The heavens cried, an endless waterfall that fed the angry ocean below. The rain drenched the Master’s dress as her hurried steps brought her to the lonely tower. While almost every inch of her exquisite gown drank the celestial water, the bundle of scrolls she carried were still dry, protected by her hands as a loving mother would her newborn.

Once inside, the womann wrung out what she could, her clinking jewelry as the melody of diminutive bells, barely muffled by the outside rain.

A messenger had delivered the summon to another messenger of her own, from him to Ignatius, and from the fiery cousin to her ears. The summon itself was most unexpected.

The long legs climbed up the stairs to the upper floor. Always striving to appear presentable, her hands fixed her dress wherever they could, as her eyes admired the chamber.

The roof had caved in long ago, leaving various places left in disrepair. Dozens of bases and basins lined the floor close to every window of the large, circular room, and then again in what appeared to have no particular pattern. And patterns was something Tenslea Darkholm knew quite well, as she sought it on all things. It was because her almost compulsive, organizational skills, that she had become both, the Master of Lands and Archduchess in Blackheart. But there was no pattern she could see in this meeting, and that alone made her jewelry sing as her hands trembled.

Inhaling deeply, she sought to compose herself, hiding any sign of unease as her eyes continued to study.

From the balcony on the southeast, the crooked figure of an old womann garbed in a black cloak approached, her back impossibly arched. She stepped slowly towards the Master of Lands, holding a jug in both her hands. Her eyes were a fading yellow, unlike the bright eyes of the much younger Archduchess.

“Master of Cosmos” Tenslea spoke first “I was told you summoned me to your presence.”

“You were summoned” the older womann responded.

“How may I be of service to you?” the Archduchess asked.

“To me?” Meliva Darkholm’s lips drew a smile “There is no need to serve me. I am a servant myself.”

Tenslea Darkholm’s face was one of confusion “Then, why was I summoned?”

“Ah,” the crone spoke “I did not summon you. But, come with me, let us ask.” The Master of Cosmos walked towards the balcony, followed by the younger womann. Upon reaching it, Tenslea’s bright, yellow eyes saw the ocean below was now calm. Where a storm raged earlier the clouds had parted to reveal a perfect night sky riddled with stars.

The Archduchess eyes marveled at the beauty of the shining jewels in the firmament. Her trance was interrupted by the sound of water from the jug being poured on a large basin. By its side, Meliva stood, looking down carefully at the numerous ripples in the water, which were later replaced by the reflection of even more numerous stars.

Tenslea smiled, as she faced the aged womann.

After a few silent minutes Meliva spoke “You smile often, even when you have grown knowing hardship...”

Tenslea tilted her head slightly, but still smiled as her eyes grew moist listening to the words of the Master of Cosmos.

“You always make yourself busy, and while you engage in so many things, you have never visited me...because you are fearful. You seek to protect your heart with the fierceness you protect your people.”

The Archduchess struggled to keep her smile while a new rain now fell from her eyes.

“Deep inside” Meliva touched the woman’s chest “you always seek to prove yourself. But, there is no need, child. The stars know your heart’s desire, and you don’t need to prove yourself to them.”

The smile now faded, and Tenslea’s knees lost all their strength. She now cried audibly.

“Know that you are one of the columns in Blackheart. Those you have helped may not say much, but their hearts are ever thankful for everything you have done.” Meliva knelt before Tenslea and took both her hands. Both women’s eyes, the bright yellow of the young woman who cried the faded yellow eyes of the aged womann who smiled, met. Meliva looked at the reflection of the stars in Tenslea’s golden jewelry as she added “Today, they are shining for you to say ‘thank you’ for everything you do...”

Tenslea gazed at the same reflection, distorted by the tears that fell on the golden surfaces. The crone walked away and left the room, leaving Tenslea to her own.

And there, in that balcony, Tenslea Darkholm’s tears left, her smile returned as she fell asleep among the stars.

(Thank you, Tenslea Darkholm, for organizing Pax for us. Thank you for all the stress you put on yourself so that we can all enjoy our time. I can never thank you enough for everything you do.)