Herbalists' Cache antistékomai

He was altogether absent and fully aware. Foxglove screaming, wailing at his side. 
The arrival of his older niece and nephew. They came alongside him but he could not feel them, and when he opened his eyes, his gaze drifted past.

In the Gilded Sea, it was said that if you had the right materials, you could see into the eyes of god. You could see into the mind of the unknowable, and know, in your time, your will, your way.

But a different God had found him that day upon the hill. Knowable and unknown; revealing as He revealed, and more often, allowing things to be without explanation why. He did not bend to the will of creation. He called all to follow - and gave choice, and blessing, and consequence.

To trust Him was all He had ever asked, but the sea still clung to Everett in Gilded strands.

How could he save anyone if he didn't know?

He took it all into his own feeble hands.

Everett shivered with fever. The Singer did not come to him now. Silence without answer. The only eyes he saw through were his own, and his skin felt as though it were on fire with every inferno he had ever thought his own voice had somehow sung away.