Selenne: "Forgive me!". She laments it all. Every thought, every emotion, every terrible decision made out of abject fear and complete selfishness.

Morne: Sobs. Three sisters cradle each other. One sobs a little louder. The other two hold her extra tight. This is the day they were harmed, one and a half ages ago, when they were punished for doing what was right.

Selenne: "If I could take it all back...". She knows she can't. But if she could, she would. If only she could.

Morne: Sobs die down. One opens her mouth to speak, remembering how wonderful the Pale Queen looked when material sight was first awoken. She remembered the look of Tartary in that light, how it shimmered on the waters surrounding the land in its midst. Selenne was that beautiful. This morne remembers giving Arun a knowing smile as the silver maiden wrapped her arms around his brawny neck and laid her head on his shoulder. This morne remembers fondly how those two children, suddenly matured, came to grips with their sacred commission to hold close the noble metals and safeguard sight of the materium. They were besotted with each other in a most precious way, a most deep and complete and unending way. Their love was so pure, so innocent, and as Arun lowered his proud and noble head, crowned as it was by luminous flax that shimmered with heat, as his dark brow rested against the foam upon the open sea that is Selenne's hair, Othomo came to see the lights, and this morne laughed so loudly when they ran from him. His face... Othomo was a boy who seemed would never not be young. He looked at them so mischievously, and he chased them with absolute glee, completely unaware of the genuine dread they felt of the darkness that spread behind him from under his aventail.

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Selenne: (smiling through tears) "We were both so terrified. We had no idea such awful things would happen."

Morne: Anger. Selenne was not forgiven, how dare she try to act as if she were; chatting about old times like a close friend! Selenne is cut off, and they sob again, cradling each other until the turn has passed. With sore throats and tear stung eye sockets, gouged empty long ago, they resume crafting their careful plan to murder Yannis.