The neighborhood shrine had confirmed Tempesti’s suspicions. In the weeks following her previous visits the shrine’s sparse overgrowth and sleepy insects had erupted green and yellow against the white stone of the altar, verdant tendrils reaching outward to the surrounding land in a slow but noticeable creep. The fluttering teruda and meandering garden blossoms seemed to revel in their newly expanded patch, spreading eagerly outward with the resurgent flora which hummed with the cheerful presence of the tiny fuzzy bee-like creatures she’d encountered on her last visit. It was good to see that they were making themselves at home once more, after all they belonged here as much as she did. She hadn’t allowed herself to consider the possibility that her actions would leave the spot unchanged, but the new growth exceeded her admittedly humble expectations. A surge of joy carried her forward toward a place that hung haunted in the reaches of ancient memory, pushing aside the dread that gripped some long-buried part of her. She knew that sleepless shadows lingered within its walls, but after a millennium of silence they could claim dominion no longer. She hoped that after a few dozen repetitions she would be able to convince herself.

Echoes of that woman continued to resonate within Tempesti, and despite her best efforts to push them aside, she remained stubborn and nameless in the back of her mind. Her name mattered far less than who she was. The teacher, tutor, religious fanatic, whichever role she claimed, had been not just an educator to Elysia, but almost an idol. An idol who dedicated a good portion of her life ensuring that her charge knew exactly how dangerous and broken she was. Tempesti wondered how much of what that woman said was true. She wondered if anything she said was true. She found herself at a confluence of her own fear and Elysia’s, surging forth through the centuries to slow her down at what could possibly be the least convenient moment it could choose. It was not as though she could claim any kind of intimate understanding of the magic at work here, but her experiment on the smaller shrine was proof. Proof that her own magic wasn’t poison. That it wouldn’t pollute this world like that strange dogma claimed. Every inch of that neighborhood felt…more alive. Even if the new residents were less adorable than the ones she’d encountered, she would still consider their return a victory. And that woman, that ancient iron-haired woman had given her a key where she intended only to instill fear. Elysia might not have recognized it through whatever brainwashing made her think anything those people said was honest, but she had the luxury of perspective. A thousand years of perspective.

The promise of the Primordial Shrines, the promise of the Wellspring, the promise of life, of one more song reawakened in the grand galactic symphony. Whatever bogeys remained within her mind and without, whatever risks she might encounter, they were nothing compared to what this world stood to gain if she could only keep her nerve.