And Oonya was born, Mistress of Storms, Goddess of Perseverance

To instruct their Children of persistence against adversity.

And to show them the ways of the seas, and all the gifts within it.

Loose was born, Divine Cupbearer, God of Honesty

To make their children laugh and sing and brew.

And to teach them the values of Truth, and all its worth.

-Book of the Dawn 1;31-36

In a bleary daze, Celeste thought she saw the face of an old friend. Warm brown eyes behind dirty matted golden hair. He had been her closest companion living on the streets of Southshore. He was grinning with two stolen bread rolls in hand. He had such a wonderful smile. In that hazy moment, she could not help but wonder where he had gone. He had promised he would always be there for her.

“Your Radiance, are you alright?” One of her handmaidens tore her from her reverie, from that mesmerizing image of someone she loved. Someone she missed. She felt a wetness in her eyes. Had she been crying?

“I am well sister, just a dream.” A beautiful dream. Celeste stretched as she awoke, feeling her skin pass over the cool silk sheets and fine velvet pillows. She lay among a sea of teal and white, the bedding overflowing the bed that dwarfed her. White eldyn-oak carved posts reached up around her, stretching towards high vaulted ceilings, glistening streamers cresting between those posts like silken waves. A few of her handmaidens rested upon the bed around her, a few still yet asleep themselves. A golden sunset illuminated her room through sheer curtains over an open window. From outside those windows, the scents of the lily-of-the-valley she had planted there only days ago wafted into the room. The gentleness almost beckoned her back to slumber once more.

She had fallen asleep immediately after returning to the temple, and apparently had slept most of the day away. Celeste felt a hand brushing through her hair, from the gentle but firm fingers running among her locks, she knew it to be Valleresa.

“You fuss too much in your sleep Radiance.” Valleresa playfully scolded her. “Wait here, I'll get the brush.” Valleresa rolled from the bed, crossing the room to a small oak chest that carried Celeste's hairbrush. The handmaiden moved with the characteristic lithe Fereni gait. In that moment it reminded her of the square, of Valleresa's brother with the same stride. Count Vallerian lingered in her mind. What an interesting man he was. He treated her like a knight from the romances. The ones she was not supposed to read but were snuck in by Valleresa regardless.

Vallerian did remind Celeste of his sister. That mischievous grin and carefree attitude seemed a family trait. No other handmaiden had ever dared ruffle her hair or laugh when she stumbled. Celeste appreciated that honesty, for at least in those moments she was just a person, not a holy prophetess whose presence demanded worship. It is not worship of you Celeste, she thought, but of the First Mother through you. It is a privilege, not a duty.

Her eyes followed her other handmaidens as they bustled about now, likely carrying word to the priests and scribes of her every move, or perhaps informing her father that she had awoken. She wished to know more about Vallerian, about what kind of man he was but she feared her father's reaction to such a fascination. The Bishop seemed to have an uncharitable view of the nobleman, but she knew he could be a harsh man.

Celeste was surrounded at all times by a flurry of motion, one that was almost as exhausting for her as channelling Ethinia’s own power could be. It was unlikely for her to ask anything without the Bishop finding out. Not with every handmaiden, priest, and acolyte constantly fussing about, anticipating, and preparing for her every need. It had forced Celeste to take great care of her every action and word, lest she bring more work onto the kind souls who attended her so well.

Valleresa, however, seemed to not care one bit about such proprieties as she crawled back into the bed to begin brushing Celeste's hair. She could ask her friend anything, she was sure, but how? She risked her father finding out from everyone else here. Celeste got an idea.

“Sisters, I have need to ponder and pray on today's terrible events.” Celeste announced. The women in the room all turned to her, even the scribe who sat in the corner, scribbling away at her every word. “I would like some literature from the library. To assist in such... pondering.” They all stared at her for a moment, most part way through various tasks.

“Your Radiance, of course we will do so. But... um... what particular literature were you looking for?” One of the handmaidens spoke, the incense in her hand not yet lit, sharing a confused look with her sisters. Celeste froze, she had not thought that far. Quickly she tried to think back on the attack, on the awfulness of what had happened earlier.

“The Chaos.” Valleresa cut in. Celeste turned her head to look at her friend, who raised her eyebrows as if to say Your turn now.

