Do not mourn my passing,

For I have lived a full life.

One far longer than I deserved.

-Note within the hidden journal.

Celeste awoke to the smothering care of her friends. She had slept for two full days after the night at the Mudport, and now they wouldn’t let her breathe on her own. Valleresa had brushed her hair nearly four times that first day and Arabella demanded to scrub Celeste down herself, instead of just letting her bathe normally. At least new books had been brought to her, and Gardinal hadn't even complained about her resting in her window nook. In fact, Gardinal had fawned over her nearly as much as her sisters; his guilt over the events at the Mudport plain. He would pray with her every morning and every night, in Sherya no less. He had even brought home bags of sweets from Silvermarket for her. She had tried to practice temperance with them. But looking over at the empty sweets sack on the table beside her, her failure was obvious.

As the week drew on, Celeste found the monotony of her life returning; with it came the thoughts she had been avoiding. Vallerian and Tabitha. There was an unease brought by thoughts of that woman. She felt a chill at the memory of Gardinal restraining her as Vallerian beat a helpless man bloody. It had been so terrible that she tried to convince herself it had been a bad nightmare. She wasn’t successful in her delusion.

Yet, in some way, she still missed Vallerian. She missed his charming grin and witty banter. There was a still a good soul there, she knew that. Was it right to push him away when perhaps what he needed was to be held closer?

Celeste looked across the small sitting room to Valleresa, his twin sister. She had thought them so similar at first. But despite outward appearances, Vallerian had proven far different. A much darker heart lay behind that facade of a gallant count. Had she dismissed him too hastily? Had she not told Arabella that the darkest corners needed the First Mother’s light the most?

“Valleresa.” Celeste spoke, drawing her handmaiden’s attention. “Was I too harsh with your brother?” Celeste watched as Valleresa rolled her eyes.

“Not harsh enough, Radiance.” She responded. “I don’t know what being among those Theremya did to him, but he’s certainly not how I remember.” Valleresa shook her head and muttered as she returned to the needlework she was plucking away at. Her brother had been a sore topic for her the past few days.

Celeste looked down at her own diversion, an old Archmagi’s study on the connection of arcane energy to that of Renya's gifts. Normally Celeste would have found it a fascinating read, but today she had re-read the first chapter seven times. She sighed and looked out the window that formed half of her reading nook.

It had been raining for days, the street outside Gardinal’s home was now little more than a muddy pit for carts to get stuck in. Yet Southshore continued; in rain or sun the tenacity of these folk persisted. Celeste had grown to know the rhythms of this neighbourhood well. A Khazimi merchant trudging down the road with a mule-pulled cart of rusty pots told her the day of the week. The wives returning with bread told her the time of day. She let her eyes blur, watching the rain in front of her as it fell. These spring showers were a blessing from the First Mother and her daughter Oonya. The life this water would bring was nothing more than miraculous; she had always found the rain a comfort. Today though, it did little to calm her mind.

Celeste spotted a Jöln man striding along in Fereni clothing through the downpour. She had thought it to be Tabitha for a brief moment. Or perhaps she had wanted it to be her, as the woman weighed so heavily on her mind. Tabitha had proven herself strong and intelligent, but Celeste still wondered on the matters of her heart and soul. She wanted a reason to support the woman. But could she in good conscience?

Her mind kept returning to that tower. From what Celeste had seen of Tabitha’s home and of the surrounding neighborhood, it had seemed a place of refuge. A safe space for the commonfolk, with food and comfort for all. Is that the kind of community that Southshore could have? Celeste hadn’t agreed with many of the things she had seen there. But most of it had been love, not abuse or desperation. With that kind of support, Southshore could truly flourish.

The idea of a united Southshore was attractive to say the least. No more gang wars, no more needless suffering. In all Celeste’s life, the king had never worked at helping Southshore. Perhaps Tabitha could. She seemed to provide a sense of community for these people, one that was sorely needed. Could Celeste help Tabitha foster that? Nurture the good soul of Southshore?

Celeste thought back to their conversation, to what Tabitha had said to her. She had not lied, not as far as Celeste could tell. She had been honest with her intentions and had spoken to Celeste as an equal woman. That Celeste had certainly appreciated. Too long she had been silenced or held back by the men in her life. What Tabitha had said about men ruling rang all too true after the events with Vallerian and Gardinal at the docks.

As Celeste pondered, she fingered the thin parchment of her book. There was good there, but she knew what her father would say. That she dwelled too much on the good and missed the bad when it stared her in the face. If she was going to try to make a difference, try to support someone like this Tabitha, she needed to be sure it was only for good. But Tabitha seemed too intent on Celeste’s supposed power, and that left Celeste wary.

She had heard her father and Gardinal discussing it in hushed tones before. She also remembered how the nobles who came to the temple gawked at her eyes. They would always whisper among themselves conspiratorially. But power? That had never held any draw to her. But this Tabitha, this self-proclaimed slum queen, she acted as though Celeste already sat atop a throne. That, more than anything, left Celeste uncomfortable.

Looking at her book, Celeste thought on the Archmagus of the Academy. On the influence he wielded. There was more power in this city than just that of kings and lords. Power that she knew she already held. There was her position in the faith. To claim that she held no influence in the temple would only be lying to herself. Perhaps that was what Tabitha had meant, the support of the faith would certainly legitimize her efforts. Could Celeste do that? In good conscience tell the people of Southshore, tell her people, that this Tabitha was virtuous? That she held the blessing of the First Mother? She looked out the window again, watching those people trudge by in their daily toils. Celeste wasn’t sure; she knew so little about Tabitha still.

