Stavanger Bay It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Making some assumptions, let me know if anything should be changedddd

In the wake of their acceptance into Saltshore, Reverie lacked the drive and focus to hold herself together any longer. She followed @Lestan wherever he led her, and found a place to rest, clinging to her tenuous grasp on here and now —
But when she saw a flash of green eyes, she knew that she could not anymore. Rose, She breathed, and reached for her dancing golden form thoughtlessly; Rose! Dancing! Reverie forgot Lestan entirely. All she knew was her sister, the scent of her and the grace of her movement, the beauty she brought to this moment of tragedy. But when Rose stopped and turned to her, Reverie felt her heart drop to see the sorrow etched into her features. She was weeping, but why? "You're dying," Rose answered before she could ask, her voice a drifting song of wind and sea. Dying. No, no, she couldn't be dying —
I'm not dying, A tremulous whisper into the salt-laden air. I'm not. Lestan will - he'll -
"He won't save you," Rose was shaking her head sadly, taking a step forward in invitation. "Not this time. He won't even try, Reverie."
He will, he will, he just needs time… Reverie inched backward, unable to stand but unwilling to let Rose any closer. I - I can't go with you. Not yet. She straightened a little, feeling suddenly stronger than she had in weeks.
"Is this really what you want? You were promised to him, but a promise can be broken. You can still belong to yourself, like we always wanted." There was something cold in Rose's voice, something she did not recognize. She knew then that this was not her sister, not at all. Reverie's hackles flared.
Always. I will always choose -
"Then you will burn."
I was made to burn.

But the time for speaking was over. Reverie shrieked and scrambled to her feet as if set aflame, and for a few desperate heartbeats she sought the safety of Lestan's arms. Whether she found it or not, the next moment took with it her hold on consciousness, and all the fight left her in an instant.

The sundancer.
The light that follows the flame.
The girl in the reverie.
Just another lost spirit wandering in a world that was not her own, but along the way she had collected so many little things that might now pass for an identity. A sense of self. Reverie had never possessed much of that, in spite of her assertions and her convictions. What she wanted was to be loved, and so she collected a little bit of everything that she saw was loved in this world. It didn't matter to her that love was not always good or kind or right. It was always beautiful.
So maybe it made sense that she would throw it all away for this, this love that consumed her in the way of sickness. It was for love that she had done this to herself; it was for love that she drew shallow breath even now. No one had ever loved her as much as Lestan did. He was the light in her heart, the only thing that brought warmth and kept the flowers blooming; he was her soul-tie, her promise, her future. He was unlike anyone else, shrouded in light and shadow and meant for things beyond Reverie's understanding.

Even so, it was not about him. It wasn't about Reverie either, but she had known that all along.

It was about the flowers — and her.
She appeared to Reverie in a flash of light and a torrent of rain, a thousand eyes blinking in unison, a flurry of pale wings folding and unfolding all around her. And she remembered the witch's words: you must touch divinity. Suddenly she was certain that must be what she had found.
Mother Rain, she thought, but she knew that was not quite right. It was the face of a god Reverie looked upon, mother to more than just the rains — and she was dying. Just as Reverie was dying, but it was more than that; the death of a god was a terrible thing, an inconceivable thing! She could not understand it. What could kill a god?
Her god, she knew in a sudden rush of warmth; the rains that followed her, the birds who went silent for her, that intangible force which seemed to draw others to her in spite of her failings. Even Blossom, Reverie's impossible feat of magic in a world which rejected all other attempts. Her god had always watched over her. All it would take was a touch and she would be well again.
But she couldn't. She only had a moment to wonder why — and then she began to remember.
Her dream; the brightness; not entirely Reverie; the screaming; the loss; the questions —
She had tried, and in the process had lost a piece of herself. She was not ready, not yet, and that was why she needed Lestan. But before she could understand in full, Reverie was struck by a sound incomprehensible to her yet somehow perfectly clear.
The voice of her god, telling her many things — telling her that if she lived, it would be for something greater than what she had reached for. That she would dance for the favor of the sea and the sky; that she would nurture the flowers and the birds; that she would burn endlessly, and always seek the rains; and she would bear only daughters, and each time would sacrifice a piece of herself for the gift of life.

Reverie woke some hours later in a haze. She blinked into consciousness and, as she always did, reached for - Lestan?