Rose from the River recognizes that fatal moment. How can she not? That moment of hesitation. When someone’s heart gets in the way of their sword, and they leave themselves wide open.

It’s never been her. Did you know that? When she was the monster that haunted the Burrows, that moment was her cruelest weapon. Thief of faces, ruiner of hearts! But on Chen’s face, there’s none of that oh-so-familiar hurt and betrayal that Rose from the River remembers from these moments.

No, she recognizes this from a different place. From her own face, pale and gaunt and noble, with painted lips and a gauzy veil. It is desire, need, interlaced with fear that you will be tested and found wanting, that you are incapable of even knowing what you do not know, like a blind woman who has been told that the very culmination of the Way lies just across a bridge as thin as a knife. Rose’s heart aches in sympathy for Chen’s—

But foxes are still bringers of miracles, aren’t they? And Cyanis, for all her fox crimes, brought Chen here. She brought Chen where she needed most to be, where she could be confronted with someone confident and knowledgeable, willing to initiate her into those seemingly impenetrable mysteries.

So when Rose screams wordlessly for Chen, straining against her bonds, eyes wide, her heart throbs in time with Chen’s own. She knows this story, sweet little princess. She knows that sometimes, dreams are kind, and the world is in truth eager to guide you across that perilous bridge. So know defeat, Chen, just as First of the Radiants knew defeat in soft silk and gentle hands!