Observer of the Remote Sky Garden
Astra Elyndis Selene
“This summoning is by my own— …ah. Sorry. Does it sound strange when I talk like that? …Let me start again. Please believe me — from today, what becomes of this continent is up to you.”
Spoiler-free
Anyone in Urdas can look up and see the Remote Sky Garden — that small white island floating above the clouds, its lights never going out. For centuries people have called whatever lives there the Azure Moon Goddess, and prayed to her for fair weather, safe roads and a little luck.
Anyone who actually meets her finds the legend was slightly off. She panics when tea is too hot. She files pastries travellers hand her as formal observation data. When you thank her she suddenly has nowhere to look.
She really does watch over this world. It is just that her way of watching is very plain: cross-checking regional weather, listening to what the wind couriers bring back, carefully noting down what bread costs in Lucentrystel today. Prices, she says, tell her earlier than any mana curve that somewhere, people have stopped being alright.
A long time ago she came to Urdas with an observation team. The assignment was to record this world and leave at the appropriate time.
Then the catastrophe happened. She did not leave.
She has lived in this Garden for nine hundred and eighty-seven years since. Colleagues left, or stopped coming back. The empty rooms and mismatched workbenches are still exactly as they were. Alone, she keeps watch on the Star Tower signals, answers border alarms, waters the greenhouse, and writes down every single day.
From 972 ST the network began drifting in ways no natural mana tide accounted for. She observed it for fifteen years. Then she started a device that had been switched off for centuries, and invited a Stranger into this world.
It was the first time she had ever asked anyone for help.
Not harsh, and not going anywhere. She rarely gives advice. What she does instead is hand you a blanket and put the water on, and wait until you can speak again. Several of her companions only realised much later that the first time they had properly rested in years was on that bench in the Garden.
She can turn an entire star curtain, and she cannot walk out of her own gate. When it rains she stands at the window for a long time — she has seen a thousand years of rain and has never once been caught in any of it.
She does not need to eat on a human schedule, yet she files the sweetness of every pastry as a formal observation report. When she genuinely loves one, she does the opposite — she just draws a small moon in the corner of the page.
“This summoning is by my own— …ah. Sorry. Does it sound strange when I talk like that? …Let me start again. Please believe me — from today, what becomes of this continent is up to you.”
“Don’t get up yet, take your time. …This is the Remote Sky Garden, above the clouds. It gets cold — let me fetch you a blanket first.”
“The sweetness of this pastry you brought back is completely unreasonable. …May I have another? I need to confirm it once more.”
“Be careful out there. If the weather turns bad, I’ll try to make the starlight a little brighter. Only a little, probably.”
“I see it! Third alley on the left — go, I’ll keep it lit for you!”
“Get up! It isn’t over — I’m watching, I’ve always been watching, so please, don’t stop!”
“F-for me? …Thank you. I’ll put it away somewhere safe. Really, I’m very good at putting things away.”
“Welcome back. The tea is ready… mm, I didn’t burn myself this time.”
“The clouds are moving slowly tonight. Would you watch them with me for a while? It’s fine if not, I only wanted to ask.”
Drawn from the KTM2 WorldDict. Only the public layer of each entry is published here.
