((http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4Bs52HGVBc))

Everyone was at St Grumble's Feast. Everyone except Abeline.

She wasn't in the infirmary. She wasn't in the Library. Not the gardens. Not Parford Wing. The healer didn't seem to be anywhere. There wasn't even a light under her dorm room's door.

She was in there, however. The curtains were drawn, and she was laying in bed, in total darkness, or as near to it as she could get. She was not asleep.

The scrying bowl on her desk sat empty. Next to it, a red box, ungiven, bore a tag marked, "For: H."

My curse. My penance. Of all days, why this?

St. Grumble's Day almost always fell within the first half of the first week of Loshis. Her migraines almost always occurred sometime in the first week of every month. There was about a one in ten chance this would happen.

Ensconced in her blankets, Abe turned on her side, regretting every millimeter of motion. Skittering over the constant throbbing pain, new, bright pains migrated on her skull like a million microscopic hatchers. She tried to remind herself she had survived worse, but the hatchers begged to differ.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Abe would never ask the mona to take it away. This was a special pain. Cleansing. Cathartic. Tomorrow, she would be refreshed and at peace. Tomorrow, she will have paid in pain a portion of her life debt.

Her penance had nothing to do with the Circle Gods. No Everine would ever condone her beliefs. But, not one to trust authority or tradition, she did not need their approval. Her "religion" was an intensely personal, complex blending of mathematics and metaphor. She never spoke of it, for she could never hope to explain. It was hers and hers alone, as much an inseparable part of herself as the blood in her veins. Perhaps moreso.

She killed her mother. She did not murder her, nor was she, a mere babe, responsible. Nevertheless, she was the cause of her mother's death. She owed the world one life, a life she had no chance of saving.

The migraines were her punishment. They were her curse and her absolution. With hammering pain, they chiseled away the selfish corrosion accumulated over the month. With unfailing regularity, they recalibrated her moral compass.

Abe would never give it up. She would no longer be Abe if she did.