At the Cavern Entrance Nysa and Kyra froze mid-stride, a shiver racing down their spines, their Warrior Three link with Otonia silent and cold.

Avoiding Nysa and Kyra, Korinna rushed to Zosime, while Hagne attended to Otonia. The evil radiating from the two tombs now subdued, even defeated and given their previous exposure coupled with their concern for their two injured sisters the Assassins Seers ignored the fear with aplomb.

Korinna knelt beside of Zosime, urgently loosening the chest armour straps, the relief immediate as Zosime’s lungs greedily filled with air.

“Thank-you sister,” said Zosime, her words laboured as she sat up.

Korinna held out her hands and heaved Zosime to a standing position. Zosime stepped slowly, breathing a rasping pant.

“Steady sister or your head will spin,” advised Korinna.

Nysa and Kyra joined Hagne at Otonia’s side after the assassin unstrapped the hardened leather greave from Otonia’s shin. Nysa examined the grieve, the leather cut through, the inlayed steel deflecting the missile and thereby protecting the bone.

Blood spurted from the wound in pulses, Hagne immediately applying her hands to stem the flow.

Nysa responded without hesitation; tying a tourniquet around Otonia’s thigh to stem the blood loss.

“How does a Judge Knight know first aid?” asked Kyra peering at the wound.

“Hold the tourniquet in place I will try to bind the wound directly,” said Hagne, wiping her non-bloody forearm across her forehead. Hagne knew the bone underneath at least scored, if deep, air, blood and marrow would mix; not in a helpful way.

Zoe placed bandages and fresh water beside Hagne. “Will I start a small fire, we may need to cauterize the wound, the depth … I mean, well just in case.” Zoe knew the wound could easily be fatal, it could colour, poisoning the blood, leading to a slow and agonising death.

Hagne wrapped the wound in bandage cloth several times over, nodding to Nysa to slowly release the tourniquet. No blood saturated the bandage so Hagne asked Zoe to remove Otonia’s boot and when done she pressed her toes to ensure blood reached them, white when squeezed and coloured when released.

Hagne rocked back onto her bottom, wiping her bloodied hands and relaxing somewhat. Nysa removed the tourniquet completely and examined the bandage meeting Zoe over the wound site doing the same thing. The huntress amazed such a deep wound clogged up without cauterizing or at least stitching. The women of her tribe enjoyed both when they needed to administer to a wounded trapper, their squealing pain like a song, enjoying the opportunity to hush at them and call them less than men.

Korinna returned and assisted Hagne and Kyra in a three person carry of Otonia. Initially to the Inner Cavern, eventually to the House where Clymene and Ismene could fuss over her. Nysa placed the injured leg into the crook of Hagne’s arm and then the three sisters lifted Otonia. Everyone paused, while Nysa inspected the bandage for bleeding, waiting for her to wave the all clear. Nysa silently concerned about their weak Warrior Three link, the obvious explanation being Otonia’s unconscious state and the grievous wound.

Carefully, step by step the three carried Otonia towards the passageway. Zoe returned to her watch while Nysa’s eyes followed Otonia’s body being carried away. Her sight penetrated the blood, examined the depth of the torn flesh, sliced muscle and the shallow scoring on her shin bone. Her mind filled with an awakening, or perhaps a calling from Judge, she only needed to reach for the revelation, call upon her devotion, to grasp for the miracle.

Her faith in Judge confirmed within her at an early age when she knew and recognised evil. Not bad behaviour or criminal behaviour, the evil a person carried in their heart, to slay for the joy of it, to plan the demise of others for pleasure, torture and other such nefarious deeds. Since ordination, filled with the Light of Judge she protected her sisters from fear and with faith turned back servants of evil. While his light comforted her, she needed to grow and discover what further miracles Judge could grant his Knight.

“Nysa! Nysa!” Three voices shouted at her, breaking her inner reflection, her moment. Her lidded eyes turned to her sisters in slow motion as Otonia’s body floated down to the stone floor. Her leg oozing blood, her bandage saturated. Korinna preparing a tourniquet, Kyra scrabbling for fresh bandages, while Hagne applied pressure to the wound to stem the flow of blood, discarding bloodied bandages to one side thinking she needed to do better next time, if not too late to be granted the chance. Thoughts of self-blame seeping into her state of mind.

