Memory 5: Letter from Sister Lucia to Sister Nimue

Sister Nimue,

I’m writing this in a spare moment between appointments. I know you’ve got more pressing matters, but something from last night’s Lunar Vigil won’t leave me be.

While I was setting the altar beneath the east bridge, a man appeared behind me—dock-worn hands, quiet posture. I admit, I thought him a rogue at first. But he introduced himself as Thomas Langton, a student sent by Chaplain Alura to observe. I was skeptical, but he knew the rites. Not just the broad strokes—he corrected my basin placement. I was flustered.

He stayed in the back during the vigil, silent among the Chamber acolytes. I did catch him chatting briefly with one of the brothers, but a glance from me quieted him.

Then, at the height of the vigil, a beam of light descended into the central pool. The waters rippled in nested spheres. All the celebrants stopped. Except Thomas. He continued praying, lips moving. Only when he noticed the silence did he stop. And only then did the light fade.

I don’t know what to make of it. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something. I leave it to you.

In salt and service,

S. Lucia