A semi-circular colonnade greeted her as she rounded a corner in the now-familiar neighborhood. The windflowers now wound themselves boldly around the slender columns and crept up the simple white limestone altar that stood in the center. Like the shrine in the Tower the overgrowth had long since conquered the altar’s octagonal mensa, obscuring its face and rendering the crystals set in the stone all but invisible among centuries of kipple. Deft trimmers separated the dead from the living, each dry brown tendril finding a place within a beige canvas bag that sagged open on the ground beside the altar. Following a few hours of manipulating plants and scrubbing off the grime of ages, the altar rose agleam once more, its glowing crystals a small beacon in a no longer quite dead city.
“Before Sotiria, every Sailor Tempesti carried the favor of this world’s spirits. Before Sotiria, every Sailor Tempesti lent her power to the shrines.”

The voice came unbidden, weaving its way through her mind from some dark recess of her soul. A stern-faced woman sat across from her, seated on a low chaise lounge in gilded wood and pale purple fabric. Her greying brown hair was pulled with vicious tautness against her skull before being ruthlessly twisted into an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck. Hawkish eyes watched the girl intently as she spoke, orating as though she addressed an audience consisting of more than a single student. The woman did not give an air of deliberate cruelty, instead projecting cold necessity while reinforcing her own iron conviction in each word that passed her lips.

“Even the Primordial. The Wellspring even. Every year, the spirits knew her and granted her their favor. We have the Tyrant to thank for the taint in your soul. Something twisted the purity of the harpies’ magic within her and now your touch would bring nothing but pollution. There’s no telling what could happen to this planet if your magic compromised the Wellspring.” The girl’s stylus scratched across the surface of her tablet, eyes wide as her tutor spoke, ignoring the lock of hair that tumbled forth from beneath her sheer white veil. This was a lesson to be learned and learned well. The grandiose delusions of the past could never be repeated. “Luckily for us the spirits recognize the touch of Spyros, and the blood of Tempesti. Your magic may be cursed, but the blood that binds you to this place does far more than anything you can see within these walls. You still have your part to play, my dear.” The girl nodded silently, this knowledge was as old and natural as breathing.

Just as suddenly as it came the vision ended, leaving the senshi blinking in the disorienting light of the setting sun. The teruda drifted lazily around the shrine, undisturbed by the sudden jolt that passed through her body. She couldn’t put a name to the familiar face that had scrutinized her own with such piercing intensity, but the foreign rage welled within her all the same. She knew the words were a lie. She hoped the words were a lie. Just another absurdity shared through generations until it became stronger, more durable than fact. Despite the woman’s best efforts, she had demonstrated a clear way to make her greatest fears come true. Tempesti smiled with an edge of spite as she focused on the altar and its crystals.
Holding out her arms, she shouted “Harrowing Storm!” Harpies burst forth from within, swarming and engulfing the altar in wind and lightning. Though she knew they weren’t sentient, she couldn’t help but imagine them laughing their defiance of that ancient stigma as they mingled their flight with the fluttering of the teruda. Then the city once more fell silent. For the first several moments the shrine rested languidly, as though claiming the crystals’ new glow was the extent of the activity in which it intended to engage today. She dropped her arms to her sides with a frustrated sigh before running her fingers along the central crystal. A barely perceptible vibration buzzed beneath her touch before rising to a roaring crescendo and settling into a brilliant shine that demanded the attention of all within its presence. Gleeful laughter bubbled forth as each crystal bathed the shrine in their soft light.

Whatever taint might linger on this planet, it wasn’t within her.