[Pandora Karsalia]

The night was drawing to a close. There would be celebrations for a week yet, honoring the ascension of the dead, solidifying the joys and hopes of the living, but the ceremonies would be over soon. She had given them speeches, promises, endless smiles, assurances that the days would only continue to grow brighter over the next year. Sometimes, it even felt real.

Pandora sat at the head of the Queen's table, exhausted, surrounded by two-dozen of her highest Lords. The feast had ended some time ago, but the celebration would go on until the dawn's sun forced Toamna's quiet light from the sky.

She let herself be distracted by Ildounne and his troupe of entertainers, spinning, leaping, and cartwheeling across the festival hall, twirling firebrands amid streams of silk. His request to perform for the Nox had come as a surprise to Pandora, but there had been something genuine in his eyes as he'd asked, depthless trust in her. It meant more than anything else had to her so far today.

What had happened in the last year? Why did tonight feel so empty, so superficial? True, it had been a year of peace, but what kind of Queen allowed herself to grieve only in times of war? What kind of heart wept only at spectacular deaths?

It was true, though. So little had happened that the Nox seemed more ritual, a gesture to long forgotten days. Was this what the future would hold for her, the passions of her youth receding until the world became a place of drudging motions and routine? Could complacency be the birthplace of tyranny?

Pandora sighed. She was too tired to trust her own thoughts. Instead, she let her eyes wander over the spinning flames and swirling colors of the dancers. Better to enjoy the night for what it was. This was what she had fought for, after all.

Music mixed with voices, rhythms, and murmurs among the shadows of the hall, the gleam of candle-flame on white gowns and vestments. She could the sheen of sweat on Ildounne's painted face in the firelight, the exuberant grin as he juggled a score of burning brands. Such talent... how long had it been denied to the world, save in scornful mockery at Maesha's foot? It gave Pandora hope to see Ildounne in such good spirits.

The scene was enchanting, mesmerizing, but there was... something else, suddenly, demanding her attention. Discordant. Though the magic had fled her with the destruction of the Book of Secrets, the Queen still retained a sense for the presence of unearthly powers, and something shuddered in the hall now.

Air rippled, displaced by forces unseen. Stark sound rang in Pandora's ears, distant bells shattering again and again. Coldness crawled over her skin. The flames died.

Darkness breathed, echoed with hushed gasps. Pandora sat straight in her chair, the carved oak digging against her spine. Something stood between the grand doors of the hall, drawing every gaze, holding every heart helpless.

Light crawled at the goddess's feet. Every step she advanced spread sickly silver, brightening and cold.

Pandora struggled to breathe, not for the crushing presence making its way toward her, but for the familiarity of the divine figure.