Lunetta’s skirts billowed as she walked slowly,
purposefully down the road into Sarvos alone. Her head bowed, hands playing on
the two rings on her fingers, quietly sobbing, she entered her hometown for the
first time in several months. Luckily, in some ways, and unluckily in others,
Giorgio, the caretaker of her small church while she was out of Sarvos, was the
first to spot her.
“Priestess!” He called, his eyes lighting up as he spied
the bright blue of her cloak. “You have returned!” He dashed across to her, and
his face fell as he saw her shoulders heaving and her face wet. “Priestess…what
has happened? Do you need aid?” She looked over at him, her face tear-stained
and spirit broken.
“My lady, are you taken ill?” He asked, placing his arm
around her shoulder, gently guiding her down the road.
“Of mind perhaps, but not of body.” She replied, her
hands still running across the small golden ring with blue and red gems, and
the larger silver ring with blue gem. “I…I will be better when I meet with
Bishop Isotte; that much I am certain of.” She added, her voice wavering and uncertain.
Giorgio walked with her, concern etched on his face.
“Where are your friends?” He asked, worriedly.
“The…Bellamarina, yes? Where are they? You shouldn’t be walking like…” He
gestured to her, “…this, on your own.”
“I left them making their own ways home.” She replied,
quietly. “I…needed space. I…needed time. Please…” she turned to him, great
sorrow in her eyes, “…don’t ask any more questions. I had…my…reasons for my
actions. I was never in danger.” She finished, choking back another sob. He
nodded, apologetically.
“I am sorry, my Lady. I…merely worry for you, as you
are.”
They walked in silence, Lunetta’s sobs and gasps breaking
it every so often, and they reached Glass Point in relatively good time.
Giorgio walked her into her mother’s church, and then gently helped her to sit.
“I’ll go find the beloved Bishop.” He said, bowing to Lunetta before dashing
away.
Lunetta sat in silence, looking down the aisle, towards
the chain labyrinth depicted above the parapet her mother gave her sermons
from. She found herself walking down the aisle, kneeling in front of it, and
sobbing openly, the well of emotions within her taking their opportunity to
breach the dam of poise and dignity she had tried so hard to maintain in Anvil.
Bracing herself by placing her hands on the raised step in front of her, she
released the pain, grief, anger and fear she had been harbouring into the very
fabric of the stone building. It was only when she felt an arm around her
shoulder that she snapped out of her daze.
Giorgio was knelt beside her, and he gently lifted her up,
and she stood shakily. Turning around, she saw her mother stood at the end of
the aisle, and she bowed her head, ashamed of the scene she had created. He
walked her up to Isotte, who murmured in the quietest of whispers.
“Take her to my chamber. I will be up shortly. Wait with
her there.” Giorgio nodded and gently lead her up the stairs to the Bishop’s
chamber, much as a parent would lead a toddler or young child. When they
reached the room, Giorgio lead her in and sat down with her on the bench
against the wall. Lunetta sat tensed, pulling herself in as tightly as she
could; her posture rigid and straight, trying to regain at least some semblance
of dignity and poise. Giorgio said something to her, but she was so caught up
in her own mind that she didn’t hear. She did, however, feel his hand on hers,
and see a reassuring smile on his face. She gulped audibly and focussed on her
lap. All the comfort in the world could not take away her pain and hurt.
As the door opened once more, Lunetta stood, her hands
clasped tightly in front of her. Her mother stood in front of her, and turned
to Giorgio.
“Giorgio, you may leave.” She said, nodding gratefully to
him. “No doubt the Priestess will return to her church when she has regained
her composure.” She continued, glancing across to Lunetta, still stood there
uncomfortably. “And, we would appreciate if you could keep this…episode…to
yourself?” She asked, with a raised eyebrow and air of gravitas and authority.
“O…of course, Bishop! Of course! As long…” He began,
glancing across at Lunetta. “…as the Priestess is well?” Lunetta blinked back
tears and forced a smile in his direction.
“She is tired from her journeys, no doubt. Rest will
recuperate her, I should imagine. Thank you for bringing her to me.” Isotte
replied. Giorgio bowed, and with a last nod to Lunetta, he exited.
As the door thudded shut, Isotte looked at her daughter,
frowning, and she took a few steps towards her. “Well,” she began, with a
slight chuckle. “That was certainly an entrance, my child…” She tilted her head
in semi-joking appreciation, but then her demeanour grew serious. “What
occurred, Lunetta? What…has brought you to your knees in sorrow, here with us?”
She looked at her daughter with concern, her hands reaching for Lunetta’s pale,
trembling ones.
Lunetta swallowed, and then as she went to speak, she
felt the tears spill from her eyes once more. “They’re…” She began, choking out
the words, “…They’re dead, mother.” Her hand flew to her mouth and she began to
sob. “They…they never…came back.” Isotte’s heart panged, seeing her daughter in
such a state, and she gently drew her into an embrace, stroking her brown-blonde
hair in a soothing manner.
“From battle?” Isotte asked, trying to piece together the
story. Lunetta nodded, into her mother’s shoulder. Isotte frowned.
“Unfortunately…” She softly said, her voice measured, “…such situations
are…more common than we should like.” She paused for a second. “When did this
occur?”
“Two days ago.” Lunetta replied, tearfully. “They took me
to the gathering in Anvil…they introduced me to the Carta…everything was…” She
smiled sadly, and then more tears fell. “...perfect. I met Jared of the Suns of
Couros of Highguard, our new Cardinal, and…”
“You met the Cardinal?” Asked her mother, looking at Lunetta with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, I helped elect him…” Isotte went to interject, and
Lunetta cut her off before she could. “…and he was wonderful, mother. Truly
wonderful. He tried to comfort me when…” She inhaled deeply and then continued,
“…when I heard the news.” She sighed, and Isotte moved her to the bench again, where
she sat with her, Lunetta’s head rested on her shoulder, with her mother’s hand
stroking her hair once more.
