Ayleth need not cast her gaze to where she walked, her eyes fixed to the ground as once more a dead thing traversed the ground of the village. But this one was not of rotting flesh but of decaying faith. The young acolyte walked with swaying cadence of a wilting lily, almost easily felled by a mere gust of breeze. Her abode was a mere cropping of rock and mud, built into the earth itself, within a mound amidst the village houses.
Inside, rests a shrine to her goddess Nyella whose icon was cast in a womanly figure with arms outstretched offering any in an embrace of love. A solitary candlestick kept the darkness at bay in shifting boundaries dictated by the wind whilst a small circular opening on the rafters, roughly the size of a foot, centered atop of the closeting hut.
It was here that she made her bed and did her duties. When she first came to this village, nearly all had abandoned the task of caring and offering prayers to the gods. She took it upon herself after escaping the destruction of their caravan.
The young woman knelt tiredly on the dais before the likeness of the goddess. It was now sundown, and the opportune time for Moonrise Prayers. But she did not have the will nor the drive to do so.
The words of Reign had shaken her to the very core.
It was not the first time she had heard of it. Plenty of the villagers had expressed their frustration at prayers unanswered. But she did not truly care what they thought. For her, it was a return to normalcy. Their chiding remarks were rebuffed by the fear she experienced at the destruction and her then raving faith towards the Goddess.
Reign's words shattered through those manic delusions of hers. The words reverberated to her very bones. It's as if someone had doused her fires of zeal with the freezing waters of the north. It was disorienting. For moment she nearly stumbled and tripped as if staggering in her footsteps.
By the fading light of the sun, a shadow loomed behind her. A broad-shouldered silhouette of man casting everything save for an ethereal, green light that was almost dismissible.
"You may think me foolish but my belief is no simple, blind faith. My goddess, my focus of worship, it is one of love, beauty and hope. But even then, I only believed simply because I was told to, nothing more." Ayleth put her head in her palms. Having been lost in her own vehemence. Her hand wouldn't stop shaking. It felt cold as if the blood beneath had turned to ice in her veins.
She took a deep breath and continued her tale.
"I lived in the Grand City of Vrester, far beyond the River Castinse and through the Deorcfare of the Barewharf. Where the undead onslaught was naught but a passing rumor. Tales of fancy. Far were the dangers and the people of our city thought not of it," those days seemed far simpler, Ayleth thought it barely a year had passed and yet felt almost like a lifetime ago.
"When more and more stories did come forth from refugees of the East, there were those....'enterprising' amongst our ranks who saw these as an opportunity," She remembered how they were, foolish children thinking capable of changing the world would be a breeze. She sighed. "We told ourselves it would be in service of the Goddess. When in truth we were just servicing our own ego."
"Knights Errant joined our venture, as did a great number of bards. When we ventured out of the city, our company was a hundred strong. Onwards to face the Undead calamity that had befallen the easternfold of the continent. We felt like we could live forever."
Their company didn't last the month.
