Early Sarenith is the busiest time of the year for the church, with celebrations every day and preparations for the festival of Burning Blades. Add in the convention and the resulting demand for meetings and agitation in the city, and she starts feeling overwhelmed and losing sleep.

Then the riots swept through the city. Thankfully it did not touch the temple, but it did touch the congregation and their neighbors, and she has been swamped with healing duties, worries about the rain, listening to confessions, and worries about the perception of carrying flaming weapons in public a mere week after the city was aflame and murdering each other. She starts saving some of her lesser restorations for herself to get by on just naps. 

But their tradition is living, and their goddess is understanding, and one of the dukes visiting for the convention is willing to spend money like water. She buys out the stocks of a dozen chandlers, so the crowd can have candles to hold instead of torches. (It won't hold up to the dances, but few of the Chelish people know them anyway; she'll still have a flaming scimitar, along with the few she'll dance with, and the rest of them will have to watch or dance without flames.) He is, from her perspective, no theologian and an intellectual lightweight at best, but he at least knows the basics and when he offers to give the speech, she sighs with relief. 

The festival begins at sundown, as the new moon sets. Golarion's only celestial light is the dim light of the stars, and mankind must provide its own.

Simple street food is in abundance; both traditional Keleshite dishes, and ones more to Chelish tastes. Candles are free for the taking, more than a few slipped into pockets instead of held in hand. The congregants are dressed in white and blue, but most of the crowd are tourists attracted by the spectacle and the promise of free food.

She says a short benediction, and lights the bonfire in the center of the square with her magic. She puts her scimitar in the bonfire, and then activates its magical flames, to add to the theater; some chosen congregants put their torches in the bonfire, and then they head to the crowd, so they can set their candles alight, and then light their neighbor's candles.

Diyar lights Felip's torch, and then he steps atop a small box to address the crowd. He's addressed a company of men on a battlefield; he knows how to fill the square with his voice.

"For many of you, this is your first festival of Burning Blades. It is traditionally a celebration of Sarenrae's power and protection, but tonight it is Westcrown's re-introduction to the Goddess. Westcrown does not need a confident mob, ready to take on all comers. We had that a week ago, and have hopefully learned to regret that misplaced confidence. What Westcrown needs tonight is a reminder of the light inside us as well as the light outside us. 

It is written, The sun rises on the evil and on the good.

Sarenrae is a goddess of redemption, of patience, and of compassion. She does not extend that merely to her followers, those already good, and those already walking the path of righteousness. How could she be a redeemer if so? She extends them to all life; the light of the sun shines on all of us. The path of righteousness calls out to all of us. Sarenrae watches every step we take, loving us all the way, hoping that each step will be the one where we choose goodness, and understanding us if our rebellious hearts say: 'not yet'.

And she knows that when we say 'not ever', what we mean is 'not yet'. Some of you might wonder: how can I ever repent of what I have done? How can I ever be loveable? With my past, how could I ever clothe myself in blue and gold instead of red and black? I ask you in return: does the sun shine upon you? Then you live in Sarenrae's light already. Asmodeus said he owned you, and it was a lie. He said you were damned forever because of what he made you do, and it was a lie. Sarenrae says that she loves you, even with your faults and flaws, and that she is ready for you to choose a new life for yourself, and that is the greatest and kindest of all the truths I know.

There are three cores to the teachings of Sarenrae: that one should think good thoughts, that one should say good words, and that one should do good deeds.

You may have learned a twisted version of this from Asmodeus, whose servants read your thoughts, looking for disloyalty to punish. That is not what I mean; what I mean instead is that as thoughts cross your mind, you have the power to turn towards some and away from others. Some of those thoughts will be of what annoys you about others and what displeases you about the world. If a thought is the seed for evil in the world, turn away from it. Some of those thoughts will be of what you cherish about others and what pleases you about the world. If a thought is the seed for good in the world, turn towards that thought.

You may have learned a twisted version of this from Asmodeus, whose servants listened to your words, punishing you for speaking against them or failing to speak for them. That is not what I mean; what I mean instead is that words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world for the better. Watch the fruits of your tongue, and turn towards those that are pleasant and wholesome.

