Natus ad Hoc

[MapleSunflower 1889]

Spoiler

The following information is mostly not public unless you were present at the Haense event, have roleplayed with others, or myself.

 

 

 

“The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance.

He shall not be afraid of evil tidings, his heart is ready to hope in the Lord.”

(Proverbs 3:12)

 

Sleep was meant for resting.

It was supposed to be peaceful.

 

 

If dreams are for dreamers…

 

What are nightmares for?

✧⥼─────────༻❁༺─────────⥽✧

The outline of their decrepit frames eerily loomed over the girl; Bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, watching and waiting. Sharp teeth clicked, their points chitter against enamel in irritating chatter. Mutilated limbs snaked closer, tendrils coated in crimson left stains where they touched. Wrangling and writhing like the slimy eels of the deep sea, the dismembered body parts crept nearer to their terrified victim. 

 

At first, it was a simple brush. Kathryn jumped back in hopes that she may distance herself from the horrid creatures. Displeased, they dared draw nearer in demand for the woman’s flesh and soul. A tendril twisted around her ankle and gripped tight, Kathryn frightenedly kicked it back with her other foot. “No! Go away! I will not succumb to you!,” she exclaimed.

 

No matter how hard the woman fought, these Eldritch Horrors outnumbered her and soon they ensnared her limbs. Her skin crawled like a thousand desert ants biting into flesh, burning and itching with insatiable annoyance. An invisible weight sat upon her sternum as if crushed by a landslide. Struggling to take a deep breath, Kathryn’s breath turned shallow and sweat beaded upon her brow. An urgency pounded within her chest cavity.

 

Kathryn was suffocating. 

 

“Let go!” Rasped the brunette who kicked fruitlessly at the creatures that held her captive. In her retaliation, they only grew stronger; The shadows began to quickly consume Kathryn. Their grasp barbed into her flesh and the smell of iron stung her nostrils with its putrid stench. A strained gasp shocked the Virosi, prompting her to proclaim;

“Almighty GOD, Hear my cry! Save me from the trials that overwhelm me and the dangers that seek to consume my spirit!” 

 

With every word that passed, an inch of the Virosi grew deeper into the chittering nothingness that swallowed her. Yet, with a deep, desperate breath - again - she pleaded, 

 

“Grant me the strength to endure, as with You beside me, I shall not fear!”

 

A veil of darkness shrouded Kathryn and made her blind. Their chattering taunts and chorus of laughter rang in her ears like screams into the abyss. A final breath was drawn as the chill of nothingness became all Kathryn would know. 

 

✧⥼──༻❁༺──⥽✧

 

A second felt like forever. It was only a single moment, but waiting was an eternity. Is this what death is like? Kathryn thought with lungs that burned; Any longer she must hold her breath or they would burst. 

 

And yet, any longer did not come. Cracks formed in her cocoon and a white light shone radiantly through, granting her a breath of fresh air. Pure as freshly-fallen snow, the relief and warmth grew in abundance. Such bright brilliance blinded her and greatly overwhelmed the evils that once plagued her. In a flash of light, the darkness was consumed whole.

 

✧⥼──༻❁༺──⥽✧

 

Warmth tingled her skin with the first rays of sunrise, a crisp gentle breeze blew upon her like a whisper of a secret. Fatigued cornflower eyes fluttered open to see sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above, casting delicate patterns on the forest floor. Fallen leaves, moss, and twigs formed a soft, natural bed beneath her limp frame. Earthy tones graced the air, the fragrance of the soil soothing to her nose. 

 

Slowly sitting up, Kathryn lifted her body from the soil and realized she was adorned in ivory cloth - yet they were unstained by the mud she once laid in. Upon her head sat a wreath of brilliant cornflowers, fragrant in their sweet floral scent and lush with the peak of life. Not a twig entangled her long hair cascading down her backside. Standing upright, grass tickled the bare soles of her feet, each step made leaving an imprint upon the land. A gentle breeze wisped at her chocolate locks, prompting the Virosi woman to brush a strand aside. With her sight cleared, her environment could be better examined. 