In long strides, trancelike Nysa approached Otonia, waving a gibbering non-resistant Hagne away, placing her own hands upon the bare wound, blood spilling over her fingers. Her eyes closed, she called upon her faith, visualising the blood-filled wound, the torn flesh, the sliced muscle and the scored bone, convincing them to renew, knit and calcify respectfully, blood being the carrier and her faith being the catalyst.

---

“Quiet, someone approaches,” hissed Lysisa.

Niobe, Alexa and Dione knowingly nodded while Latona put her back to a nearby merlon and readied her crossbow.

Lysisa hugged the cliff face and advanced towards the scrapping and scuffing.

“Hold sister, your Mistress approaches,” called Astera.

Lysisa paused, confused, how did her Mistress know of her presence? Quickly realising this would be another mystery she gave away caution and returned to the light of the lanterns and torches upon the Northern Wall.

“Alexa, do you have a solution?” asked Astera.

“Yes Mistress, with Dione’s help, well her stallion’s we can set the required width and then refine the slope.”

“Good, now I need you and your twin to catch some sleep. We still have tomorrow to guard against.”

The twins beat a hasty retreat, glad to be away from a possible confrontation.

“Lysisa while on guard duty please train Latona in Spear and Shield, she is capable with crossbow and needs to expand her weapon use. Stay at this post until relieved, although I am not sure when that will be. Niobe, I ask you to stay as well.”

“Yes Mistress, I will keep both in line.” A good-natured grin spreading across her face.

Dione waited, arms crossed, silent and above the conversations thus far, therefore Astera decided to rip the scab from the wound and plainly order her.

“Dione, you will rest and then after middle of the day scout out the position of the Walking Dead, their trail should be easy enough to follow. Once you are certain of their direction of travel ride to Farstay to meet your sisters. They should be waiting for you as I plan to send them using the Shrine of Saph and ride the last of our horses stabled there. Any questions?”

Dione’s jaw dropped, her hands trying to express words and of course failing. Her stallion pulling her back to her senses before complete embarrassment.

“No, Mistress, after fifth bell I will ride in pursuit and report to Farstay and hopefully lead my sisters to the Dark Priest.”

“Good.”

Blood drained from Niobe’s face. “Mistress you need to hurry back to the Main Cavern, it is Otonia, they can’t stop her bleeding.”

Astera’s face dropped, her eyes momentarily closing. She then raced away, Thyia trailing behind. Lysisa accepting of another mystery.

---

A bright beacon of sunshine pierced the darkness of the Cavern and humbled the pathetic light cast by either lantern or torch. Astera instinctively raised her arm to shadow her eyes and mid movement, slowed and then lowered her arm. The light engulfed her eyes to carry a warmth and welcome into her body, reaching her heart and soul. The source easily discernible; Nysa, her hands bright, fingers an undefined reddish blur. Astera’s mouth dropped slowly, words forming in her mind, failing to reach her lips.

Thyia equally frozen in place by the spectacle. The slowly fading light brought all of the Sisters in the Main Cavern back to their senses, shortly after animated in movement and jibber searching for explanation and understanding. Then silence as Nysa’s crimson hands floated away from Otonia’s leg. A heartbeat passed, her eyes fixed in a blank stare as her body rolled back, slumping over in a collapsed heap, bloody hands painting her armour in red snail trails.

Kyra’s look of adoration vanished, bandages spilling from her limp grasp and immediately dropping to Nysa’s side. Her hands finding new purpose, slapping Nysa’s cheeks.

“No Nysa! What have you done?” Her Warrior Three link to Nysa and Otonia now a hazy memory.

Korinna, kneeling beside Otonia held the untied tourniquet limply in her hand, her eyes darting between Otonia and Nysa at a total loss. Hagne’s guilt searched for reprieve finding a new purpose, to inspect and treat the wound properly this time, to correct her previous failure. The blood pulsed no longer from the wound. Frowning, she used the bloodied bandages to gently wipe the blood on Otonia’s leg away, cautiously splashing water from the nearby water trough to clear the last bloody smears.

“Water … please,” Otonia asked, her voice shallow, desperate.

Using her hands Hagne cupped water into her sister’s mouth, the sipping and slurping loud in the silence, although occasionally competing with sobs of anguish from Kyra her senses overwhelmed by the loss of connection to Nysa and moments after the re-established connection to Otonia within their Warrior Three bond.

Astera and Thyia washed the blood from Nysa’s hands and armour while Kyra, staring, wide-eyed, betrayed mixed emotions. When done Astera dragged a willing Kyra into a three-person carry of Nysa to the Inner Cavern still unconscious to eventually lay her on a bunk.

