did the full moon force my hand?
Thia had seen too much and not enough in her short lifetime. She’d seen regimes rise and fall. She’d been a witness to murder. She’d become participant in murder. She’d been denied all her freedoms and been given too much. She struggled to adjust, having lived a life defined by two extremes.
As a child she’d been bound - imprisoned. Every moment of every day was predictable. Stable. Her purpose was black and white. She was to serve, without question. It was all she had ever known.
And now? Now she was nothing but a whisper on the wind. No direction. No stability. Finally she had the freedom she’d always longed for, but she’d lost the sense of purpose that she’d once clung too. That purpose had given her life, as depressing and restricted as it was, meaning.
Here, in this place? Thia had nothing. No title. No purpose. No home. It wore on the pale priestess, it led her to pace during the day and to lie awake at night. Anxiety and indecision seeped into her bones. What now? What next?
Questions plagued her and the answers seemed so elusive. So when others had come to the cove, Thia had not answered the call. And in the days following, the cove seemed to empty. Thia remained, feeling more alone than perhaps she ever had even when she lived isolated and in chains.
She huffed a sigh, and turned her gaze back out over the sea. Despite the predicament she found herself in - she couldn’t bring herself to regret what had happened. She just wished there was something - anything - she could do to help define a future in this land she didn’t seem to understand.