Celine

Stanram shelters under heavy snow. This small fishing village is a rather simple corner of Eratia, quiet and peaceful at nighttime.

AAAAAAAAAAaaaAAaaAAAAA!

Light beams from the windows of a cottage. The scream scares the building’s door, it jolts open – quite a risky move during this weather. It’s a freezing night, when sensible people wouldn’t dare exit their beds, or the hiding of their houses. Well…the determined figure that appeared in view looks as if it has greater priorities than not being frozen to its death. While groans are still audible from the inside of the cottage, even as the wind howls too, it swims through the mounds of snow, steadily approaching a neighboring house.

Thunderous knocking.

A chilling pause.

At the light that shines now from the windows of the second house, you can more easily study the appearance of the figure: a very tall man, almost half as wide in his furry coat, having a distressed look on his face. His hair could have used the haven of a hat, that he probably forgot at home. He is both frowning and crying, as the door in front of him is opened by a short old lady.

Maybe you are curious to listen to their hurried conversation, but the roaring wind does not let you eavesdrop. It’s not difficult to tell what it’s about though. The lady goes back inside, returns with a basket and some more layers of clothing, and they both head to the cottage. If you are to glimpse inside as they arrive, you would know the meaning of this fuss. A woman in pain will soon be a mother. Perhaps privacy would be preferred, but I guess no one would mind if I tell you this: When Celine was born, the entire cottage felt a tid bit warmer, the light flickered with more power.

***

“Think of the greater good.”

“Look at the bigger picture.”

“Right.”

“WELL THE BIGGER PICTURE’S MADE OUT OF THE MANY SMALL ONES.”

They each mattered too, and Celine could not ignore this any longer.

She just came back to Grand Abbey. She fulfilled her mission. But… A fellow Dawnbringer just gave her the letters. It’s the writing of her father, she can see that, but it’s shakier. She read it again. And again. And again.

“I could have helped… I really could have helped.”

Her hands are shaking too.

“WHY DIDN’T HE TELL ME?”

“Why? He knew. He surely knew.”

Mykiel gave her handy visions for saving those cities from the plague, but no word about her mother. Not even a glimpse of what was happening back home, in her sweet old Stanram. She finds out only now, when it is too late. Her father asked for help. He rarely does. And she is too late.

“Saving hundreds from disease, but not my own mother…”

Celine grabs her satchel from the door, and she storms out from Lathander’s temple – first by foot, then by two wings growing from her back. She must go home. Now. And fast. No time for concealing she’s not fully human…

To be continued…