“Kyra, dribble water into her mouth, I suspect our Judge Knight has overexerted herself.” Astera met Kyra’s red, moist eyes with a confident warm smile and a comforting pat on her shoulder. To Astera, Nysa’s heart beat strongly and her chest swelled and receded with each breath; good signs. While not certain of Nysa’s method of healing, she knew of Charis’ and rest for the practitioner usually the best way forward.

Their moment shortly broken with an arrival, of sorts.

“I can walk or limp I tell you,” insisted Otonia.

“No sister let Hagne piggyback you,” said Korinna.

“We would have walked either side of you except the passageway isn’t wide enough and your leg only looks healed,” added Hagne, slightly breathless.

The three entered the Inner Cavern, Otonia protesting while on Hagne’s back, with Korinna dancing around the two of them arms spread, trying to catch or herd or at worst pretend to help. Kyra eventually joined Astera and Thyia in a quiet chuckle as the three visitors finally landed on a bunk.

“I am perfectly fine, I feel perfectly fine,” protested Otonia.

“Rest, I command it. There will be work enough for you and everyone tomorrow, although dawn can’t be far away,” yawned Astera.

“If I must …”

“Korinna and Hagne to the House, wash, eat and sleep. I will wake you or perhaps someone else will when required.”

“If we must …” Both Assassin Sisters giggling through their words, mocking Otonia.

“Don’t run away, you only delay my revenge,” shouted Otonia after them.

“Thyia, stay and keep watch.” Astera eying Otonia in particular. “Make sure the three rest.”

Zosime, about to climb out of her bunk, sheepishly slid back under the covers. Nysa continued to lay motionless on her bunk, with Kyra hovering over her, then shifting to one side while Otonia begrudgingly lay in a spooned position behind the Judge Knight. Satisfied, Astera strode, head up towards the Inner Cavern entrance leading to the House.

---

Each step towards her destination a struggle, the incline a factor certainly, her tiredness due to being awake for many bells to blame also, although in all honestly, she didn’t want to confront the person she must. As Mistress her duty clear though, in desperate battle all are expected to contribute, no exceptions and Astera needed to question the loyalty of one who, shirked their responsibility.

The Stone Cabin in the Elder’s Cavern rested silently. The Borrow Gem’s gifted vision of the cavern illuminating in shades of grey, tending to darkness. Astera rested drawing up courage, deep breath, hands broke from fidgeting and one last check of her weapons. The quiet silence ended unexpectantly with the swing of the cabin’s door, the elder obviously knew of her approach. The time wasting though; the clever woman would draw an advantageous conclusion. Astera released her deep breath and marched forth to confront the wily … old lady. The word crone surfaced briefly, quickly dismissed.

Within the doorframe Astera’s hand reached for support, her lips drawn thin. Before her an unrecognisable skin on bones elderly woman struggled to lift off bed covers to escape the confines of her bunk. After the second attempt, a tear, unbidden moistened Astera’s eye. How could this be?

“Lay back elder … I … didn’t realise your condition.”

All struggle ceased, the elder’s face relaxing after the fruitless battle. Her sunken eyes fixed upon the ceiling.

The whisper in the elder’s voice drew Astera inside the cottage. “I sent the twins away, so they could not witness me die, the young should never see death.” She coughed, thin frame shaking. “I have lent on magic, to forgo sleep, to research, some unwisely.” Her lips creaked into the shape of a smile, nothing more. “I devoted my last moments to teaching before I needed to pay the price. I see your face, don’t morn for me, most of my life a torment of wishful thinking, magic out of my grasp and then I met a boy, really a girl and my wish came true.”

The pit of Astera’s stomach betrayed her, bile rising up, overwhelming guilt, how could she even suspect let alone truly consider the elder would shirk her duty, never a possibly … her absence easily explained … the ultimate, being near death. Astera remembered loitering outside the cabin trying to draw up the courage to berate the elder, considering the words which needed to be spoken and the possible … punishment. Instead a harsh truth awaited, the elder clinging to life. The shameful moment of realisation tore at her; a wound unable to be healed by Charis or Nysa, heavy and grievous. Astera rushed to the elder’s bedside, her hands stretching out to grasp and yet afraid. The elder’s hands made of parchment thin skin, bones protruding, stretching against their forced enclosure.

“Is there anything anyone can do?”

