For she is of us.

Divinity made Flesh.

-The Gospel according to the Holy First Handmaiden

Celeste watched the revelry unfold before her, a passive observer on the edge of celebration. It was not a new experience, after so many years as ‘The Prophetess’ she had grown accustomed to watching others have fun. Be it temple initiates sneaking snickers in the garden outside her chamber window, or watching children play from Gardinal’s second floor study, Celeste had long accepted that such a life was simply not for her. So now, as the songs echoed into the night with hundreds of rhythmic voices and pounding drums, Celeste simply rocked on her feet to the rhythm.

Scanning over the crowd that thrummed around the great bonfire, Celeste sought scant glimpses of her friends. The easiest to see were Arabella and Valleresa of course, having run off the moment she had told them it was alright. They had been dancing in one another’s arms since, if always within sight of her. Celeste couldn’t help but smile seeing Arabella throwing her head back in laughter at something Valleresa had whispered.

It had been a blessing to have had their company this night, especially with how busy Valleresa had been since she begun heading the Order of the Handmaidens. Despite Valleresa’s return to the temple, they had mostly only shared passing glances for a week. At least now she had returned to sleeping in Celeste’s bed most nights, same with Arabella, though if one was gone for the night the other always was as well. There was something, if she could just puzzle it out.

Shaking her head, Celeste continued watching for her friends. Trying to spot them was like trying to find a particular bee buzzing in the gardens during springtime. Still, in time, there were others she noticed in the crowd as well. She saw Rekiak and Thelyra of course, but several of the Korek she had met in the past danced around them as well; faces she knew, if not names.

At one point she thought she had spotted Gardinal and Vallerian hovering along the far edge of the festivities. It seemed they had maintained a friendship in her absence. It was a bittersweet thought, one that left her feeling guilty for a brief flickering of envy. As her father had told her time and time again, she was the Prophetess, friendships were a luxury she could not afford. Even then, she wished Gardinal and Vallerian would come by to see her. Even just one of them would be better than standing alone.

But perhaps they didn’t want to see her. She had dismissed Gardinal from her service after all, surely why he hadn’t come to visit her since. Despite all that she had thought of him as a friend, it seemed for Gardinal it had only ever been an occupation. Not that she blamed him, he had performed his duty admirably. Vallerian had only really been around to watch over his sister, and now that she was out of danger it made sense he’d be off as well.

A flash of blonde hair in the crowd froze Celeste. Flowing golden locks, bobbing in and out of the crowd. She swallowed nervously and tried to follow it with her eyes. Could he be here? After she had left him again? Darting her eyes along, trying to peer through the dancing children, the singing men, the laughing elders, all of it, she searched desperately. If she could just catch a glimpse of him then… well then maybe the knot in her stomach might go away.

“You comported yourself well today.” The stern voice of her father shocked Celeste from her search. Swallowing nervously, she looked up at him. His eyes scanned over the crowd critically, as though he too was searching for something.

“Th… thank you father.” She managed to whisper as she made a study of the dirt at her feet. That was high praise from him, some of the highest she had ever had. It felt odd. “I simply spoke as the Mother moved me.”

“Hmm, yes.” He responded coolly. “Though in the future it would do better to retain composure. Mummers tears and theatrics may work on the common peasant, but you will find they curry little favour with the lords and ladies of the realm.”

“I…” Celeste stammered. How was one supposed to respond to that? “I do not put on father.” She tried to explain. “I simply do as I feel is right, with no affectations.”

“Perhaps some more education in affectation would prove fruitful then.” He responded in his usual terse manner. “To continue on as you do would be to let your emotions control you Prophetess, but that leaves you as a slave to your most base impulses.”

Celeste pursed her lips. Was that all she was? Just a child submitting to her emotions? What of those people she had helped in Southshore, the people she had truly made a difference for? That had come from her love and compassion for them, not from logic and reasoning. What her father spoke of… Celeste could not imagine being so cold.

“I think… perhaps, I disagree father.” Celeste eventually spoke up. “The Mother above makes me feel as I do, and to ignore it… I think would be to ignore her.”

A silence spread among them after that, a tense moment despite the music and shouting around them. Despite the puffing clouds of bright colours and the rich scents of roasting meats, at that moment beside her father she felt unwelcome.

“I fear you do not yet understand Prophetess. I do not ask you to ignore, but to control.” Her father spoke eventually, staring off into the bonfire over the crowds. She could see the fire flickering in his aquamarine eyes, dancing like facets in a gem. “My own mother was a master of emotions. She was kind and loving as well, of course. But when the time had come, she knew what she had to do for her family.” He looked down at her then, the lack of flames leaving a dark absence in his eyes. “I think perhaps you could do to be more like her.”

Celeste hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until her father looked away once more. The beating of her heart matched the rhythms of the dance, and Celeste bit her lip as she avoided looking at the stoic man next to her. “You’ve never spoken of your mother before.” She whispered.

“She died when I was quite young.” He responded.

“Do you miss her?”

“No.” There was silence for a long moment, a frigid silence that made Celeste want to wrap her arms around her shoulder despite the raging fire so nearby. Her father sighed, a short terse sound but enough to melt the tension somewhat. “Radiance, if you are to become everything I know you can be, you must be better.”

“Better than what?” She asked.

“Better than everyone.” He answered matter-of-factly. “If you are to rise, all the way to the top, then you have no choice.”

Celeste followed his gaze as he spoke, looking up high above the flame she could just barely make out the shadow of the palace, high atop the hill the city was built on. Of course, she thought, he too only cares for my eyes. Somehow, somewhere within, she had always known those were her father’s intentions. It still left a hollow sensation in her heart, an emptiness touched on the outside by a darkness that left her sick. She had thought that at least to him, being The Prophetess would be enough.

“Father I don’t know if…”

“Mora Ga’Na.” A voice like dry parchment called out, and Celeste spun with a sudden smile. She knew that voice.