Brivelle was once a bustling town with a booming trade in invention, research, and study of power. Crafters’ and artisans’ shops had lined the main thoroughfare, with godlights twinkling on posts up and down the lane.

Now it was dark, broken down. People were begging in the streets. Lia’s heart broke to see it. As a temple investigator serving Mahreth, she had been to Brivelle dozens of times over the years to check safety regulations were being upheld and the local power cell was meeting its yearly quotas.

In all those visits, she had never seen it quite as disheartened as it seemed now.

"This is the third village we have seen like this," commented her assistant, Dara. "What is causing it?"

Her sentiments echoed Lia’s own thoughts as they rode their gorgoth mounts through the town. Passerby cast scornful glances at their uniforms – their white tunics and powder blue sashes marking them as servants of Mahreth.

"They must feel our Mistress has abandoned them." Lia’s eyes passed over the high tower to the North of the village, marking where the power cell was housed. The beacon atop it, normally brilliant as a star, was dim, barely holding its own against the late evening sun. "And with good reason."

Dara sat up, rigid in her saddle. "My lady?"

"Can you blame them? Their beacon is dark, the godlights are out – her power is clearly absent from this place."

"But – something must be preventing her from reaching them. Mahreth would never turn her back on a faithful cell."

A mix of nostalgia and annoyance at her assistant’s blind faith caused her to spur her mount onward, heels clacking against the beast’s scaled side.

Together, they thundered up the hill where the power cell and its sister temple rested. The smooth, milky-white sides of the building were grimy, the windows unwashed, ornamental flowers wilting in their garden beds. The place looked abandoned, uncared for. Only one lone priest was there to greet them.

"Greetings, High Investigator Markava." He bowed low, hands pressed together in a gesture of their shared priesthood. "Welcome to Brivelle."

He had lit candles throughout the temple’s main hall, and the room reeked of beeswax and smoke.

"I apologize for the state of the temple." He rambled, leading them into the depths of the sanctuary to a wide pair of ornate doors that led to the inner workings of the cell. "The last two months, numbers have fallen, and many of our acolytes found their doubts to be louder than their faith." He was sweating in the crowded warmth of the dozens of candle flames.

Lia adjusted her sword, allowing the small godlight in its hilt to wash clean blue-white light over one of the altars. It was littered with white flowers, small bits of ore, and prayer tokens woven in Mahreth’s colors of blue and white silk. "It would seem some, at least, still believe."

"Yes. We and the faithful pray daily for our Mistress’ return, and for her to reveal to us whatever error we have made that caused us to earn her disfavor." He mopped his brow with his sleeve and looked at the two priestesses with wide, hopeful eyes. "Is that why you have come? Have you word from the goddess?"

Dara opened her mouth to answer, but Lia stepped between her assistant and the priest. She focused her connection to Mahreth so that the stone around her neck – the proof of her status as one who’d been Touched by the gods – came to life, casting otherworldly shadows on her face. "Your faith will be rewarded, brother. Mahreth has heard your prayers."

He practically vibrated with fervor, rattling off prayers and blessings of gratitude at a rapid clip. Lia let this go on for a few breaths before she lifted a hand. "Peace. Take us to the cell. We must tend to the Heart."

"Yes! But of course. Right this way." He unlocked the door and held it open to them.

"May I have the keys? My assistant and I require full access," she paused. "And not to be disturbed."

"Right, yes. Of course." He placed the key ring in her palm, damp and hot and smelling of old copper. "I shall be here if you need anything else."

Lia waited until the door had shut behind her before releasing her breath and popping her neck. "The fans must be out of order just like everything else in this town. Let’s make it quick."

She slipped the Touchstone from her neck, lifting it high to serve as a lantern as they descended into the darkness of the power cell.

Dara glared at her as they walked. "Why were you not honest with him? He thinks they did something wrong."

Lia sighed. She missed her previous assistant, Gabriela. She was just as naïve as this one, but shy. Quiet. "Believers expect a certain degree of theatrics from us. It inspires them." There were fewer candles lining the sloping corridor that drew them underground. She raised her light higher. "Besides, what would you have me say? Do you want me to tell them, ‘Sorry, sir. Mahreth in her infinite wisdom has not a damned clue what is causing your people to starve.’"

Lia left out the fact that the goddess was more concerned with Brivella’s lack of output, and had only listened to their prayers after she discovered their numbers were low. Dara’s passionate little heart would break if she heard that… and she’d likely call Lia out as a heretic. There would be tribunals and hearings and Lady’s blood she didn’t have the time for that.

"No…" Her assistant fidgeted the white staff she carried. "But it wouldn’t hurt to assure him of her love, would it?"

They reached the thick door to the Heart, and Lia squinted to find the right key in the gloom. "I’ll tell you what. When we’ve solved this little mess, and I’ve put on my show of goddess-touched magic bringing this place back to life, you can assure him all you want."

Dara was about to protest again, but Lia got the door open just in time.

The Heart was nearly dark. The great pool of magic that should have been blinding, should have pulsed like liquid starlight in the shaft, ready to overwhelm the workers should they ever disregard the dozens of strict safety protocols, was barely more than the blinking ass of a starfly.

"By the Sisters," Dara whispered at the dimness of the room. "It’s just like Addendale."

It was like Addendale. And Rothisport, and the two other cells Lia had read about in the reports her fellows had brought back.

The power was gone. Ellaster’s heart was going dark.