 

To her right, a babbling river winds its way through the trees, clear waters dancing over smooth stones. The sound upon her ears is soothing. A gentle, continuous melody plucked as the current ripples and swirls created tiny eddies and splashes. Sunlight glints off the surface, making the water shimmer like liquid glass. Ferns rustle softly in the breeze, their feathery tips bending toward the water, casting delicate shadows on the surface. Left of her was the outline of an oak forest. Birds tweet, their songs harmonious and sweet to the ear. Fungi grew upon stumps, decomposing the dead to start life anew. Kathryn found herself in the middle of these two worlds seemingly joined as one.

 

Even with her astute observations, something was missing. The forest felt alive with quiet energy; Something more than the animals of God’s creation. Someone was watching. The feeling of eyes burned through the back of her head and Kathryn’s cheek turned in obedience to human instinct. 

 

The face she met was one she knew well. Not a day had been spent without gazing upon him. Lines creased upon his visage, telling tales of decades of leadership, reflection, and spiritual guidance gained only through experience and age. His skin is weathered, with a slightly pale complexion, contrasting with his piercing, almost otherworldly cornflower blue eyes that seem to hold centuries of knowledge. Silvery hair was neatly groomed while the top of his head was adorned with a papal cap matching the pure white vestments he wore. His figure was bathed in a soft, ethereal light that seemed to emanate from within him. No adornments except for a modest golden halo that hovered above his head, casting a gentle glow around him Surrounded by an air of quiet power, the man who has seen much and endured more stood serene before the young Virosi. 

 

Kathryn’s lips parted with disbelief and slowly her knee would bend before the Saint. No matter what answer she could muster with logic, none could doubt her eyes. She believed. Tracing the Lorraine over her frame, the brunette clasped her hands together. She bowed with her forehead nearly touching the ground, completely surrendering to this force greater than herself.

 

St. James II raised one hand slowly, palm open: a gesture of peace and assurance and the symbol of their family crest. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and soothing, like a soft breeze that quiets a storm. "Do not fear," he said, his words resonating with a sense of eternal truth. "You are seen, you are known, and you are loved."

 

As the Virosi bowed there, a tear slid down her cheek. It was not born of sadness, but of the overwhelming comfort that washed over her in the presence of such divine mercy. Her heart swelled with hope that surged through her very bloodstream. 

 

"Rise, my dear child,” St. James II commanded tenderly to his grandniece, his gentle smile offering her a sense of calm.  “For GOD has heard your cries.” Obediently, Kathryn lifted herself to stand before her ancestor, her gaze raised to humbly view his divine image. His soft gaze kept steady upon hers, “Your mind is filled with questions.” He said with a pause.  “Speak, child. We are listening.” 

 

The soft breeze stirred her hair, but she remained still, as if rooted to the spot by the weight of her thoughts. Kathryn’s hands broke from their union and rest gently at her sides, fingertips brushing the muslin of her dress. Her brow furrowed slightly in deep concentration, as though she were searching for clarity in the quiet spaces between her questions. In that stillness, her thoughts gathered and were pieced together like fragments of a puzzle. Finally finding the words to her troubles, her chin lifted to answer the Saint before her. “As I learn more about the power of GOD, I too experience the ugliness of Iblees.” Licking her lip, Kathryn drew a breath to steady herself. “You, who has seen and lived through the destruction by human sin and the horrors of Iblees alike; We place our trust in GOD to not fear… and yet, there are things that still fill us with terror. What was it that brought you the most fear?”

 

His eyes, usually so calm, held a distant, reflective gaze in searching for answers. Every now and then, his fingers tightened slightly then relaxed, a subtle sign of the inner wrestling taking place within his heart. An emerald ring sat upon one of his fingers, sparkled in the sunlight. Godric Virosi took a slow, measured breath, the rise and fall of his chest steadying him before his lips parted to answer.