“Perhaps Charis, her healing is beyond flesh and bone, it includes your spirit and lifts you, but it is still magic and could easily hasten my death as not.” A sneaky smile leaked, which Astera appreciated.

“For us much younger sisters it has an additional affect!” Astera winked.

“Yes.” A pause to send a smile of remembrance. “It bound you to her for another reason, but I doubt another reason was really needed. Charis is special in a special way that the world will eventually appreciate. Still, I apologise my frailty could not allow me to assist you and your sisters more directly tonight.” The elder drew in a scratchy breath.

“We received some unexpected help both ordinary and divine that eventually allowed us to hope to see the light of the next day.”

The elder’s head inclined slightly in a nod of sorts, her eyes never leaving the ceiling.

“I assumed you did well enough without me, otherwise I believe you would be rescuing me while talking harshly to me,” she croaked.

Astera opened her mouth to protest and then closed it, thankful the elder didn’t check her reaction.

“I have prepared the twins to take over from me, they either have some of my knowledge or they know how to acquire it once I am gone if they study the books and tomes I have left behind. My days and nights spent telling them the words to write, passing on my family legacy as I am the last.”

The elder drew into herself and became deathly silent, her chest’s battle to rise and fall pausing and Astera’s hand hovering, uncertain. After several heartbeats, although to Astera a lifetime the elder sucked in a breath and continued.

“So, if they can’t read it, then they’re to blame.” A coughing laughter followed.

“Given your certainty …” Astera paused respectfully in case of a last moment protest, striving to hold back the need to release her grief. “How would you like to be honoured when the time comes elder?” Warm tears flowed down burning cheeks, quickly wiped away with the back of her hand.

“You will not have to do anything. The magic you see is consuming my body. I will just cease to be. I would be satisfied if you would be so kind to carry me to the roof of the House so I could cease under the light of the sun.”

“It would be my honour.” Tears begun anew.

Astera peeled back the covers, a sharp intake of breath, the sight before her, impossible. Withered skin clung to bone, no substantial flesh between, the elder truly eaten from the inside as her thin clothing draped over her rib cage clinging to a non-existent waist poking out again at the hip bone. Steeling herself, hands and arms eased their way forward under the elder’s prone body. Straightening, an easier than expected lift, the elder now in the crook of her arms. Already a smallish thin person and now without the usual flesh, Astera held a husk and realising this she hurried, hopeful the elder would exist until dawn.

“At least I am not that heavy a burden dear,” she quipped.

The passageway walls flashed by, the entrance to other caverns ignored. Climbing the steps to the trapdoor Astera prepared to shift the elder into the crook of one arm when the way cleared. Light shone upon them and Ismene’s face balked at the sight of persons climbing when she thought to descend. Upon spying Astera carrying the elder’s frail body a hundred questions passed through her mind, mouth about to open, the Mistress’s head motioned side to side. Into the House proper and Clymene nowhere to be seen, fortunate thought Astera, what one Seer observed they all soon shared. The elder needing a peace and not a fuss at the end, although unconfirmed as the elder didn’t respond any longer to questions.

Ismene sprinted ahead once Astera veered towards the circular stairs confirming her destination. The roof trapdoor thrown back, Astera and her promise quickly stepped upon the roof. An unusual bright dawn sunlight greeted them, thin snow upon the roof, although no longer falling. The first bell of the day rang clear across the town. The sunlight kissed the elder’s flesh where possible, wakening her, perhaps recuperating her former well-being.

In a weak voice she asked, “Naked please, the sunlight …”

Astera untied her corded pants and easily slipped them off, no loin cloth underneath. Her shirt front never tied, only tucked into her pants parted at the front and first one arm and then the other extracted, leaving the garment to fall over Astera’s lap and remain there.

“Not much to look at now, I’ll warrant but, in my day, I needed to swat them away with a stick. I didn’t know how badly I needed to learn magic, hopeless then. I should have begat a daughter or perhaps several instead … regret …”

The dawn sunlight flooded over the elder’s flesh, Astera happy to cradle and allow the dying woman to reminisce to her heart’s content, recalling the early days with Charis seemingly satisfied with an adopted daughter. They lounged away the moments for two bells, the oldest sister secure within the arms of one of the youngest sisters.

