Chapter 3: The strayed worshiper

"That's it. Ring the bell!" Kerry the dwarf cleric helped a miner with multiple bandages wrapped on his appendages onto the elevator cabin and called out to the survivors.

Roselie and Kerry had performed first aid and healing to six miners and two surviving guards. The rest of the miners had unfortunately passed away due to serious complications. The dwarf nodded at the two cleric girls, pulled a frayed rope to ring a bell on the surface to signal for the elevator to be lifted up. "You girls please be careful. There are still a lot of them inside. Go and help your friends and please return to the surface in one piece."

Before Roselie could say anything, a loud explosion shook the whole mine - stone dust was carried by a hot blast of air out from one of the mine shafts into the elevator room where they were currently, cracks appeared on the wall, some wooden scaffolds broke down and caused a chain collapse in one of the room. Roselie held onto Kerry, who slipped when the ground shook violently and looked to the survivors - she was content that they were safe and the elevator was being pulled up. 

Now, they must delve into the mine shaft to help Tob and the paladins out.

Both of the cleric girls prepared their equipment before advancing into the dark mine where the paladin headed to earlier. Roselie took out her 5 bottles of holy water and poured one onto Kerry's flail before handing her two, then she readied her firebombs and continued with the dwarf cleric. 

Gray dust still lingered in the stagnant air, creating a blinding and choking fog, hindering the cleric duo's advance. But the sound of intense battle ahead forced them to hurry their legs - the unidentified explosion must have been a spell casted by the culprit attacking the paladins, and they could be gravely injured and fighting for their life right now.

As Roselie entered the large room, a terrifying scene halted her advance. A giant mountain of flesh was swinging a morningstar as big as a mature cow around, trying to crush one of the paladins. It must have been the undead ogre - Roselie calmed herself down and identified the grotesque creature - It was at least three times taller than her, there were multiple wound on its body, both old and new ones, there were a handful of swords and spears still stuck in its abdomen, oozing rotten liquid onto the ground. 

A long, pale crimson piece of intestine hung outside its open stomach, which made Roselie puked a little in her mouth. The three paladins were alive and still on their feet, but their situation was nothing to be happy about. All three were badly damaged by a fireball spell, burn marks and blisters appeared on any part with bare skins. Their beard singed. 

An immense amount of undead slain littered the ground, making it almost a difficult terrain to traverse, yet, it was nothing to the giant undead ogre who easily squashed the corpses and pressed its attacks.

Kerry the cleric dwarf immediately grasped her holy symbol and spoke a prayer to her god, a word of healing for her injured allies as a warm light appeared and enveloped their bodies before seeping in the wounds and closing them.

"Careful Tob!" Roselie yelled while simultaneously pulling out a silver mirror in her component pouch and placed it before her staff. "O' the almighty watcher of the Cycle, my lady Lathander, observer of Life and Death, grant unto your child safety. Sanctuary!"

As the giant morningstar went down into a dangerous arc, Tob was once again covered in holy light - but it was quite different from the divine magic he usually was blessed with - this light was more gentle yet firm, not the fiery type of his lord god Tempus. The morningstar slammed into the ground next to him as if an invisible barrier changed its course, if not for the timely protection magic Roselie just casted, the morningstar would have made Tob into a pile of meat and bone. The undead creature roared angrily as it detected divine magic from the clerics as it slowly looked over to the room entrance. Terrified, both Roselie and Kerry instinctively took a step back as the giant took a step towards them. But Roselie still had her spells and items. She would not back down now.

"Guys, clear out the smaller ones, Kerry and I will buy us some time!" 

Roselie yelled before she lit up a match and set the cloth on her firebomb ablaze. Kerry saw the human cleric bravely order the stronger paladins to take care of the small fries while she took on the giant undead creature - she was flabbergasted. 

But Kerry smiled to herself, she was a cleric of the god of war Tempus - she couldn't possibly lose against a cleric of Lathander. Kerry readied her flail on her right hand and snatched her holy symbol out of her neck with her left hand and got into position. 

"Alright! Bring it on you filthy giant!"