 

“The Archaengul Michael told me that Aenguls, too, can stray from the path of righteousness and fall from grace. That we must remember that even the angels, those celestial beings of light, are not beyond the reach of temptation.” St. James II’s sad look to his niece spoke volumes, his eyes filled with unspoken concerns and a deep sorrow that weighed heavily on his heart. “I did not see it in my time, but you, my dear, did. It is the curse of a Virosi; To live to see such events.” Pausing, his brows furrowed in his sympathetic frown. “You have already lived my Eldritch Horror.”

 

The woman nodded, the petals of cornflowers upon her head flutter with the motion. She recalled the day the sun had disappeared; She was only 5 summers then. How those in Rhen wondered what had happened, their screams and cries as they fell to their knees in prayer. How the crops suffered and the cattle died. How the poor and needy starved as the fields produced less than a quarter of their usual harvest. “Noctus Aeternae,” Her father had called it. The Eternal Night. 

 

Kathryn bit her lip, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on her heart as she drew a steadying breath. Her gaze rose slowly to meet the Saint before her,  her eyes searching his face for answers. “I know not what I shall witness in my lifetime, Uncle, but if it is as you say it shall be… How do you live with it?” 

 

As they stood by the rolling river, St James II’s  expression was thoughtful yet tender. “My dear child,” he began, the song of birds filling the silence, “following GOD is much like walking through this forest. There are clear paths, and at times, there are obstacles that may obscure our way. There are steep uphills you must trek and dropping declines you must heed.” He gestured to a winding trail that had appeared behind his niece. Kathryn’s gaze followed his hand, her geometry turning in domino-effect to fully face the path ahead. “We must have faith in the journey, trusting that even when the way seems uncertain, each step we take is guided by His love.” 

 

Godric Virosi took a few steps closer to his niece and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are blessed with wisdom and intellect, Kathryn Atalia. With your actions and words, you have shown your faith in GOD. Yet, do not forget your mortality. Do not fear the known. Remember that in knowledge, there is power.” His sincere cornflower blue gaze kept firm upon the younger Virosi’s matching set. Walking alongside her, the pair began to traverse the dirt road together.  

 

The woman strode slowly down the winding path, the fabric of her ivory attire soft and lightweight, whispering with each step she took. The dress caught the sunlight, creating a gentle glow that highlighted her figure and the determined spirit within her. Kathryn’s eyes shut peacefully and a breath left her lungs. “Go in servitude, dear niece. Protect His flock.” Her Uncle spoke softly, his hand lifting from her shoulder. With every stride, she felt a sense of purpose growing within her, the warmth of the light drawing her closer, urging her to embrace whatever awaited her beyond the horizon. Kathryn knew this; She was born for this.

 

As she moved forward, the sunlight filtering through the branches grew increasingly bright, bathing the path in a warm, golden glow. The brilliance intensified, wrapping around her like a radiant cocoon, and she felt the enchanting dreamscape dissolve, the vivid colors and soothing sounds fading into a blinding white light. In a voice just like the brush of a breeze, St. James II’s voice whispered into her ear, “The question is: How will you transform this knowledge into power in the physical world?”

 

✧⥼──༻❁༺──⥽✧

 

The woman jolted awake, her breath hitched in her throat as the vivid images of her dream flickered away like embers in the wind. As she sat up in bed, the soft light of dawn poured through her window, casting a gentle glow that filled the room with warmth. The sun, just peeking over the horizon, painted the sky in shades of pink and gold. Kathryn’s tired eyes scanned her whereabouts: the mauve walls and soft scarlet canopy bed was certainly hers. Outside, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the pier could be heard and the salty scent of the sea mingled with the crisp air. 

 

The lantern’s candle beside her bed had long since dwindled out. It was no longer needed anyway as the soft morning sunlight grew stronger by the minute. With each passing moment, her racing heart slowed to a calm, steady beat. Her attention turned to the charcoal drawing that hung across from her bed. The scene of the construction of the Holiest City - the building of the Tabernacle - drawn by St. James II. She had inherited from her aunt the day prior at her Flight Ceremony where we swore to the oath of her name and of GOD. Upon the table below it, laid the crown her sister, Yelena, had fashioned for her as per tradition. Her hand lifted, gently touching her head where the crown had been placed in her dream. Kathryn’s brows furrowed and slowly she faced the sunrise.

