One chance. Perennial had one chance to convince Cas'alear Rizah, heir to two thrones, that cas' impulse was not incorrect. That their desire to change the galaxy, to end the Perfect Millennium, and with it, perhaps, the Divine Principality, was not only righteous but realistic. And that she, as the medium of their message, was not the great manipulator, the perpetual puppetmaster, the devil at the heart of the galaxy, the Adversary.
And it's true that this was new to her.
A single opportunity, no review, just the blur
of raw decisions, fresh occasions, beautifully in risk.
Fixed perspective, looking forward, open nerves and bliss.
So the question was what tack should she take,
what plan should be unfurled, which pearl of wisdom staked.
Cas'alear's a hero, in posture if not creed.
How crisp a whisper should she whisper to make the Princept heed?
Views of blood and fire, that had often done the trick.
And it needn't be a lie to share her vision as the Eye.
The Eye that couldn't close, that counted broken bones,
and broken hearts, and broken lips, and broken vows, and broken homes.
But before she could speak, something tore into her.
A voice on the air, a splice in her soul.
An intractable emotion, a motion without fear.
A spinning wheel that spins out steel, a cursed pretender peer.
And that's when she decided the truth just wouldn't do.
Cas had seen the world. Cas already knew
about blood and steel, death and fracture, hopelessness and pain.
Cas needed something else, a dream of clean spring rain.
So she offered cas a secret. Said it kept her warm in cold.
Then took her countless failures and filtered them with gold.
Turned loss to celebration, showed victories unfold,
then told a lie worth dying by: in all the other worlds I spy,
we've already won.
”