You may have learned a twisted version of this from Asmodeus, whose servants watched your deed, looking for errors to punish. That is not what I mean; what I mean instead is that your deeds impact those around you, and either lift them up or tear them down. If a deed damages those around you, forsake it. If a deed heals and helps those around you, embrace it.

There is a simple prayer to Sarenrae, which I hope you learn and give a special place in your heart:

Of all sins, I repent through penitence.

Of all sins, I repent with contrition.

Of all sins, I repent with prayer.

I thank you for your patience in listening to me prattle on, and now let us praise the immortal and radiant sun."

He jumps down from his box.

The music starts up; a dozen dancers with flaming scimitars surround the bonfire.

That's a fine speech, and if he wants to give it then more power to him. 

Sergi is getting a little old for dancing, but he and Gisella know the steps, and he can take a torch and show them two Chelish-blooded nobles joining in, not just Keleshites.

Lucia wasn't really listening to the sermon, it was too long, but she does pray a little bit.

"Dear Sarenrae I have never done anything evil in my entire life, but I hope you are having a good time up in the outer planes! Best of luck with redeeming all the bad people in Cheliax!"

Ooh dancing!

"Great Sareane, I see a bunch of people stealing your candles. Here are all of the ones I have names for and faces for the others. Please smite them and bless me."

Now time for some free food.

The speech was pretty boring, but the people dancing with flaming swords are really cool! And hey, he's not going to complain about free weird foreign food either.

He’s here too, and making sure to be visibly here! He’s fairly new to being a Sarenrite, of course - he’d first converted to the worship of Iomedae when the country was conquered, and took a bit to see where the winds of power were going to see the his Grace was the one to make friends with - but he’s had a couple of months to rectify his lack of knowledge. He’s quite satisfied with the decision; almost everyone who simply wanted to show off their loyalty professed allegiance to Iomedae, and had to compete with every other new Iomedaean to stand out, but it took enough longer for people to catch on to Sarenrae for him to have a significant head start. 

By now, he looks for all the world like he belongs. Sarenrae’s symbol rests on a necklace, finely made but not otherwise adorned; it was rather fortunate he’d learned in time that way to show loyalty was by paying the church to put in a good word for you rather than commissioning as expensive a sun as he could, so he didn’t have to pay a large penalty for cancelling his commission. His clothes are blue and decorated with white doves - fine enough to show off his means without looking like he’s trying to set himself above the clergy or be mistaken for them.

He’s here to light a candle and enjoy the festival, walking a fine line between being close enough to the Duke of Fraga he might be noticed without looking presumptuous about it. Even if he can’t speak with the man himself, perhaps one of his attendants will be available for conversation. You’ve also got to pray, since it wouldn’t do for the goddess or her church to be upset about the disrespect, but it was really remarkably easy to get himself to believe they were much better than the Asmodean ones.

"Come on, we have to dance! It'll be fun! It'll be great!" She pulls on Nuria's sleeve.

"Ah- I don't think I know the steps. I should- see if I have anything in my notes." She manages to get her sleeve loose from the Condesa's grip and sits down at a table.

After a few rounds of dancing, he takes a break, staying in his young form. He recognizes a few delegates from his duchy and approaches, giving them warm handshakes and smiles. "I'm glad you made it!"

Ok, that pastry was really too spicy. People like this? Oh, it's the Duke, better get rid of it--ok, his mouth was really the wrong place to stash that.

She briefly moves along the outskirts of the event, then leaves.  She wants to stay aware of the city’s events, but if it turns into a riot or mass arson or whatever she wants to be well clear of it.  From what little she sees it looks nice and fun, maybe the whole abbey can attend next year if the city goes that long without a riot or major public disturbance.

"I'm glad to be here, your Grace. My thanks to you and to the church of Sarenrae for hosting it."

