Carlisle is grateful for the assistance with his eye, and gives Glacius as brave a smile a star he can muster in the dark. It isn't much of one, admittedly.

"I cannot simply ignore what calling in this life I have," he notes, flexing his fingers, "but it does not help in the slightest when the false gods aggravate my energies. I have enough trouble as it is keeping such potent powers under lock and key without them making matters worse."

He stifles a cough, watching how the Mote flickers and dims, feeling guilty for every instant it is not at its brightest.