“Yes... um the Chaos.” Celeste stammered. “To know the darkness of men's hearts, is to know its root. I would like to read on the Chaos.” She would have to thank Valleresa for the quick thinking, Celeste always had been awful at misdirection, even on the streets. Besides, the literature they provided would actually make for an interesting read. At that they all nodded, each giving assurances of Your Radiance, and Of course Holy Prophetess as they all filed out the room. All save Valleresa, and the scribe. The older woman scribbling away at her little roll of parchment. She was a Sherya of the Arrahunya clan, the gold blonde hair and aquamarine eyes marking her lineage. Those gifted by Seratos with the skills of governance. From Celeste's own blonde hair, she seemed to have some of that blood herself.

“Dear Sister, I believe it was the Bishop of Kings Erethanus IV who said, ‘Many hands make light work.’” Celeste tried her best to keep a proper smile on her face as the scribe hastily wrote away. Looking down, the scribe stared at the words and stopped, finally understanding what she had just recorded. Slowly raising her eyes to Celeste, the scribe pointed to herself with a confused look on her face. Celeste gave her a gentle nod of confirmation.

“Of course, Your Radiance.” She managed to stammer out as she followed suit behind the others; Celeste grinned. She almost never got alone time with Valleresa, and this would likely only last a few brief moments until the first of them returned with armfuls of books.

“So.” Valleresa began. “what did you want to talk about?”

Celeste did not have to look at her handmaiden to know she was smiling. It seemed Valleresa had grown to know her well. How blessed she was to have a friend so close.

“Your brother. I think I wish to know more about this Count Vallerian.” Celeste asked sheepishly. Laughter cascaded from Valleresa.

“That idiot? He's somehow a bigger mess up than I am.” she managed to spit out through the laughter. Celeste glowered at that, it pained her that her friends could not see themselves how she saw them.

“Lady Valleresa, I beg of you. Do not disparage yourself or your kin in that way. Your brother seemed a perfect gentleman today.”

“He sure had you fooled.” she chuckled.

“You go too far Valleresa.” Celeste admonished her. Valleresa sighed and rolled her eyes. “Now please, tell me about him.” Celeste waited, feeling a sense of hesitation from her handmaiden as the brush in her hair slowed.

“I... I'm not honestly sure what to say Radiance. I haven't seen him in three years, not since he wedded that Theremya countess.” Valleresa had a touch of distaste in her voice, but Celeste ignored it. She never saw how people could be incensed at the unification of two peoples. The Theremya clan of the Sherya were children of the Tree just as any of the other clans. Any man who would wed to bring two peoples closer together must surely be a kind one.

“What of his wife? How is...” Celeste was cut off by the door opening. Had her handmaidens returned so soon? “My sisters, you show haste…” she began but stopped as a young priest entered the room.

He was a handsome young Sherya. His long blonde hair in small braids with brilliant aquamarine eyes marking him Arrahunya. She recognized him. “Brother Leseral, a blessed surprise it is to see you. How the Mother gifts us with such unexpected meetings.” She smiled at him; he had always been quiet but kind to her. A newly ordained priest, he still looked uncomfortable in his large white vestments. She watched his eyes meet hers and his face formed a gnarled mess of emotions. “What ails you, my child?” she asked, concern rising. Valleresa stopped brushing. Glancing at her, Celeste could see her muscles tensing.

Stepping into the room, he shifted a marble washbasin against the door, lodging it in place with shaking hands. He was muttering too low to hear, with unfocused eyes. Celeste's heartbeat faster. Valleresa rose from her spot next to Celeste, stepping between the man and her.

“Brother Leseral? What is wro…” Valleresa words were cut short as the priest pulled a dagger from his long sleeves.

“…I have to kill you… He told me I have to kill you…” He muttered loudly and Celeste rose from her bed. Slowly resting her feet on the cold marble floor.

“Who would ask such terrible things of you?” She asked, slowly stepping closer. Valleresa pushed a hand back, keeping Celeste from moving far.

“…terrible things… you will herald terrible things…” His bloodshot eyes focused, locking with hers. Red bags hung around his twitching eyes and his lips quivered with every word. What pains him so? Her stomach sank; this man was sick, and she needed to help him. The priest shook as he slowly staggered towards her.

“You stay back.” Valleresa growled at the man, she wore only a simple silken shift but at that moment the Fereni woman looked a dangerous animal.

“Child of the Mother, there is never a need to kill I assure you.” Celeste shakily gave him a reassuring look. There would not be any more senseless violence today. Not one more soul would be tarnished today if she had her way. “Whatever is wrong, we can help you.” The priest stepped forward, almost at arm’s distance from Valleresa, ramblings escaping his dry cracked lips. Celeste stepped back now, away from the door and bed towards a tapestry-covered stone wall.

