"Well... there's nothing else here," Nari says hesitantly after a pause long enough to be a look around, "At least, not that I can see."

Maybe it was Sina. Or whatever spirit was wearing her shape. There were other things across the Veil besides horrors, weren't there? The spirits like Faith, and Hope, and Justice, the ones that helped Anders, Christine. Sam. And what isn't hopeful, about even the smallest things like making little bags of tea. We don't make things that we don't think will be used. Seen. Read. By someone else, if not ourselves. Everything we make, little floating lights sent forward.

"A little thin, maybe," Nari grants, "but she always had more eyes than face. More spirit than body. I used to carry her around like she weighed nothing—less than."