Beryl slipped into a place between light and dark, where colors bled together and sang. She could feel her body sway in time with the heavenly music, a forgotten language dripping off her tongue. She would dance among the shadows and the slashes of light, worshipping the woman on the moon. She would pray for good harvest, mild winter, and – secretly and selfishly – for the Prince Endymion to see her as more than a wide-eyed priestess.

She prayed under the influence of her piety until the Prince got tangled in a white witch’s web. After that, she never prayed again.