when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see

To be hidden under the cover of night was no longer such an inviting promise of security and obscurity. The shadows cut across the grass like knives, piercing the moonlight, tearing at its sterling mantle and shredding the twilit tranquility. The Thief had once believed that the island would be impenetrable, elevated as it was. The Basin might have been a fortress of snow, a formidable stronghold with ramparts of ice and weathered stone, but the protection it offered was not quite so promising as Caela Insula's. Roland had to believe, or at the very least hope, that nothing the Gods did not want upon the fields of their creation would find passage to its doorstep. But lately he had begun to question that expectation, and wondered if their safety was still a promised thing. Perhaps it had fallen out of the Gods' hands. First the festival, shattering the revelry of their lantern lit escapades, and now this.

The Thief had no urge to involve himself in the gory enigma, with little promise of invulnerability and every risk of danger. He might have thrived on that lifestyle many years ago, but now he had walked the warpath one too many times, and was keen as always to escape the threat of conflict. Unfortunately this seemed to be a tragedy he could not ignore, spurred on by a fragile sense of purpose and a shred of confidence in his own abilities. After all, how could he turn a blind eye and risk gambling with the life of a friend, an ally? He may not have been enthusiastic, throwing himself in the midst of a mystery- and he was no keen problem solver. But he was invested, for better or for worse. And he was not alone.

Try as he might, Roland could not seem to shake the image of Vesta from his mind. He had moved to Lena's side after witnessing the Gods' speech- a spectacle in itself, but one he did not have the time to dwell on at the moment- eager to search out a familiar face in the wake of a tragedy. On his own, the Thief would not have dared consider playing a role in finding the one responsible for Vesta's death, but the idea of it did not seem so daunting if others were willing to do the same. He glanced at the winged mare who had voiced her agreement with Lena's proposal, and gave a wary nod of his own. "We should do what we can," he acquiesced, glancing around at their party and hoping they four would be enough.