“Thank you, all is forgiven,” the elder whispered. The token weight of her body at rest now nothing. Astera’s arms visible to her as the flesh and bone once upon them vanished, the body’s owner finally consumed by the magic she worshipped. Astera lingered to morn her loss alone, snow no longer present to dull the clunk as each Item escaped the elder’s shirt to fall to the floor. Each fall ringing a death bell in Astera’s mind, aggravating her pre-existing heartfelt wound and awakening a terrible grief inside her. Two synchronised gasps alerted her to unannounced company and prevented her from unleashing her anguish.

Like waking, her head rose to focus upon the source and before identified, Clymene and Ismene leapt upon her, hugging and kissing, murmuring words of comfort and support. Shortly after wailing themselves, sharing their grief as did all the Seers in the Seer Circle Clymene established while waiting and observing with Ismene. Each Seer fell upon a non-Seer sister to embrace and explain their grief and the cause.

---

Lysisa confused when a sobbing Niobe opened her arms to her, accepting once a red eyed Latona nodded in her direction.

“My feelings aren’t my own, they are the combined grief of many. I cannot say more, except to announce the elder, who helped and taught many has now passed from us and many sisters grieve,” sobbed Niobe.

---

The Seers agreed Zosime would inform the Goblin Sisters, Thais and Alexa grief stricken beyond coherence. They, like their sisters not privy to the elder’s condition, the old woman hid behind a mystery condition called old age, resorting to bouts of shouting when the twins enquired too deeply.

The three semi-naked Goblin Sisters splashed freezing cold water upon each other just beyond the Cavern Entrance. Zosime observing their innocent play after bells of toil, not a single walking dead husk remained behind the walls. The three stared at Zosime as one, trapping her in their gaze. Zosime wiping her eyes in reaction, trying to discover how they knew. Not the specifics of course, only an air of dismay surrounding Zosime, the messenger.

The three waited, eyes fixed and yet bodies fidgeting, Zosime acutely aware she needed to take the first step and yet her feet as herself, laboured, weighed down by grief.

---

The outpouring of emotion overwhelming, Clymene especially shattered as the Seer Circle expressed their remorse as one through her, grabbing for Astera like a lifeline, trying to hang on to someone real after witnessing the consumption of the elder by the very magic they wield. Astera acutely aware the Daughters of the Duchess and especially the Seers needed to endure, to move past this terrible loss.

Astera’s eyes caught Ismene’s, the Provedore comprehending immediately and drawing away from their three-way hug. Astera forcefully grabbed Clymene, a hand on each side of her head, looking fully into her red wide-eyed face, a finger width separating their noses.

“Enough! We must, by need continue, the elder would want us to celebrate and remember her life, not be made useless by the morning of her death!”

Clymene squeezed her eyelids down, tears and sobs continued unabated. Astera shook Clymene’s head until her eyes opened. Astera mouthed the word ‘celebrate’.

“Yes Mistress,” cried Clymene.

Their Mistress’ wishes spread quickly across the Seer Circle and as one they each remembered an elder encounter, sharing, their collective memory converting grief into a celebration of the elder’s life, her grouchy ways, creations and understandings. Then each Seer shared as much as possible with a non-Seer sister nearby or struggling in the quiet by their own.

“Clymene ask Niobe to send Lysisa to the Meeting Room, we have much to discuss and she has proven her loyalty.” Keep busy, move forward, progress thought Astera.

Caught out by the mundane command, Clymene nodded while wiping her eyes. Ismene embraced the Seer Sister and guided her down the step ladder. Astera caught Ismene’s sympathetic look, answering with a forced smile to reassure her.

Astera leant heavily against the rail surrounding the viewing platform on top of the House, stretching muscles cramped and worn, trying to wake her body. Her mind needing to be clear, to ensure the loss of the elder a celebration of her life and deeds, not an excuse for hopelessness and failure. Did the elder sense Astera’s inner turmoil? Forgiveness her final word.

Glancing down during a stretch, a golden circle glint and winked in the sunlight at her feet. Astera counted seven Items recovered before satisfied no more could be found and dropped into thought, are seven too many for one person and their body to endure.

---

“Our great teacher is dead, we accept this truth, for death can only occur if someone has first lived,” said Bluefingers, bowing her head.

“We will honour her teachings by teaching others and using what she has taught us to protect our sisters and ensure our enemies tremble before us,” said Prettynose, a hand curling into a fist.

Sweetears, meeting Zosime’s red-eyed gaze, finished, “We will remember her name when we celebrate victory and we will call her name when hope is almost lost to emboldened us to find more within ourselves. She made us greater when she didn’t have to, liberated us from being skinny helpless creatures, always afraid, we will never forget her.”