 

Inspired by the dream, the brunette rose from her bed, quickly wrapping the shawl around her frame as she took a seat at the oak desk by the window. Dipping her swan-feather quill into the pot of ink and flipping open a notebook to a fresh page, Kathryn Virosi, determined to carry the light and insight of her dream, began to write the words ringing in her eardrum.

 

How will you transform this knowledge into power in the physical world?

 

✧⥼─────────༻❁༺─────────⥽✧

A year had passed since Kathryn's first dream, and she swiftly answered the call, remaining steadfast in her vows to her family and to God. Having journeyed to Aevos over a decade ago, she had seen despair touch the lives of both the virtuous and the wayward. Her life became one of devoted service, dedicated to God and His people.

Whether founding and nurturing the success of the charity alongside John and Cardinal Ivan, directing and performing in the liturgical play St. Tara of Paradisus, maintaining the meticulous records of the Archdiocese of Lotharia, or offering guidance to those who lacked faith, the young Virosi humbly and earnestly fulfilled each duty. She faced every task with a reverent spirit, approaching each with humility and significance.

Her understanding of servitude deepened one day when she confronted a young thief at the Balian Academy. When the boy drew his weapon against her and Editha de Falstaff, Kathryn, realizing no one else would stand for them, drew her own—an act unprecedented. Her resolute stance caused the boy to sheath his weapon and retreated, startled by the sight of the woman who had treated him kindly. Kathryn pursued him step by step until he fled the city like a frightened calf.

That night, she knelt in prayer, grateful that no blood had been shed. Yet, the encounter revealed a truth she could not ignore—she had no training with a weapon.  She would be unable to protect those in need. It was then that she made a surprising decision, joining the Regiment of Saint Lothar, much to the astonishment of those who knew her as a gentle lady.

Every other night, Kathryn toiled in the fields, planting and harvesting under the tropical sun. Sweat glistened on her skin, and her lips grew dry, but she pressed on, her resolve unwavering. Often, friends and acquaintances spot her laboring and, taking a hoe, would join in her efforts.

Her travels were not taken lightly; she carried alms to Canonist nations far and wide, using these journeys to connect with and understand the flock of God. Yet, she knew that forming friendships required nurturing them, and on one particular night, she set out to do just that.

✧⥼──༻❁༺──⥽✧

As she walked down a dirt road, the forest of spruce loomed ahead and her blue eyes scanned the treeline with cautious focus. Suddenly, the thunder of hooves shattered the quiet as a bandit charged past, a dark cloak billowing behind him. In his grasp was a small child, their eyes wide with fear. In a flash, the scene vanished, and moments later, the knight Ser Joakim sped past her, in hot pursuit. Kathryn’s heart raced as she bolted toward the city of New Valdev, urgency and determination propelling her forward. She had seen the bandit before and knew the Ludovar boy that had been captured.

Kathryn had not gotten used to the attire required of a soldier yet, needing to use more energy to run in the gambeson. Upon reaching the city, winded, the Virosi doubled over as she tried to catch her breath. The Haenseni conversed between themselves, gathered as they tried to plan how to rescue their lost child. The Lady Palatine, Milena, carried her young niece toward the bell that hung upon a wall. Moments later, the knight Joakim returned, empty-handed and with a frown of concern on his features.

Dark, ominous clouds gathered above the capital and it was then that a sinister aura began to settle over the capital of Haense. This shift was undeniable in its presence. A chill rattled their bones and the air felt tainted with each breath they drew. Whispers of unease spread through those gathered in the square as all rose to look upon the darkening sky. Some looked on in fear, others in confusion, yet there is one thing they could all agree upon: Their very core screamed with warnings of a threat unseen. Something was amiss, and it began to consume the once vibrant city. 

