Reign was surrounded by darkness, a hollowness of everything as his spirit drifted into the endless expanse of this void. He could not move an inch of muscle as he was a helpless audience in the darkness of his own mind. It was a horrid experience, to be made prisoner by this stifling darkness. But its grip on him was not absolute and eternal, as he drifted, he grasped instances of momentary freedom, able to move a finger here and a foot there. He did not give out hope, prying for any weakness in this dark prison whenever he could take it. He only had to wait, vigilant as its solidity flickered and faded as time went on.
A deep, quaking rumble began and with it his prison began to collapse. He rallied whatever strength he could muster and as the darkness that held him fell, he reached out his hands outside his prison, blinking and opening his eyes, his real ones, once more to the waking world of the living.
Reign rose from where he lay, surveying the all that was around him. He had half expected things to be in shambles, the last thing he recalled before being imprisoned by the darkness was the Whispers crept from the darkest depths of Reign.
It was the same shrine of the Goddess Nyella, the abode of the acolyte Ayleth. Fire crackled somewhere. And a familiar coldness of his undeath was trimmed to the edges on what he can only recall as warmth. It reminded him of the remains of an ember. The moon's clear light fell from the ceiling's opening and mantled the shrine of the Goddess in ethereal light. Beneath the statue of the goddess knelt the form of the Acolyte.
She had swaddled herself in thick wrappings made of animal fur, bulking much of her feminine grace in a bulbous wrap to abate the winterlaced wind that found its way within the shrine.
"Ah, you're' awake," she said without turning her head. "But I must ask, where have you been? Being dead and all, I doubt you have need for sleep," she inquired calmly the tone of her voice in conflict as to when she saw her last, quaking and afraid as the Whispers overrode Reign's own body.
"What happened!? Are you well, acolyte?" Reign ignored the question, eyes cast out for any harm he may have caused.
To this frantic questioning, the acolyte merely sighed. "To put your mind at ease, no one died" she simply said. Reign sensed more in that and waited for a continuation. He felt like he did something. A cold blade driven in his conscience but could not find the handle to.
"But...?" he reached out.
A moment of silence passed. Ayleth still knelt piously before the Goddess, not facing Reign, as if she was musing something before speaking.
And finally, she spoke.
"What's important is no one perished. No, your other half did not rampage through the village--" She stopped herself, garnering breath into her lungs before continuing, as if she had trouble wording the next words, "I......
managed
to restrain him, within the shrine and away from the villagers," she gazed towards the statue of the Goddess. Reign felt like she was not telling him something.
The man sifted through his mind, trying to peer into the memories that had transpired of The Whispers but found only nothing. The cruel thing still nestled inside of him, tired and spent but still very present. What power did the acolyte call upon to restrain such a beast?
"Let's continue this somewhere else, this room is...stifling," she said, casting a look around, an expression Reign could not discern as she rose from her kneeling, the cumbersome coat she wore appeared heavy but showed no sign of difficulty as she strode out of the low door of the shrine. As Reign followed her lead, ducking out of the mound of the shrine, the husked remains of the once thriving village greeted his gaze.
Only a handful of houses were truly occupied and of these few, fewer still retained their lights this late into the night as most have gone asleep. Lookouts amongst them stood or kept watch close to the windows. Blanche herself was awake, club and bow at her side, along with a handful other women-watchers for the night as they sat on the porch of one house.
"Walk with me, there is something I need to do," Ayleth simply said as she led the way. Reign walked some step behind her, feeling the gaze of those still awake turn to him. He saw them grip ever so slightly closer to their holstered clubs of wood. He didn't blame them.
Blanche was fletching arrows as Ayleth came to her. Words were exchanged and Blanche gave her nod at something, although it required a momentary thought from her and a look towards Reign. Their conversation done, Ayleth broke away from the group of women and took towards a path that led off to the sides of the houses, gesturing to Reign that he should follow. Their eyes trailed on him as he rounded the corner and followed suit. The path bended out of the houses and into a small bend around two modest hills.
One of the caveats of being dead, he couldn't feel the wind even dressed as he was in a tattered tunic.
"Where are we going?" He asked as he followed her along the path.