She breathed in deeply as Roselie launched the makeshift fire bomb towards the beast and casted a spell on herself to enhance her ability - giving her the strength equivalent of a grizzly bear. Kerry's arms swelled and her blood vessels enlarged, one long vein popped out of her forehead and ran down towards her nose. The fire bomb exploded, covering the undead ogre in a violent flame, impeding its advance and causing it to flail around desperately, trying to put out the fire. 

This human girl is insane! Where the hell did she learn to make that thing?

Kerry thought to herself before using a tall mount of ore to propel herself with a jump and swung the flail with all her strength. The attack struck true right into the creature's burning head, causing it to roar and take a step back. Not stopping there, Kerry swiftly negated her fall with a tactical roll and slammed her weapon into the ogre's knee - a solid crack indicated that she had successfully shattered its rotten bones. 

Next, I'll get on its back when it extinguishes the fire and bring it down.

Kerry stood up post haste and ran towards the wall, her left hand reaching for a vial of stamina potion as she felt her breath ragged. But her plan didn't account for the intervention of a third party - by the time she realized none of the undead currently present in the room could create such an explosion before, her muscle had seized up and the momentum had her fell face first into the cold hard floor.

Kerry could not move a muscle.

She was not unconscious, for she was thinking straight.

She was still breathing, and the dust on the ground entered her nose. But she couldn't sneeze.

She was completely paralyzed.

On the other side of the room, the three paladins were met with an absurdly large horde of undead. - Zombies, ghouls, skeletons, some were alive and well dwarf miners mere hours ago, some had been turned for at least a week, according to their decomposition and unbearable stench. 

Tob, Keghood and Copperjaw swung and stabbed and thrusted and slashed nonstop as the mount of corpses gradually filled the entrance. The undead knew no pain and they experienced no exhaustion, but the same could not be said for the paladins. Their arms were scratched and bruised with wounds, their armors dented and smeared with unidentifiable refuse, their weapons caked in blood and fat and rotten flesh. 

Yet, the situation seemed to lean on their side: the undead more or less were contained, the survivors were rescued and the two cleric girls seemed capable of handling the reanimated ogre by themselves. Tob grinned and channeled the divine power lended to him by his lord god Tempus into his blade, igniting the longsword into purifying flame, burning away filth and sharpening its edge and precisely dispatching each undead he struck with one swift strike. Keghood rammed his greatsword forward, skewering multiple zombies and roared a war cry. But this maneuver left his sword completely stuck as a reanimated dwarf miner rushed him. Keghood swiftly branded his long bladed dagger and quickly defended himself against a leaping ghoul. With each reanimated corpse fell, the horde thinned out and, as violent as it seemed, Copperjaw bisected the last zombie with an upward strike, spraying its coagulated dark blood onto the ceiling like a celebratory sick and filthy burst of confetti. 

But there was no time for cheers or rest. The undead ogre roared as Tob heard Roselie - the human cleric who came to his aid from Niliphy, screamed in pain. He turned and saw Kerry pinned under a collapsed pile of stone, the ogre looming over her idly with its morningstar in hand seemingly waiting for order. And the human cleric girl was held aloft, her slender throat easily grasped and lifted by a figure wearing black vestment. The undead leader - the culprit they were investigating, the one who casted the fireball spell at them mere minutes ago. 

Time was of the essence, Roselie's face was gradually turning red as her struggle weakened, she attempted to kick at her captor to no avail. Tob nodded to his trusty fellow paladins as they all scrambled forth into the fray - the clerics did just what they needed, which was buying time, now it was their turn to help them. Copperjaw and Keghood both ran towards the giant ogre and as if orchestrated before, they knew what to do perfectly. Keghood slided and quickly pull the unconscious Kerry out of the rubble and rolled away while Copperjaw faced the creature. It growled angrily, letting all manners of liquid dripping out of its mouth when Copperjaw raised his holy symbol aloft before it. The flaming sword pendant glowed and casted a burning light onto the ogre.

Now it was truly angry.

It was a taunt, the trick Copperjaw did.