The clouds swallowed the sun and cast an unnatural twilight over the city. There loomed a threat of an impending storm, yet it was eerily silent. The birds had stopped their chirping and animals hid into any spot they could find. It felt as if the heavens were closing in, cloaking the city in a shroud of shadows and unease. It was as though something ancient and malevolent was awakening, ready to unleash its wrath upon the capital. 

 

Kathryn hadn’t been in the city longer than a minute. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with a mix of puzzlement and horror as the sun vanished, leaving the world bathed in darkness. Rising to a stand, her wise eyes began to scan the sky above. “This must be what happened in Solgaard.” She wondered aloud of the village she had visited recently that, too, lingered in an eternal darkness. It was like when she was a child; the day Janus had fallen. 

 

It seemed there was no more time to gawk and wonder. Ser Joakim turned to the people, ushering them toward the Basilica a few meters away. “Everyone shelter in the Basilica!” The cries of the people rang similar messages.  “Go, go!” Kathryn exclaimed, holding the door of the Basilica for others as they rushed in. However, she did not follow. Milena and her niece lingered outside where the Princess hoisted the child above her head to ring the bell. Something was coming: Kathryn dashed across the square as the chimes of the bell clangs. 

 

DING. DONG. DING.

 

Milena, cradling the girl in her arms, rushed toward the Basilica. Kathryn ushered them ahead, being the last out in the open. The soldiers waiting under the awning sealed shut the doors, the sound echoing through the vast building as the storm began outside. 

 

“Stay away from windows and huddle near the walls!” A soldier commanded, and the people obediently followed. Silently, the Virosi knelt and prayed. As Kathryn closed her eyes, she felt the weight of the world around her. At first, each breath was a prayer, a silent conversation with the divine as she listened intently. 

 

Seeping into their thoughts like a creeping shadow, a malevolent voice slithers as it spoke, sending chills through their spines. The air grows frigid, thickening with the weight of their fear, as the sinister presence looms, unseen but oppressive, pressing in from every direction.

 

 “You cower in the shadow of your god, thinking these walls will protect you? Fools. Do you not see? Your prayers fall on deaf ears. The divine does not dwell here… nor will it save you. Not from me. No holy light will pierce the darkness that is coming. So hide, Haenseni. Tremble. For soon, even your god will forsake you.”

 

The people within the Basilica, trembling, began to kneel in prayer. A woman beside the Virosi glanced at her before lowering herself to pray as well. Madness creeped slowly but surely upon them, gripping the people of Haense. Their vision distorted and twisted as friends, neighbors, and loved ones no longer appeared as familiar faces but as grotesque, nightmarish abominations. Their eyes stretched and multiplied across their features, limbs contorted at impossible angles, and mouths yawned open far too wide, filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. What were once recognizable figures now writhed and slithered like eldritch horrors, each more monstrous than the last; they could no longer trust their eyes or the faces of those they once cherished. Terror coursed through the people as the fabric of reality unraveled, trapping them in a living nightmare.

 

Screams of horror filled the air as panic spread like wildfire through the crowd. People clutched their heads as they and those around them turned into beings of monstrosity. The Basilica echoed with the sounds of shrieks and desperate cries as chaos and fear consumed every soul present. 

 

 “The candle! Light vyr candles!” The Lady Palatine cried, though her whereabouts were unknown. She looked like all the others; Creatures with too many eyes and gaping, tooth-filled mouths. Kathryn remained steadfast in her prayer, though as the creeping madness seeped into the darkness behind her closed eyes, she felt an overwhelming dread. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to look upon those around her, only to be met with a horrifying sight. Her eyes widened, darting from one twisted abomination to another. She had seen these before, but they were nothing like this physical horror.

 

The familiar voice of Milena cried out once more;  “Exalted Sigismund, as we stand before vyr tomb - protect us and lead us from this darkness!” Kathryn’s horrified eyes shifted to the crypt to her left. The stone slab bore the name of the departed Exalted, etched deeply into its surface. 

