“Her power, its facets many, has revealed itself many times and in innumerable forms, each almost too glorious to behold! Look upon them now, gaze at these creations, each a fragment of her endless power! Ah, but listen true, do not touch them, for to do so is to invite their ire, and such is a thing that one must be careful not to kindle.” – Thelys Maer’ator, High Cathyrian Priest and Steward of the Guardian Order.

Upon the pedestal, sheathed in a dull morose light which emanates as if from nowhere, is what may have once been the bone of some fell beast’s limb. It is smooth and without blemish, its color pale and lifeless, the weapon bears only one distinctive marking. ‘Pon its hilt are red and maroon engravings, each carved with impossible precision, they depict beating hearts, each skewered by a thorn and bleeding.

The Placard beneath it reads, “Forged in Our Lady’s essence pure, this woeful blade is a terrible thing indeed. Suffused with a despairing heartbreak more true than any other, it does not kill, but its every strike drives thy foe further into the clutches of sorrow. Though it is composed of bone, its name arose from the fact that with enough contact with the blade–be ye its wielder or its victim–the heartbreak seeps into you, soaking even your bones. Those touched by it are surely cursed by Melainea herself, for as life leaves them, so too does color and substance as they dissolve into naught but grotesque mush."

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Surrounded by four rings of consecrated chain, all shining a different hue and emitting each their own subtle hum, are two intertwined spirals of stone. They are anchored to the floor such that it would be impossible to move them. One appears as if carved of marble, the other of obsidian. They shine from within, the light they emit that of their polar opposite in color. Even standing many paces away, out of reach even of the consecrated chains, one is struck by a strange twisting pair of emotions. However, so separated from the monolith–for indeed it stretches almost to the high ceiling of the great cathedral–it is impossible to tell precisely what these feelings might be, only that they are in fierce opposition of one another.

The Placard–placed several feet from the outermost ring of silver chain–reads as such. “A testament to the dual nature of emotion, and indeed, our most cherished and revered goddess, these spiral pillars are a gift. Still, we warn against approaching such a powerful edifice, for the unprepared are unlikely able to resist their power. Ah, and do not be fooled by their fanciful name, they earned it in honor of the king who fell to its power. As, when exposed directly to its resonance–yes that faint pull you now feel–one is split in twain. The Shadow is unleashed from within, given form and power both. This dreadful doppelganger and its glowing counterpart of Light are destined only to doom the other. It was through the Chime’s influence that Bountiful Lheiran–and his empire–were laid to waste, divided by him and his Shadow, and driven to war.

For this reason, the Chime carries with it another name, a far simpler thing.

Yes, some folk only call it ‘Discord.’”

^{Perhaps though, it is better to understand Melainea as mortals would. Thus, in the interest of greater learning, we the Cathyrian Church present the following.}

"Fickle is too little a word to encompass she Our Lady Melainea. No, for she is beyond such mortal things, she is above them, greater than. Indeed, any mortal experience is far too constrained by our very nature to compare. Yet, in my studies and my musings, through my many interviews with survivors and witnesses alike, I have discovered a commonality. We share some aspect of our psyche with her--no! She shares it with us, I think. Yes.

For though she is above curiosity, she is curious. Inquisitive as she gazes upon our world, and us, its inhabitants. There is always a glimmer in her gaze, I am told, and I believe that it simply must be this part of her nature. I daresay that curiosity is indeed something foundational for her, it must be for her to interact with, and observe us as much as she does. After all, is she not Emotion and Experience itself? Is it not the greatest desire of all feelings to be seen and acknowledged? I think it simply must be so. She is the Psyche of this world, all its feelings and impressions, observing its reflection in us and we our own in her." -- Aldyran Caste, A Cathyri Scholar.

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"As I write this I am in hiding. I can scarcely tell you where, my dear reader, but I can say this...no place is truly safe from the clutches of the Cathyrian Church. As the Church has burned all of my published work, I sit here scrawling down my thoughts so that perhaps one day they might be seen by someone of like mind.

"Though I feel I may not have the time to explain the precise nature of my predicament, know this: I have been excommunicated from the Church, and exiled by the state for my beliefs. They are as such. Our Lady--to whom I still owe not only my faith but now my life--is as much a fool as any man can be. She is naive and ignorant to the precise experience of us mortals, whether clad in scales or fur or flesh. The Church will not hear of such things, they think me a blasphemer and a charlatan who calls Our Lady Melainea a simpleton. Tis not so, by this I swear! It is simply that if she is to be the truest Crucible of all emotion, as we believe her to be--nay--as she has told us she is, then she must be as foolish as she is wise. Perhaps, I say, her Callousness arises from such a place. Perhaps it is not that she is sometimes a cruel mistress, burdening men and mer with misery through a desire to see us suffer. I refuse to believe this! To say that she is cruel is to imply intent to harm! The clergy think to control the public perception of their god and so they cannot have a detractor such as I--a man who once had high standing, whose word was well respected, and widely known--contradict them.