And it was effective. He lured the undead ogre and gained its attention - Keghood needed time to stabilize Kerry while Tob had to deal with the culprit. He must face the ogre alone. A thought which would strike fear or hesitation into any sane creature. 

"Lord god Tempus, the prince of the hunt, the glorious warrior, the undefeated champion, bear witness! This kill marks my resolve and my dedication to you! HARRR!!!"

Copperjaw yelled his warcry as he loaded the mechanism on his switch axe. The heavy metal springs primed and ready for his trigger. He rushed towards the wounded ogre, branding his axe on to the side. A swift slide over the legs of the giant ogre to evade its morningstar slam and then, Copperjaw planted his legs steady on the gritty stone floor, sprang up from prone, clamped down his feet and brought his blade into an upward motion - his special move. The sword part of the blade tore through the creature's rotting bottom and stopped after shattering two vertebrates as it roared in pain. It tried to turn its body around, making blood and maggots spill out as Copperjaw spat in disgust. He was not finished. He squeezed down on the large metal trigger, releasing the ring attached to the two springs with a loud bang. The blade immediately splitted in half and sprang into an arc, doubling the length of the weapon and further pushing the blade up to the creature's torso as the axe portion of the weapon slammed upward from the recoil of the cleverly placed counterweight - ripping off the ogre's hips from its body. The weapon turned into its axe form with bits and pieces of rotten flesh stuck in its mechanism. But the sheer blunt force of the mechanism obliterated the creature as Copperjaw gritted and brought the axe down again, slamming the ogre to the ground and completely dispelled the necromantic energy holding the creature from returning to the Cycle. The undead ogre was no more as its soul finally laid to rest in the astral sea.

===

The human cleric girl squirmed painfully, the bony long fingers of the undead necromancer wrapped around her neck and gradually crushed her windpipe. Roselie punched and kicked, but the necromancer seemed to regard her struggle a mere nuance. Her eyes watered and she could feel her heart beat loudly in her ears. Roselie wanted to think of a plan to escape, to somehow get a lungful of air, but her body was currently pumped full of adrenaline and her mind couldn't shake off the thought that she was going to die. 

The undead necromancer brought its staff to her chest and yanked her holy symbol free from the necklace. And a creepy wide smile crept on its face, its shriveled, opaque eyes stared at Roselie.

"...Lath…Lathander…"

The necromancer murmured and brought her holy symbol close to its face and rubbed the pendant around, similar to what a canine would do with its favorite toy. It seemed that seeing the holy symbol of Lathander had brought the necromancer great pleasure as it released its clasping claw and dropped Roselie on her knees to caress the pendant. 

Roselie was thankful for her goddess and greedily gasped for air. Lathander must have lended her a helping hand when the holy symbol dropped out of her tunic pocket when she struggled to escape. 

She slowly regained her composure when Tob the dwarf paladin dashed and struck the necromancer dead in the stomach. Its holy vestment tattered as it shrieked and brought both arms to touch the torn robe as if attempting to mend it. Tob paid no heed to the behavior as he readied his blade and, once again, lit it with a radiant fire and thrusted forward. For a second, Tob eyes saw his blade bit into the torso of the necromancer yet his hand felt no resistance. And one could completely miss it if one blinked, the necromancer exploded into a cloud of white mist, leaving Tob's blade aloft having struck nothing but air, the fire sizzled and disappeared. Tob pondered if he should try to locate the necromancer via divination for but a second - he immediately sheathed and rushed to Roselie side. 

"Girl! Are you okay?! Any injuries?"

"I… I'm fine now…" She coughed and touched her neck "It escaped?"

Tob frowned and kneeled next to Roselie and pried off her hands to examine the clear outline of a hand with multiple scratch marks that she caused herself when she tried to escape. Tob gently traced his fingers onto the bleeding wounds and passed his divine energy to heal them. "Aye. It escaped." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

He looked over to his allies, most of whom were dutifully carrying out a purifying ritual to pray for the safety of the departed souls after the battle. Kerry sat atop a crate, her armor plate had a giant dent and multiple holes caused by the gigantic morningstar attack. She tiredly waved at Tob.