Zosime couldn’t contain her emotions, the Seer Circle now bombarding her with stories of the elder instead of grief. The Goblin Sisters accepting death and swearing in action and deed to honour their fallen teacher, how could she do no less and shared their words with the Seer Circle. A bright light of hope and future spread throughout the Seer Circle, fortifying them, revealing and extinguishing any darkness, instilling a shared confidence undefeatable and undeniable. Let the enemies of the Daughters of the Duchess tremble, from grief they bound all the tighter and from recovery they discovered strength yet untapped.

“Thanks to our teacher, we are strong sister!”

Zosime not sure which Goblin Sister spoke, too focused on surviving as the three sisters threw her into the air and caught her, while laughing. Distracted by the Seer Circle for but a moment they must have grappled her and begun the game. In between other concerns she learnt they mended her chest armour, pride emanating from their smiling faces.

“Goblins always face death, so when alive we learn to survive. Our teacher has made us great and now we wish to live to the fullest!”

---

Astera scoped up a dollop of stew with her stale bread and finished swallowing as Lysisa cracked open the Training Room door. When waved in she quietly and carefully closed the door behind her. Taking a step forward, she hesitated and spun around to lean her shield and spear to the right of the doorway. Eyes down she approached the Mistress of the Daughters of the Duchess, the bandages on her light wounds, mostly scratches, removed. Two more serious wounds bound firmly with clean bandages.

Astera dragged herself up, a muscle or two protesting, rising from her chair to greet their battle-hardened Novice.

“I thank-you for your timely assistance and your restraint.”

Lysisa quirked an eyebrow, Astera cracked a tired smile.

“I know you have many questions, if you don’t, I would be surprised and ask you to leave, proven a dullard for sure. You aren’t a dullard are you Novice Lysisa?”

“No Mistress!” Voice raised, hand flashing to cover her mouth.

“Never be ashamed of conviction. I would invite you to become an Initiate given your demonstration of loyalty and service if you wish to find a place amongst us?”

A happiness and joy reached Lysisa’s eyes, bubbling out in a scream of delight, her head nodding feverishly. Remembering herself she dropped to one knee, quickly reciting her oath.

“I swear to serve and be loyal to the Daughters of the Duchess until my death or no longer able. I swear to keep this oath and never break it under pain of death.”

“Stand please, you must understand, the Initiate oath must be taken naked, symbolic of you casting off your past life and now fully embracing your new life.” Astera examined Lysisa’s face as the Novice’s mind swept through the various considerations.

A feeble utterance escaped her lips, “Naked?”

“Before many, probably middle of the day, as many gather to wish Dione on her way …”

Lysisa gulped and then straightened her shoulders.

“I understand and welcome witness to the swearing of my oath.”

Lysisa fled the Training Room, closing the door with a slight rattle. Astera waited. The door quietly opened, Lysisa stretching out for her spear and shield, grabbing the shield knocking the spear away.

“Come in Sister I won’t bite.”

Her spear recovered, Lysisa bowed towards Astera and retired red-faced.

---

Astera almost fell from her chair, the third shove particularly determined.

“Sorry Mistress, you nap heavily,” said Clymene.

Astera’s head firmly upon the table in the Meeting Room asleep prior, while some would rudely mention her snoring. Her eyes blinked several times, hands reaching to clear them and then extend into a stretch on the end of her arms. Ismene taking the opportunity to wash down any exposed flesh, particularly under the arms. Astera slowly stood, giving in. The Seer and the Provedore washed in earnest.

“You have Dione eager to be on her way and an Initiate to welcome into the Daughters of the Duchess and both wait for you in the Inner Cavern.” The rushed toned in Clymene’s voice revealing her frustration.

Waving her arms Ismene added, “You should have dozed off in your bed, or perhaps a bunk in the White Room, not this, Mistress.”

Astera closed her eyes while standing allowing her two taskmasters to attend to her. Too soon a wet rag rubbed down her face, breaking her relaxing trance into a grimace.

“Don’t you growl at us, we are here helping,” said Clymene, as she stepped back to assess their efforts.

“Well better I guess, the perfumed water will cover any missed smells,” assured Ismene.

About to open her mouth and ask, they both bundled her towards the door.

“Hurry Mistress, Thyia awaits at the trapdoor, you must hurry to the Inner Cavern.”

Astera paused. “Tell the gathered the send-off and ceremony will be held in the Elder’s Cavern.”

“Yes Mistress,” replied Clymene.