 

The line between reality and nightmare dissolved as their vision warped, narrowing into a shadowy tunnel. Faint, tormented voices whispered in unknown foreign tongues— yet somehow, they still understood. Promises of salvation, offers of dark bargains, and temptation to surrender to an unknown power buzzed in their ears like a restless bee. Sinister laughter echoed in their minds —a mocking sound that seemed to rise from within, feeding on their growing despair. The evil delight grew louder, clawing at their sanity, drowning out reason, and dragging them further into a twisted abyss of fear. With each passing moment, the voices and the darkness tightened their hold, pulling them into a suffocating void where only the whispers of unseen entities and the grip of an encroaching darkness remained, eager to consume them whole.

 

Kathryn had thought herself prepared, believed the horrors in her sleep were a prelude, a warning. The writhing shapes that had haunted her dreams twisted and coiled in the darkness before her, their grotesque forms defying all logic, their whispers curling in her mind like probing worms. It was unnatural, but intangible. Yet this... this was beyond the limits of anything she'd ever imagined. The terror that crawled beneath her skin was not the fear of a dream; it was the cold, suffocating grip of reality itself, and it was far worse than she could have ever known.

 

“Mighty Archaengul Michael, Protector of the faithful,” Kathryn began, her eyes tightly shut as she sought to block out the chaos surrounding her. Her hands clasped together, fingers interlocked with a grip that trembled slightly, she took a deep breath, grounding herself in the silence of her own thoughts. As she spoke, her face softened with a mixture of determination and devotion, the lines of tension slowly melting away as she anchored herself in faith.“Shield us with your radiant sword, your wings of power spread wide. Guard us from the darkness, from evil’s grasp, and all that seeks to harm!” 

 

Amongst the screams, a familiar voice overcame them: “EXALTED SIGISMUND—DEFEND VYR BLOOD!” A thud followed the call of Milena, forcing Kathryn’s head to whip around. The body of one of the horrors lay limb upon the foot of the tomb, though only the outline was visible. Yet in the shadows, the creatures began to fight amongst themselves. Crimson spilled from their guts and hands, steel clanging in unity with shrieks of agony and terror. Beside her, those huddled in the corner drew their blades on each other. 

 

“As St. James II called upon you to rid the world of evil, so too do we call upon you now.” Kathryn prayed, her voice soft but resolute, each word carrying a quiet strength. Her breath grew unsteady, quickening as she fought to keep her mind focused. “They call upon us to sin, as the sin of Iblees plagues the world. Cast down the shadows that creep into our hearts, and banish the wickedness that stirs in the unseen.”  

 

The Virosi hesitated, her breath catching as she watched the horrors to her left, their twisted forms tearing into one another. The ground was slick with the gore of those who had transformed from friend to foe, their once-familiar faces now lost in monstrous rage. She felt a shiver run through her as she whispered, “Is this the terror you revealed to James? That even the Aenguls may fall? Who, then, will rid this world of the darkness that grips your people?” Kathryn Virosi asked, her lips parting while watching the fighting. Slowly, she inched back, eyes wary as she put distance between herself and the chaos. With a final breath,  She bowed with her forehead nearly touching the ground. Her voice was a mere whisper, yet, it was an earnest prayer for light in the midst of darkness. “Guide us.”

 

United in prayer, the people in the Basilica began to feel a gentle warmth push against the chill that had settled deep in their bones. The oppressive darkness that had clung to their minds and tightened around their hearts began to fade, its grasp loosening until it lost any foothold. The golden light seemed to wrap them in a soft, protective embrace and the chaos within their minds slowly began to fade. It was as if some unseen force whispered of hope and light.

