[SWE] The Festival of Fiat Lux!

Phoebe

I've been very hopeful so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is all a dream
Or could we start again, please?

Chaos. Utter Chaos. And it was in part because she had not been strong enough. None of them had. In the end, even after Frey evened the playing field, they had failed to save anyone from the mud monster. The Festival was ruined, and lives were being lost at a rapid pace. Covered in mud, exhausted from the exertion, Phoebe rushed through the carnage, searching for the boys. "Pim! Go get my supplies from the college!" she shouted to the pink dragon, who flew off quickly to get what she had asked for. "Cormac! Rhett! Jax!" she shouted over the din, praying they were alright.

What she found was far from it.

They could have easily been missed in the debris. But one little arm caught her foot, making her stumble. Brown eyes widened, breath catching, as through the sheets of ice that buried them she made out three little blonde heads. No! The midwife fell to her knees, tugging and digging up sheets of ice with a renewed strength she had not known she had, summoning it up from some place deep in her soul, pushing her body to its very limits. A sob caught in her throat as the last piece of heavy ice was tossed aside, and there lay the three boys huddled together, Cormac on top, having tried to protect his brothers, Rhett's glasses as cracked and broken as his bones, and Jax still clutching a sugary treat. It had been quick. It had been near instant. They hadn't stood a chance, their little bodies far too weak and small to bear the blow of ice falling upon them from such height. A sound Phoebe had heard before, but not ever quite made herself, broke through her lips - a mother's cry at beholding the death of her children. Gently she scooped their limp forms into her arms, cradling them against her chest as she sobbed into muddy, bloody blonde hair. Not again, not again! Her precious nephews, her own flesh and blood, as close to her own sons as she had ever known, gone in an instant.

Because she hadn't been strong enough.

She did not know how much time passed as she held the bodies of the triplets, crying with abandon, before a nudge pulled her from her spiral of mourning. She looked over to see Pim, bag of medical supplies in his maw, staring at her intently. Then the din of cries and screams around them broke through the haze of mourning. Others still suffered. Others still died. Cormac, Rhett, and Jax...their rest was with Mort now. There was nothing she could do. But there were those who she could help, and now was not the time for her to neglect that duty. She steeled herself, hiding her heart and pain behind iron doors of strength she pulled from Pim. She carefully pulled the boys out and laid them next to others who had fallen, gently covering them with a cloth before looking around to see who she could help.

A voice calling for a healer breaks through the din - Wessex if she placed it right - and Phoebe went running in the direction. Seeing Melita so hurt was shocking, knowing how strong the girl was, but it was no time to falter. "Let me see her." she said, an undertone of command in Phoebe's voice. It wasn't usually her nature to be so forceful, but now was not a time to be timid. She had to take charge. Quickly she worked to see what might be wrong, the musical stethoscope in her ears as she listened for where the issues in Melita's body were. "She just has breaks. I can set these for now so the Abandoned healers can tend to more life threatening wounds. Once set you can carry her out of here." Phoebe said to the former Queen, already grabbing the supplies she needed to set Melita's broken limbs.

But then of course magic suddenly appeared from nowhere. Phoebe looked to see the caster, and glared at Loren in the distance. "Loren! Focus on the dying, not the injured!" she shouted, command in her tone.