“They went off to fight and…” she swallowed, trying to
blink back the tears. “There were rumours they weren’t going to return…so I
went and sat by the portal…and…and…” She sobbed loudly, burying her face in her
hands. “…A Navarri friend of theirs came through…and…said they were dead.”
Isotte sat in silence with Lunetta while she cried,
trying to comfort her as best she could. When she had calmed herself down,
Isotte replied “But they are in the
Labyrinth now; they will be reborn and join us again, you know that…”
“Of course I know that!” Choked Lunetta. “Of course I know that! I could hardly call myself a Priestess if I didn’t know that, could I?!” She snapped, her pulse racing. “I know they’re in the labyrinth, I know they’ll return, I know…” she snapped her eyes shut and balled her hands up into fists. “I know. But does that make this any better? Does that mean I’m not allowed to mourn their passing; to struggle with losing them?” Her voice raised. “Everytime someone loses someone: “Oh, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be reborn anyway, no big deal?!”” She was reaching hysteria, and her mother struggled not to respond in kind.
“That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it.” Replied Isotte, her voice calm but clipped. “Of course you can mourn them, indeed you should. You cared deeply for them and now they have been taken from you. Of course you can feel anger and sadness…but shouting is not going to bring them back, Lunetta. Crying Caricomare may make you feel better, but does it make things change? No.” Lunetta looked up at her with betrayal in her eyes. “Lunetta,” said her mother, sternly. “I do not say this to be unkind. I do not say this to cause you more pain. But look around you. Look.” She insisted, pointing to the window. Lunetta, still reeling from her mother’s words stood up and walked to the window.
“What do you see?” Asked Isotte.
“Sarvos.” Replied Lunetta scathingly.
“Good. Now look closer.” Directed Isotte. “What do you
see?”
Lunetta looked, sighed, rolled her eyes and looked back
at her mother.
“Do it.” Said
her mother, sternly, with a glare she reserved for the miscreants of her congregation…and
her daughter.
“I see buildings. People. Trade.” She shrugged. “Mother,
what do you…” Isotte cut her off.
“Yes. There is a world out there. A world you have no
doubt seen more of than I and your father put together. You were given time
with people who showed you sights others could only dream of. You had a chance
none of us received. Yes, they are lost to the Labyrinth. I am truly, truly sorry for that loss…” replied her mother, beseechingly. “But
are you lost with them?”
“Pardon?” Asked Lunetta, confused.
“Are you lost with them? Are you going to allow yourself
to mourn and mourn and mourn and forget to live? Are you going to live your
life wishing you had died alongside them?” Asked Isotte, shrugging. “Is that
really the most loyal thing you can think of doing in their name?”
Lunetta deflated. “I…” Her voice was weak and soft. “…I
don’t know what would be loyal anymore, mother. I don’t…know…what to do. I’m
losing…my way…the Way.”
Isotte slowly walked up to Lunetta and put her arm around
her. “You will make it through this pain, Lunetta. And, should you return to
Anvil, no doubt you will see others in the same position as you in the future.
Learn from this. Take these feelings, take this hurt, and make it into something
beautiful. Make it into something worthy of their sacrifice. Turn this into
something that will last; something that will stand the tests of time.”
“I’m not an artisan…I don’t have…” began Lunetta.
“No. You don’t.” Agreed her mother. “But even rock is
worn away in time. Even metal rusts. Even magic can fade. You don’t need
materials to make something. Did your companions ever make you anything
tangible?” Asked Isotte.
“No…” said Lunetta, looking at her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what she was trying to say.
“But you miss them? You feel their loss?” She asked.
“Of course!” Replied Lunetta, hurt.
“So they made something. They made a difference to you
and your life. No magic, no weapons, no materials. Just memories of events,
places and words.” She finished, with a knowing shrug. “I know you have a
tongue in your head, my dear.” Her mother said, with a raised eyebrow and
smile. “So use it! Use it for them. Make
something with it. Something spectacular.”
She finished, somewhat triumphantly.
Lunetta looked at the floor, thinking hard. “I…have been
asked to lead their wake when the Carta return to Anvil in a few months’ time.”
She said, quietly, almost to herself. “I…don’t know what I’ll say…or how I will
cope.”
“You will cope, my dear. You have courage enough for you
and whoever else will need it.” Replied her mother, with a soft smile. “And you
have time to think on what you will say. Write yourself a script. I can promise
you you won’t use it...but you will feel better for having it. Most importantly,
let whatever you say come straight from here.” She gestured to Lunetta’s chest.
“You have such emotion and conviction within you…let that show. Let those who
stand in memory with you see that emotion; that strength of feeling you carry
within yourself.”
Lunetta looked at her mother, emotionally drained, and
embraced her tightly. “Thank you, mother.” Isotte looked at her, appraisingly.
“My child…how much you have grown in the past year; how much you have seen and done…” She murmured, smiling gently. “And how much more you have to see yet…”
They stood there together, for a while, until Isotte
looked back at Lunetta once more. “There is a spare room here, should you want
to rest here before returning to your congregation tomorrow. No doubt Giorgio
and the others will fret otherwise.”
Lunetta nodded, gratefully. “Thank you.” She then ran a
hand across her face. “I did not mean to worry Giorgio…but…he was a friend, and
he was there…” she began. Isotte smiled.
“I am sure he will understand. Now, let us eat and then
you can rest. Lisabetta has been working tirelessly at that stove for half the
day. It would be unkind of us to not partake in whatever treats she has in
store…”
Her arm around her daughter, Isotte lead her daughter out
of the room, hoping she had made something of a difference.
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