That was the crux of the problem; someone Celeste knew far too little about that demanded her support. If not in words, then through actions she had demanded it. What little Celeste had heard had come from the sorrowful tongues of those driven to desperate action by the expansion of the Silver Skulls. What she had heard from those people had not been good. Tabitha had grown her people through force, through intimidation. Was that what Celeste wanted to support? Could there be another way?

Perhaps she could convince Tabitha of another way. To expand her influence through better means. Celeste could show her the power of example, as her father had showed her. To set an example as one that could overcome those desperate instincts. That their lives could be better. If Tabitha could show the people an alternative to the violence of the gangs and the wickedness of this Cult of X, then perhaps real good could still be done here.

But there were still those weapons. Tabitha was trying to create an arsenal, that was clear. Could she convince Tabitha to dispose of them? The docks had grown so violent over even the sight of those crates, how terrible could things have gotten if people had gotten into them. What devastation could be wrought if dangerous weapons were in the hands of desperate men. Celeste could not let that happen.

Celeste shook her head and tapped her book in a thudding rhythm. She didn’t have enough information. The pressure to make a choice, to support or not support, weighed upon her shoulders. This was the true burden of her gifts, one that her father had kept her from for years now. His protection was not here though. She felt a longing for the Bishop’s wrinkled face now; for the strong comfort his presence gave her. She wished him to be here, to make the right decision for. But he wasn’t here, as much as that pained her, only she was. She needed to decide, but how? How could she without thinking of the people’s opinion? Those voices that too often had no say in the way their lives went. Would the people feel safe beneath the watch of Tabitha? She felt trapped here once more, trapped in this cage of hers no better than the temple had been.

“Lady Radiance,” Arabella shook Celeste from her thoughts, poking her head into the room. “Your supper is nearly ready. You should wash up.”

Celeste smiled instinctively at her. The girl had taken to being the house cook. Gardinal's old Jöln caretaker had grumbled about it at first, but Arabella had beaten off the man with a wooden spoon. Celeste was thankful for it; the woman’s cooking was surprisingly delicious. And much better than that old man’s best efforts had been.

“Of course, sister.” Celeste responded. She wondered where the girl had learned to cook so well. Growing up on the streets of Southshore was no way to learn to cook. Wait, Celeste realized, Arabella grew up on the streets! “Arabella, wait!” Celeste called out, clambering down from her nook. The girl had already departed the doorway but Celeste only waited a moment before the girl returned.

“Yes Prophetess?” Arabella responded fully entering the room this time. She wore a large apron that was far too big for her, with hands on her hips. She looked like a stern older priestess Celeste had once known. Celeste had found that apron for her, it had been in the big bag of clothing Vallerian had purchased for her.

“Arabella, you’ve been among these street gangs have you not?” Celeste inquired. Arabella blushed at the question.

“Oh, Your Radiance. Yes I was, and I’m very sorry for it I am. If you have thought on it and seen that I am unfit…” Arabella stopped at a wave from Celeste’s hand. The girl was always getting herself worked up anytime Celeste asked her anything. This was the fifth time today the girl had assumed Celeste would dismiss her.

“Peace, sister. I adore your company and would not send you away for anything.” Celeste comforted her. “No, I asked because I wanted to know of the people’s sentiments towards the Silver Skulls.”

Arabella puckered her lips at the question and looked up, obviously in deep thought. “Well, we didn't like ‘em very much, I can tell ya that.” she eventually responded, but she kept her face the same. “But if I'm being honest with you, Your Radiance ma’am, I think we didn't like ‘em because we was jealous.”

Celeste frowned in thought. “You envied them…”

“Because they had such things that we didn't. Ate well, slept warm, all that.” She shook her head. “It wasn't fair.”

Celeste’s heart ached at that. It wasn't fair. The people in that tower, was that what the common folk considered luxury? Celeste considered her own chambers, both here and in the temple. The lush, imported silks, the rich marble columns. Celeste had all that, and Arabella had been jealous that other street gangs had roofs over their head. She felt ridiculous, what had she been thinking, going out into the streets and feeling like she could make a difference.

But Arabella had told her something important. Tabitha was good to her people. If Celeste could be an influence on Tabitha, if she could guide her to goodness, then perhaps this could work. She could support the woman and make a real difference in the common folk’s lives. Celeste said a short prayer of thanks to Ethinia. Any opportunity for good would be worthwhile, and in this moment, she could do good through the darkest of places. But the problem of the weapons still lingered. If Tabitha wanted the Faith’s support, Celeste wanted to ensure no harm be done in the First Mother’s name.

“Your Radiance.” Arabella spoke up again, forcing Celeste from her thoughts once more. “Your food is going to get cold.”

Celeste smiled at the Jöln girl. She had no idea how much she had just helped. “Come on Valleresa, it is time to eat.” Celeste strode over to Valleresa and pulled her from her seat. “And as we eat, we have plans to make. And I will need both the mind of a daughter of a great house, and a daughter of Southshore. Celeste grinned triumphantly, she would figure this out, she would create a plan with her sisters. And tomorrow, she would confront Tabitha and convince her that violence had no future in Southshore, but that charity did.