 

The ground beneath Haense shuddered violently, the capital quaking as though the very earth had risen in rebellion. Buildings groaned under the strain, and the tremors sent waves of panic through the crowd. Fear surged in their hearts, threatening to overwhelm them—until, piercing through the chaos, a new voice resounded. within their minds. Unlike the dark, sinister whisper they had heard before, this voice was resolute, powerful, and unwavering, carrying with it a sense of authority that stilled the panic in their chests. It was like a thunderclap in their souls, and a single word rang out, echoing with a force that seemed to shake the air itself:

 

“Begone.” 

 

Kathryn had remained in her reverent kneel,  “GOD bless us this day, and lead us in the light of your ways.”  she whispered, her tone soft and steady. Lost in the rhythm of her devotion, she shut out the sounds around her, focusing entirely on the words she spoke. It reverberated with a force that seemed to echo in her very soul, shaking her from the trance-like state. Her body jolted as if struck, and she sat upright, her eyes flying open, wide and alert. The weight of the voice lingered, and she felt her heart quicken, a shiver running down her spine.

 

✧⥼──༻❁༺──⥽✧

 

In an instant, a radiant golden aura enveloped the people, cascading through the holy architecture like the first rays of dawn. It spread swiftly, washing over every corner and filling the space with a warm, reassuring glow. The sinister presence that had loomed over them recoiled as the light pierced through, shattering its hold with a power unseen. The oppressive spell that had plagued the minds of the citizens dissolved, unraveling like mist under the sun’s touch. The brilliance of sunlight cut through the darkness like a sword and twisted shapes began to unravel, shadows peeling away to reveal the humanity hidden beneath. 

 

Limbs that had bent at impossible angles straightened, eyes that had multiplied faded back into familiar, gentle features, and mouths filled with jagged teeth softened into expressions of relief. One by one, the abominations transformed back into the men, women, and children they once were, their faces marked with a mix of confusion and gratitude. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they felt truly safe. The Basilica, once heavy with fear, now thrummed with a sacred calm, a sanctuary blessed by divine protection.

 

The sun then peered through the windows in their usual shine. Whatever had been their salvation parted as quickly as it came and soon. 

 

It was eerily still. Silence echoed in the grand halls. All stood in astonishment, their eyes cast toward those of the Basilica. 

 

Loved ones found one another, pulling each other into desperate embraces. Friends exchanged shaky smiles, gripping one another’s shoulders as if to confirm they were real and unharmed. Most stood in silent astonishment, their eyes cast toward those of the Basilica. This harrowing nothingness lingered for only a moment.

 

In the aftermath, the scene became a different kind of chaos than before. A cacophony of cries and shouts echoing through the sacred space. Blood smeared the floor as people staggered, clutching at wounds inflicted in their madness. Adults and children alike wept uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the brutality they had both witnessed. People rushed to aid the injured, lifting those who had fallen, their hands trembling but determined. For every injured person, four people were there to help. Priests and citizens alike called out for calm, their voices strained as they tried to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood, a harsh reminder of the violence that had just taken place.

 

By the tomb of the Exalted Sigismund, Milena’s exhausted form was pulled by Joakim. It seemed that the voice that rang down from the heavens had awoken her. The knight held the young Oliviya in his arms, as the Lady Palatine’s stunned voice muttered whilst staring at the crypt, “It… was him….” She breathed, “We called unto Exalted Sigismund - and in the presence of his bones, we have been saved”

 

As the Balianese soldier studied those around her, a stunned silence enveloped her. The remnants of despair and bafflement lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive, but she pushed forward, determined to assist. 

 

Her heart raced as she surveyed the scene, her chainmail under the cloth gambeson clinking softly with each step. Kathryn moved with purpose, her keen eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of injury. Father Alaric and others were already at work, calling out for those in still need of help, their voices rising above the murmurs of the stunned onlookers and civilians helping others.

 

Wandering from group to group, the Virosi’s cornflower blue eyes stared at the people she passed. Friends had suffered greatly from their inflicted wounds, people yet to be known lying in their own blood. Having combed through every gathering, the woman fell upon one closest to the altar: The Ser and the child.

