A Silent Waltz

For what felt like an eternity, Marie grappled with the weight of her choices, her mind an unyielding void. There was no easy answer to the question of whether she should join Ezra in his plot to overthrow the emperor. 

She wanted to follow him, but there was something holding her back. Her hesitation went beyond her fears for herself or her family. It was a deep, gnawing sense of unease that she had never felt before. 

In difficult moments like these, Marie's mother used to place a small statue of the Arveldian matron goddess, Lumena, upon the mantle. She'd then light a solitary white candle and pray until clarity dawned.

Feeling utterly lost, Marie decided to follow in her mother's footsteps. Retrieving the old marble statue from a wooden box beneath her bed, she meticulously dusted its crevices. Her fingers traced the chipped golden paint along the veil to the tip of the torch held in the figure's hand.

She played at reverence, staring for a long time to try and mimic the sort of reverence she thought she should have when contemplating divinity. She hoped that even if she felt nothing, she could get the goddess to answer her call if she made a good enough effort.

Placing the statue on her vanity, she ignited a candle and took her seat before the mirror, gazing at the statue as she silently prayed to Lumena. 

Prayer was an odd feeling that gnawed at her insides, worry and self-consciousness bubbling to the surface each time her mind wandered.

Perhaps it was her pride that got in her way in these circumstances. Considering the well of power that Marie held inside of her own body, she hated to admit that there were circumstances that were entirely beyond her control. 

Time stretched endlessly, yet revelation remained elusive. Frustration compelled Marie to retreat to her bed, abandoning her attempt at devotion. As she closed her weary eyes she turned her thoughts inward, addressing her mother.

"Mother," her whisper punctuated the silence, infused with a reverence she never reserved for the gods. "Tell me what I should do..."

-

A crackling symphony of fire enveloped Marie as she spun in a field of gold speckled with orange flames and drifting gray smoke. She found herself in a wordless waltz with Ezra, her hands entwined with his as they advanced toward the inferno.

Ezra's piercing gray eyes remained locked onto her, a secretive smile gracing his lips as he led her into a graceful spin. Marie's gaze, however, fixated on a group of hares darting over the fiery wall, hurtling toward them through the sea of gold.

She stumbled, falling into Ezra's embrace once more, while the hares weaved around them, an ocean of movement beneath their dancing feet. Shadows cascaded over Ezra's face, mirroring the shifting skies above. She lifted her eyes to the heavens, where a dense murder of crows eclipsed the sun's brilliance.

When her gaze returned to her dance partner, Ezra had vanished. In his stead stood the emperor, his hair radiant as the blazing wheat. Edward's hand descended to the small of her back, drawing her closer as the encroaching wall of fire rumbled. He leaned down, placed his lips right next to her ear and spoke, but the roar of the flames drowned out his whispered message. Then, he led her into the fire.

-

Marie awoke in the midafternoon, sunlight streaming through her open window and casting a warm glow upon her face. Despite the pleasant embrace of the summer sun, a sense of foreboding loomed over her.

Lara had once cautioned her to heed omens, for ignored omens often returned with vengeance. Now seemed as good a time as ever to listen to the old woman's advice.

The dream, an omen in itself, had seemingly made her choice for her. Ezra's plan could only spell disaster if she became entangled in it. 

She composed a straightforward message to send to Ezra, leaving out any unnecessary delicacies in her words. They would only insult him.

'Ezra, you know my unwavering support is yours. Regrettably, I cannot fulfill your request. If I discover a way to assist you independently, I will inform you.

Please be careful.

P.S. Burn this message upon reading.'

She omitted her name, relying on the content of the message to identify her as the sender.

After dispatching the bird, Marie contemplated her next steps. Following the anniversary ball, she resolved to journey to the city and meet with Lara at the Pharmakon. Guidance was desperately needed at this juncture.