Pageantry of Rhiannon, the star of stars, Ishvara of the Nebula Court
I must get used to this voice, I must get used to appearing lesser, so that I may become greater. I must be the meek mouse, the little mouse, the mouse that jumps, that creates its own water and only comes out at night where the heat of the sun does not touch it. Only then will I touch the stars that are my birthright, starting by replacing the weak and unfit. My legend singing an hymn of grace in those who hear it, humbling them in its majesty. First I must manipulate this weak mortal, make him believe what I want him to believe. It will be easy, he's not even used to the atmosphere of the court, or it's special... properties.
Argh, clearly this mortal, this Life is a Dream of a Dream is more than he appears, he has not pierced my own veils, but he is surprisingly resistant to glamour, and acts at least two levels above any mortal I've yet encoutered. But he believes me, he believes I'm on his side, that is all that matters.
And now he has escaped! But the Constable reassures me that this is all according to his plan! How could he have known? What narrative is this? Whose plots does he really weave? Perhaps the Church of Balor's, they are stronger than ever in the counsel of the court now. Or our ancient enemy: Ketu, perhaps that is why The Constable reached us untrammeled. I must ponder this.
Children
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