 

“Is everyone alright here?” Kathryn inquired softly. Their gazes turned to the woman and the Haenseni man held out the child’s hand that bled from a cut. “See to her hand.” He stated, returning to his conversation with another youth. “It is alright, little one. What is your name?” Kathryn inquired upon gently taking her hand. The girl squirmed and writhed, unresponsive to the question. Joakim’s brow arched at this. “I shall see that another will treat her.” He said before parting with the children.

 

Most had taken their leave from the church, spare for those who lingered in conversation in the back. As she approached the altar, her breath caught in her throat, and the flickering candlelight cast gentle shadows on her presence. Without hesitation, she breathlessly fell to her knees and signed the Lorraine Cross over herself. Her head, adorned with resilient purple aster pure white lilac, lowered and closed her eyes gently. 

 

“Oh Merciful GOD,” Kathryn began, her voice trembling as she swallowed hard, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. “I do not know if it was my call alone or the call of others in our flock who prayed alongside me… But with a heart full of gratitude, I come before You.” She felt the weight of her words, each one a testament to her faith. “Thank You for hearing our cry, for answering when we called out in need. In my distress, You were my comfort; In my fear, You were my strength. I thank You for Your kindness.”

She paused, lifting her gaze to the stained-glass window above the altar, where rays of colored light streamed through, casting vibrant patterns across the stone floor. A rainbow illuminated her features, the beauty of the light filled her with a sense of peace, reminding her of the divine presence that had surrounded her. “May my life be a living testimony to Your goodness, and may I always remember to trust in You, no matter the trials that may come. Amen.”

With a sense of resolve, she traced the outline of the Lorraine over her frame and slowly rose from her kneel. Ascending the steps, Kathryn Virosi pressed her lips gently to the altar in a moment of reverence, feeling the cool stone beneath her touch. Turning with renewed purpose, Kathryn would continue in the search for anyone still in need. 

 

✧⥼─────────༻❁༺─────────⥽✧

The woman left that day a different person, for she began, unintentionally, to follow in the footsteps of her ancestors. Cecil Virosi was present at the bodily ascent of Exalted Godfrey into the Seven Skies. St. James II witnessed several visions of the Archangel Michael, personally invoking an apparition of Archangel Michael who interceded on the side of the Descendants. 

 

And now, it was her turn. 

 

Kathryn was uncertain who had descended from the Seven Skies—whether it was the Exalted Sigismund, the Archaengul Michael, or another divine presence - she was filled with fervent resilience. The messages woven into her dreams felt like more than mere coincidence; they were a calling. The same familiar words rang in her ears at times, like the bell after the twelfth toll.

 

How would she transform

 this knowledge into power?

Determined to make sense of her experiences, the brunette began to write and document everything she had endured, capturing the essence of her journey on parchment. She spoke to others, piecing together the fragments of her story, sharing the revelations her dreams had bestowed upon her. Through this process of reflection and connection, Kathryn discovered a profound truth: she was not merely a vessel of her own narrative but a part of something much larger. She was a thread amongst the tapestry of faith and vessel for the Will of God.

Kathryn knew this.

She was born for this.

Spoiler

First and foremost, I want to thank a few people:

 @VIROS. Your willingness to allow me to interact with your character through the dream form. Getting to understand James II better was a lot of fun and has inspired me for some things with Kathryn. Thank you for combing through this insane post, checking my grammar, and answering all my looming questions at god-knows-what-time. I want to express my sincere appreciation and gratitude for everything have done to help me.

 

Special Shoutout to @Petsch2k for hosting the event in Haense and making everything run smoothly. Your hard work did not go unnoticed. I am grateful for the chance to partake in this adventure with you and the rest of the community.

Lastly, I want to thank @Aesopian for allowing me to be part of your own little event. Your creative open-ended approach brought a lot of surprises across my path. I appreciate your willingness to share your vision as well as allowing me to be transformative with your prompts. It's privilege to collaborate with you, and I am excited to see what may come next. 

Thank you to my proofreaders. I couldn't do it without y'alls.
@Andustar @Wavey @VIROS