Blackfeather Woods i'll wait to be forgiven, maybe i never will

Oh shit, oh shit. She didn't deal with tears well at all, and panic began to grip her as she noticed the indigo eyes glimmer suddenly. Before she could say something—but seriously, what?—Astara rose and was away at a fairly quick clip. Maegi stood, too, and started after her at a significantly slower pace.

Astara, hey, I'm sorry— she called out, but she knew it was too late. The girl had vanished back into the Mire, and Maegi was left beside what remained of the Listener, the woman who had once wanted her to ascend to that position.

She glanced at the pelvis, grief burning in her throat. I am sorry, Maegi whispered, shaking her head. I don't know why I keep making the wrong decisions. When I stay, I should have left; when I leave, I should have stayed. She bent down and gently took the bone in her mouth, placing it atop the Altar.

Maegi might not have believed in Mephala any longer, but Relmyna had always shown such unwavering faith in the Night Mother. And so the Melonii touched her muzzle to the stone slab and began to say a prayer she hadn't in quite some time—and it had been even longer since she had believed in it—but this wasn't for her. It wasn't for Maegi.

“Oh, Mephala.
Mighty weaver of our destiny, receive our prayer.
Have mercy on us, speak to us in our dreams—
Because we are your unworthy servants.”

Shijetra nyke, Rȳbassis, she whispered, and then padded away, without another glance back.