"So it is, here, and in other places, I write these words.

"Cath Melainea is not cruel, nor is she kind. She is the Crucible. She is the lady of misery and bliss both. To us, her children, she gives of herself so that we might experience the world, and perhaps so she might experience us in return!

"And if it is a clergyman, indeed, an inquisitor even, who reads this. Curse you. Your Church cannot control, nor contain the truth!

"Know that even should you catch me, that my word will live on, for I cannot, will not, be silenced!" -- Ela'Kaern Unas Haran; Genius, Scholar, Madman.

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"We mortals will never know the inscrutable aims of the gods, yet I cannot help but wonder at the angle of the deity the Cathyri call 'Cath Melainea'. The religious literature--and much of what the Cathyri claim to be factual (though I severely doubt it)--consitently characterizes her as a loving goddess. They speak of her with reverence and respect, rather than fear and trepidation. Yet, this seems to me in direct contrast to the precise consequences of their goddess' influence.

"For, was it not the 'loving' gaze of Melainea that drove Eddrick Cathiel to madness, and his country to ruin? Did the goddess, that flaming Crucible of violet flame not appear before Mystaiphies and render her--once the finest singer in the land, adored by all--a wretched, ruinous siren, driving all who heard her into a state of complete insensibility, as if they had at once become merely husks of their former selves? I believe that it was.

"I simply do not see the love in these actions, nor the benevolence or kindness. To me, these seem the acts of a callous, uncaring goddess. A malign entity that desires only that we mortals suffer, be it in unending, uncontrollable bliss, or ruinous sorrow. So, with each passage I read from these 'respectable' scholars I wonder: If she is not a loving goddess and her aim is thus not to nurture us, her children, then what other goal might her actions suggest?

"Though I am sure few will heed what I say, I nonetheless must confess my belief and record it upon the page. She is not our mother, after all, she did not create us. What proof have we of such in the first place? None. Yet, I know what the clergy, these so-called scholars would say and to them I say this. Yes, I understand, one does not need to be a mother to care, or to nurture. One need not even understand someone to care for them, or to treat them with kindness. However, to truly care for another, to nurture them, you must desire for them the best. This desire can be skewed, slightly twisted even, but above all else it cannot be wholly selfish. It is a thing of compassion, of empathy.

"Cath Melainea, the Violet Bitch, she has never shown us anything resembling such compassion. Passion, certainly! Kindness? Perhaps. Yet, when the clergy come to you, preaching of their goddess, remember this.

"Every recorded act, even as biased as the texts are in her favor--written to serve the interests of the Church--paints her as a being of selfish want. Why does she change us? Why does she change our world? Why does she interact with us, and so often at that? To sate her own curiosity. To experience a fragment of what we 'lesser' creations might feel. She changes us, because she must, it is in her nature as it is in the scorpion's to sting and she is little more than that.

"A scorpion, though with divine ichor running through her veins." -- Taltherian Cray, Lord of Herice, a cynic, a scholar, a tyrant.

"The Truest Guise of Cath Melainea is best understood through an experiential lens as to attempt to describe it in simple terms is a misleading and troublesome thing. Still, despite this, I will try."

^{Poetic reimaginings created from various accounts of those who survived the manifestation of our Lady Melainea.}

"She was a turning mirror, reflecting minds, each consciousness a burning flame, drowning all else, mixing...diffusing. A maiden, a mother, a crone ensconced in effervescent violet flames. A metallic fractal, containing coruscating light, crystalline and pure, yet malignant and destructive." - Thellasi Poet Carian Sarr.
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"Two orbs, a pair of shining eyes blossoming before my own, her gaze, it ensorcelled me, wrapped me in its embrace. As we stared, I upon her, and she into my secret self, my hidden soul, a felt a stirring within my brow and beneath my breast. Like a burning flame of terrible bliss, agonizing in its intensity, I was overcome with emotion until at last, I became it!" - A Violet-eyed survivor.
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"Soothing warmth, purest duress, I was enlightened. Without her there is only the burning cold of this emotionless world. Men hide their feelings behind a terrible mask we call a face. I call them blasphemy! Ye apostate who would deny expression, deny truth, deny her sorrow and her love! Shame! Shame!" - A scholar of the sciences, driven to feverish madness.