Celeste awoke to a dimly lit room. The few thin beams of moonlight seeping in through the small holes in the fine silver-plated shutters. Even with the limited light, Celeste was able to make out her attendants for the night, two young Sherya initiates fast asleep on the various silk and cushion covered long benches around the room.

Celeste smiled at those two. They had been kind to her in the day, even if they had been scolded firmly when they had held Celeste’s hand. The older Sherya handmaiden who oversaw her care seemed to believe Celeste was a porcelain statuette, and she the one to keep it polished. Still, as Celeste looked over at the two resting girls, she saw her chance. Three nights was far too long for her not to see the First Mother’s shining presence.

Slipping out of bed with care, Celeste felt the cool marble floor on her feet. She was careful as she slipped across the floor, gently creeping past porcelain vases and gilded statuettes. Reaching the window, Celeste settled into the small alcove, climbing it with care, and pulled the well-oiled shutters open with all the grace of an alley cat approaching a fishmonger’s untended wares.

Relief washed over Celeste as the window opened and the First Mother’s light bathed her. It felt like a shower of cool silver that soothed her worries. Celeste bit her lip and stared up at Her. She was waning now, a sliver of darkness cresting Her glowing form.

“Why did you show me the tree Mother?” Celeste whispered, images of screaming Sherya and burning boughs crashing through her mind. Celeste frowned and swallowed as if to put the image down, but she never took her eyes off the Goddess above.

She sat there a long while like that, staring up at Ethinia in the night. She had read a treatise once, years ago now, by an academy magus who believed that the moon above was a place; a physical location one could travel to. He had been met with ridicule at best and downright hostility at worst, but Celeste found that idea comforting. She knew the moon was not really the Mother Herself as some under educated might wrongly believe. Anyone who had read the Book of the Dawn knew better than that. But it was a part of Ethinia, Her silver lantern for weary travellers and resting children. As the Father shone bright in the day to watch over His children, so too did the Mother at night, keeping vigilance when Her beloved children were most vulnerable. You will look to the dark sky and see my lantern. The scripture said. And you will know that I am there, watching over you always. Celeste looked up at that lantern in the sky and felt Her presence in every touch of Ethinia’s gentle light.

***

It was the next morning that her father finally came to visit. He warned her from the start that he didn’t have much time, something about the Golden Hammer needing his counsel, but she was still happy to see his stern face. With what little time they had, she was able to find out what happened to her friends.

Valleresa had been sent back to her father, having left the church when the Bishop denied access to Celeste. Apparently Valleresa had cursed the bishop out and stomped away. Still though, it was unlikely she had returned to her father. Celeste had only heard bits, but she knew there was little love lost between Valleresa and the viscount. Celeste made a mental note to investigate it more when she could.

As for Gardinal, he had received a promotion apparently. Celeste had remembered something like that, had remembered Gardinal calling out to her about being taken away. Or perhaps that was another dream, one that she would prefer not to remember. When she asked to invite him back to visit, her father seemed unconvinced that he would return. Saying that Gardinal was surely too busy at the old temple, getting their Faith Militia up to the status of this temple’s. She was proud for her friend, if sad that he was too busy for her. Somehow, Celeste had hoped her guardian would always be there next to her. A fool’s hope it seemed, for a fool girl.

Celeste hadn’t had a chance to ask about Vallerian, Arabella, or Kriss however before the Bishop had to return to his duties, leaving Celeste alone once more. Her father must have approved of her health though, for before long Celeste was back to her own duties as well.

The days passed by quickly then. A blur of reading books that she had read a thousand times, of speaking with priests and priestesses and having her every word recorded for posterity. She would spend long hours participating in the various rituals beholden to her office.

On one occasion, as Celeste prayed before the Relic Tree that sat at the heart of the temple – A cutting of a cutting of a cutting from the First Tree that traced all the way back to just after the Abandonment– Celeste couldn’t help but wonder how many people they could have fed beyond those marble walls. Or how many people the dozens of fruits that grew from the tree itself could feed, instead of just being let to fall to the soil beneath. The fruits would decompose, and a sweet scent always filled the air around the tree. A sweet scent that seemed to smother any feelings of wastefulness anyone might have on letting the fruit rot there. Well, anyone but Celeste.

What if she had placed those fruits at Tabitha’s feet instead? To be given out by her Silver Skulls to the people of the street? Or the Ga’Na’s? To feed the Korek? Or perhaps it was best the way it was, the way her father had decided as right. She had only caused trouble the last time she attempted to help the Silver Skulls, and with the Korek she had nearly gotten Rekiak and his bride killed. No, it was best she stayed within her walls. Once she had thought her gilded cage had been meant to protect her, but perhaps it was to protect the world from her. Perhaps.