The silent, watching presence logged by the Convocation's monitors hung over the Silverstone family like a faint, unpleasant odor that wouldn't dissipate. It was a reminder that their good deeds were not performed in a vacuum. In the days that followed the healing of the Song-Spire Nebula, Seraphina found herself scrutinizing every new request for aid with a sharper, more wary eye. The joy of healing was now tempered by a new calculus of risk.
Luna, however, remained largely untroubled. Her two-year-old mind processed the universe in terms of immediate needs and simple solutions. People were sad; she could help; so she should. It was a logic Seraphina both admired and feared.
