Halea stands before the crowd in a ceremonial black gown, draped in black feathers and cyan jewels, with the same decorations Cheth had on his cape - just with a different symbol replacing his TH. On her face, a carved black headdress of a dark bird with a curved beak, and white feathers cresting its cyan eyes. She raises a hand and speaks.
Halea: DEVOTEES OF CHELINE! Not even one year has passed since this sacred pyre bore the body of Pharos Philemon into the four great wings of the mother goddess... and tonight, far too soon, it will convey his daughter Phaedra to his side.
Beneath the mask - in its open, frowning mouth - Halea's smile pierces through. She raises a hand, invitingly.
Halea: But the future is for another day; tonight is for your Queen-Admiral. Though Lord Cheth has undoubtedly claimed the faded remnants of Phaedra's soul... her fragile bones are safe in our keeping, and the blessings of Cheline may yet protect her mortal remains.