“...No way... No way out... Have to kill... He promised...” He mumbled low.

Valleresa leaped, her hands lunging for the man’s throat as Celeste could only scream. A stunned silence lingered in the room, as Valleresa stumbled to the side. She turned to Celeste, her mouth forming the words I'm sorry, as blood dripped from the long gash up through her shift. The crimson horror running from abdomen to left shoulder.

Celeste tore her eyes from her friend to look at the man once more. His hand held out wide with a dripping bloody dagger. Celeste swallowed hard. She would heal him. Surely he was sick and just needed healing. He moved towards her, and Celeste felt the power within her swelling. It was always there, that essence of the First Mother. It always waited, pressing against the dam, with only her control to keep it from exploding out in force. She would heal this man and he would be well. Then she could heal Valleresa. Everyone would be safe. As the man approached, dagger-less hand reaching out for her throat, Celeste let him grab her. Yes brother Leseral, come forth and be cleansed.

As his fingers wrapped around her throat, she released the flow. She let the power of the Most Merciful wash over her weary brother. It flowed from her in thick torrents of liquid light, pouring out of her and into his arm. She watched as his reddened eyes filled white, his cracked lips grew moist. Even the man's muscles seemed to grow stronger with her help.

Celeste's heart dropped as the man's grip only strengthened, the dagger in his other hand still shaking. She had failed.

“Valleresa.” Celeste gasped, looking to her friend, bloody, on the floor. The handmaiden was trying to crawl towards her. “No Valleresa, run.” she barely managed to croak under the priest's grasp.

With a strength he did not have before he pushed her hard. Her frail legs stumbled over a carpet as she was pushed across the room. With a sharp thud she felt her head crash against the tapestry-covered stone wall. A sharp stone edge dug roughly into her back. She felt his hand tighten against her throat

A sharp banging came at the door, both her, and her assailant's eyes shot to it.

“I'm sorry... so sorry... so... so sorry...” he begged as he returned his eyes to her, slowly moving the dagger down to her. Celeste felt a small sense of relief. If the Faith Militia could get to Valleresa then perhaps her wound could be seen to in time. Someone beat against the door hard. Shouts of The Prophetess! She is in danger! from the other side.

Celeste had no thoughts for her own danger. All was right, now that she knew her friend would be saved. No, in this moment she only cared for this man and his soul. Her Brother Leseral, who was in such anguish that she could not heal. He looked pained, his face contorted, tears streaming down his clenched jaw. Moving her hand slowly up, Celeste wrapped her slender fingers around those that grasped the dagger. She pulled it low, pressing the tip against the centre of her chest.

Behind the man, she saw Valleresa desperately heave the wash-basin free from the door, then collapsing to the ground. What a blessed woman she was! Faith Militia poured into the room. Each decked in thick plate armour with swords drawn at the ready. Celeste held her free hand up, they stopped. Then, she returned her gaze to the wayward soul in front of her.

“If this will truly bring you peace, so be it. Ethinia forgives all, and I forgive you.” His eyes widened and his lips quivered as he looked into her eyes. Celeste smiled.

The dagger dropped; the priest's hands fell limp as they slipped from Celeste's throat. He collapsed to the ground. Sliding down the wall beside him into a huddled shape, she cradled him. They wept together on the ground as he begged forgiveness. From her, from the First Mother, or from himself, Celeste did not know. But from her and Ethinia, Celeste knew there was nothing to forgive; there was no sin here, not so long as she could save Valleresa. Mere moments passed before the guards wrenched Brother Leseral free from her arm’s. The weeping priest's feet dangling as a large Fereni guard held the man aloft.

“My brothers, you will be gentle with this man. He has suffered greatly and deserves the Mother's Most Merciful care.” The guards shared confused looks before nodding confirmation.

“Of course, Your Radiance.” The large Fereni managed to respond, lowering the priest so that he stood on his own feet. Celeste smiled, crawling towards Valleresa who sat, back pressed against the wall beside the door frame. Blood still seeping through her gown. A few guards helped Celeste to her friend, and once more she let the Mother’s gift within press against her.

She felt it, like the waves of an ocean bashing against a seawall, shattering upon her. She cradled her dear friend’s head in her hands and let the wave crash through that wall. A brilliant light glowed in her hands, and Celeste smiled as she watched Valleresa's wounds close up in mere heartbeats. A beautiful warmth returned to Valleresa's face as her chest began to rise and fall in a steady rhythm once more. She had done it; she had saved everyone. What a blessed day.

Celeste fell unconscious.