Foggy Bottom Way long dark

Oh, Brac, her beautiful boy; her son growing into a man too quickly for her eyes to adjust. She looked on him and found she still saw the sweet youth he'd been, and maybe she always would. Candle found it harder to see the Gods-chosen man behind his blue eyes, the new weight he carried on his dark shoulders. He'd inherited the best of his parents, hadn't he? That much, at least, was plain to any eye.

She closed her eyes again as he spoke, and saw no more. She only listened.

For a few terrifying moments they were not mother and son.

You know I am the Candlekeeper. Watcher of the Eternal Flame.

The priestess's silver-green eyes flickered open, glimmering with tears unshed.

You need to know that I failed. When fire came to the House of the Gods, not the holy fire but the kind that kills, I fled with my sisters. We abandoned the Gods - and in turn, the Gods have abandoned us.

But not you. Not our children. Teller of the Final Dark, don't you know your duty? You are the Cavetreader; you lead us into the shadows, where the flame can be lit again.

She let out a breath, looked away, and the spell was broken. She was Candle again; she his worried, tired mother, struggling to keep the remnants of their family together.

I want you to lead with me. Be our Mog-Ur.