...He doesn't get it. Not really. It's true that he regrets things. Those three babies, put out to freeze because that's what you do with babies when the weather's been harsh and the cleric's extra taxes have been high and-

Has he been doing good deeds? Perhaps. He adopted an orphan and has most diligently spent time with the kid, outside of convention hours. The tired maid who's hired to make sure he doesn't wander off during convention hours has held up her end, and he takes him back just as soon as he can. The boy's starting to speak proper Taldane. He plays games. Gives lessons. It's... Well, he knows he's getting soft, not doing farm work and instead trying to follow what everyone is saying and in just what ways it will inevitably screw over the little guy.

Has he been saying good words? Well, it's hard to tell, isn't it. Has he been thinking good thoughts? Resentful simmering about how the clerics and nobles are still going to screw over every peasant in the world, and how aside from his courage, damn his courage, to speak up a few times already, he's gone quiet, unable to truly follow the tumult of words and arguments in time to work up the confidence again. If the Archdukes, or more likely, the lower nobles, the Counts and so on, decide that inconvenient sortitions have to disappear after all this is over for interfering with their schemes...

Gods. Erastil preserve him from Hell. His wife, their children and grandchildren, too, will hopefully be far enough away from him to not be worth chasing down. Maybe he should send a letter telling her the location of his stash, so it's not just forgotten if that happens. It's barely more than a single day of stipend, anyway. What a thing to have agonized over so much last week.

Her eyes are watchful, her sense of people sharp, even if they are Chelish. She smiles at the thoughtful man in simple clothes, and then is elsewhere in the sea of people.

It won't be Crystalhue for half a year! Laia hears this festival is coming, wears blue, gives an evening service about how all the Good gods are friends, and hauls as much of her congregation to the festival as she can. Dancing! Whee!!!

Dancing is fun, and in this dress, excellent advertising!

Enric finds this version of the sun holy day confusing. The foods are strange. Everyone is using the foreign name for the sun, instead of just calling her ‘the sun’. They even changed the music.

The prayer is the same, though. It’s the important part— especially for people who have pushed someone off a bridge recently. Even if he had to do it, they just threw his friend off the same bridge… the second paladin in the rights committee said that even angels regret killing demons. These weren’t demons, they were people confused about who to fight. It’s not that hard to regret, compared to that, or to ask forgiveness from the sun for. 

Sarenrae has a cool festival where she gloats about how the sun can see everything and she’s going to take every soul? Then commands everyone to obey her will in every thought and action, even when no one is looking? Then brandishes flaming swords to make sure the message gets across? 

Hell yea! 

But also, scary. The thought of being a powerful demon in the abyss and then getting kidnapped and turned into a baby bird makes him sick. So does the thought of living his life as if halflings and peasants mattered. Even hell didn’t ask people to believe that obvious of a lie. 

He bows his head.

Holy Sarenrae,

I know you want me to turn towards Your Light, and I'm trying. I want to repent and be Yours, I want it nearly as badly as I've ever wanted anything. And I know You'd say anyone can turn towards Goodness, even me, but I don't know how.

Your priest was up there talking about how anyone has the power to choose to think Good thoughts and not Evil thoughts, only I don't think I do. I'll think about how upset I am with the neighbor's baby when she screams through the night, or how easy it would be to skim some coin at work, or how I wish I knew who it was who turned in Jasó so I could make them hurt like he did. And I want to stop, I wish I could stop, but no matter how hard I try I haven't managed to tear them out, like a poisonous weed that's rooted itself deep within me that I can't pull out no matter how hard I try. And I can choose not to let them drive me to Evil deeds, but Pharasma knows what's in my soul.

I've heard it said that regret is the first step to repentance, and I don't know if that's true, but no matter how hard I try, I can't regret all the things I did under Asmodeus. Or, I regret that I might go to Hell because of them, but I don't regret the rest of it. I, I liked it, I miss it, and I've stopped but I can't be glad about stopping, and I can't make myself wish I'd done anything different except that maybe it would make it easier to stay out of Hell. And I don't know how I could possibly say that I'm turning towards Your Light when I'm not even sorry.

Sarenrae, I don't know if You can tear out the wickedness in my heart, but if that's something You can do, then — please.