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.
On the third week of their travels, they had reached the frontlines of the Blight. From the bright domains of the east, they saw nothing but mist and a drudging silence. Everything just seemed grayer and dead. Still, they were unfazed by it.
As soon as darkness fell, the entire company was assailed from all sides.
An endless horde of the dead had suddenly surrounded their camp. How did they not hear the dead was a mystery to this day to Ayleth. And these were not just simple, lumbering corpses. From among the attackers, Ayleth saw horrors with twisting claws and gnashing razor teeth that lined the mouths. Creatures of the Dark that could disappear in a puff of smoke, extinguishing the mightiest of armor into crushed steel in a single heartbeat.
Towering giants that carried with them putrid diseases, standing tall as an oak tree.
Comrades were torn asunder in a flash. Still, it was not a total massacre, as those with some level-headedness amongst them rallied into pockets of concentrated resistance.
So, she did what she had been taught since her birth. She prayed and prayed. Even as she ran, she prayed. By luck or by fate, she had slinked off away from the worst of the fighting, crawling to the nearest cover she could find which had been a small abandoned hare-warren. The following days were a rhythmic blur of running, hiding and fervent praying. It was only by complete happenstance that she had found the village of women. For weeks on end since coming to this poor village, she had only but prayed.
She sighed deeply, tiredly. "Thing was, I was so afraid of dying. My faith shaken by fear, not that was it any strength either way before that. And so, when in the precipice of a great hammering of tribulation, it did not stand the test."
