Most sentient species’, regardless of affiliation, pay homage in some form or another to at least one of the Gods. The facts and details have faded over time, but there is no doubt that they banished the Daemons that threatened to destroy all life, and they rebuilt the world. Even those that do not pray for help and advice will give thanks and pay their respects.
The truth was that it was frighteningly easy for her to go for the kill. Holding back to only disable her opponents was much more difficult. Wolf didn’t need any “underhanded tricks” to destroy them.
At the entrance to the courtyard stood the pristine shrine to the Judge. The statue depicted the perfectly balanced scales that symbolised justice, and it exuded an aura of authority. It was unpleasant. Catryn couldn’t help but marvel that even a simple shrine could have such an overpowering pressure.
As they ran, the weariness quickly settled back over her bones. Despite her even gait, every step jolted her injuries until she struggled for breath. Ignoring the pain, she sent her consciousness forward to the seemingly lifeless man in Ric’s arms.
Like swallowing fire, it scorched her from the inside out and set her nerves alight. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that no human was born to wield such devastating power as that of a Caretaker.
His skin was almost translucent, and it flaked like dry parchment. Over his heart, the only hint of colour, a pulsing red rune had been carved. A rune Wren knew all too well.
Catryn froze in her tracks and arms enveloped her tightly, pinning her in place. That time, she did not struggle. She wanted to hate him, she wanted to vow to bring him to justice for his actions. But she couldn’t deny his words.
Trepidation in her steps, she moved slowly towards the dancing light, not at all surprised as it pulled further away each time she drew near. A voice near her ear startled her as the priest murmured “You can see the wisps?”
A cold blue flickering light caught her attention. It flittered and danced at the edge of her vision, surrounded by strange, haunting whispers. Echoes of the life it had once led. Ahren felt the change in her and sighed with a small mocking smile.
The talisman of the Gatekeeper hanging at Wolf’s wrist was her first and only warning of the attack before a thick rusted blade swung out of the shadows. She pulled back just in time, feeling the rush of cold air as the clumsy hunk of metal that passed for a greatsword rushed by her face.
A Journey in Self Expression 