Phaedra puts her head in her hands, and rests her elbows on the table, which is now covered in glass. Cal, Lani, Irving, and Katja gather around her, looking glum.
Phaedra: No... He's right. I dragged out out of the deep... but for what? A couple more months of shame and hunger? All I've done is delay things... He'll still make us all suffer in the end. I didn't save you at all — I CURSED you.
Cal puts a hand on Phaedra's shoulder. She looks up, a tear falling from her eye.
Cal: If I may speak frankly, Miss Philemon:
She turns to face him. He looks at her solemnly, with a hand on his chest.
Cal: I am an old man, your Highness. I feared death the same as any, but my end was no tragedy — it was my time. But you, Miss Leina, Master Ellery... and even Miss Katja... Your candles were just beginning to burn. For you all to be extinguished by the tides so soon... The world would be darker indeed.
Phaedra is surrounded by her friends as Cal continues to speak. He holds the teacup, ready for her to grab again whenever she's ready. She looks more surprised than sad now.
Cal: You have given you friends a chance to rekindle their flames. And you have allowed me to see dozens more golden sunrises. In what world could that possibly be considered a curse?
