Silver Creek where have you buried all your children?

There was much to be done, yet so little worthy of a Queen's hand upon it. Thalassa quickly grew restless. In her grief she sought to occupy her mind with work, even work far below her station. Within the blooming forest she sought homes for her siblings, somewhere the nobility might den together away from the rabble. Nothing so far had caught her eye.

It was when she finally allowed herself a small rest to break her fast that the Prophet approached. Thalassa glanced down sharply from where she rested upon a tall boulder, stomach souring immediately. Haedwig had been a faithful servant, of course. Diligent and wise as her station required. Yet it was her prophecy which had torn Thalassa from her home, from her heart —

Orestes, whispered from the grief-stained marrow of her bones, yet Thalassa would not listen. Could not. Her mouth tightened as she regarded Haedwig for a moment. As well as one might expect, she allowed, dark tail sweeping back in a splay of sunlit obsidian. And you, Wise One?