It seemed like they all had persevered - beaten, injured, exhausted, but survived. But they all knew, although some might not be willing to admit, as long as the necromancer still exists, the undead threat will still persist. Living beings will no doubt perish daily, and their souls will return to the Cycle. But a necromancer will disrupt the process and actively turn the dead to harm the living.

Roselie grabbed her staff and rose, she leaned on the wall to support herself and casted a gaze over her current allies. Can we press on, or should we go back? The necromancer took my pendant. Are there any more undead, we killed so much already… Many thoughts swarmed Roselie's head as she wanted to continue hunting down the perpetrator of the attacks, but it only took a glance that anyone could tell they were all exhausted. The stagnant air from the mine, the putrid, rotting flesh, smoke and dust… Roselie tried to breathe deeply, but it felt unrefreshing, almost as if she couldn't breathe. 

Before she could muster her courage to voice her opinion, Tob clicked his tongue and advanced to the center of the room. 

"Everyone, are ye wounds all taken care of? We should not waste time any longer, let us continue tracking down the necromancer."

Roselie's eyes went wide. Keghood, Copperjaw and Kerry enthusiastically replied to Tob's call and approached him. They brought out and consumed healing potions and energy potions, they bandaged their unhealed wounds and cleaned their weapons. They were clearly eager to continue the mission despite their wounds and exhaustion. Roselie straightened her back and took a step towards them.

"And ye, Roselie. Ye can go back and rest up, ye don't have to go with us. If ye could, ye know, bring reinforcement if we don't return, we would really appreciate that."

"It's dangerous… there might be more undead…"

"Aye."

"You all are tired and injured."

"Aye."

"You all are willing to press on?"

"Aye."

"Of course."

"Mmm."

Tob relaxed his brows and glanced at the young human cleric. It was clear that she was affected by the necromantic energy - her legs were wobbly, she was sweating bullets and her breath ragged. "If not us, who? We are warriors of Tempus, we are not backing down just because we are a little tired. This undead must be stopped before more lives are lost, I can't bear to see more of my brethren becoming inanimate corpses, raiding their own town and family." 

The rest of the dwarves nodded in agreement. They rest their hands on their weapons - one of their most important belongings as a servant of Tempus, the god of war.

Roselie slowly exhaled and steeled her resolve. She was now an ArchDeacon of Lathander, and she must act like one. The undead are disrupting the Cycle, directly opposing the will of the Warden. Furthermore, the necromancer perpetrator had a strange obsession with her goddess - she must get to the bottom of the incident to stop it from sowing misinformation about the goddess Lathander to those of other beliefs. 

The dwarves' bravery, and somewhat hardheadedness, reminded Roselie of Harrison the human warrior - the tank of her adventuring party and a man of steel conviction despite not following any religious teaching. I must also learn that courage from him.

"I… I wish to join you. I must also see through this mission - I must discover the reasons why this necromancer came to be." Roselie spoke up and squeezed her staff. "Please allow me to tag along… I believe I can find the necromancer with a spell."

The dwarves looked at each other for but a second, then they laughed out loud. But it was not to convey any malicious or negative meaning. She wished to accompany them to take down the evil that preyed upon their homes - that much was enough reason for them to view her as one of their own. 

She was a human, they were dwarves. She followed the teaching of Lathander, they were soldiers of Tempus. But there was one thing they all had in common: they were acting upon the will of their gods, and that made them allies.

"Very well then, Roselie, cleric of Lathander." Copperjaw loudly voiced "Let us put an end to this necromancer together."

===

Deep under an underground lake, a glimmering ray of light escaped a dark tunnel, it didn't travel far as aquatic plants sprawled out everywhere blocking the said tunnel. The lake was a crater from the mining of the dwarves decades ago before an unfortunate dwarf knocked over a boulder in the bottom of an underground stream, resulting in the creation of the lake. The dwarves had blocked all mine shafts traveling to the lake, as the local area stone formation had a high concentration of limestone, constant contact with water (which had plenty of carbon dioxide from mining activity dissolved in it, but the dwarves did not possess this knowledge) weaken the structural integrity of the mine and the natural cave system as a whole.

The tunnel in the bottom of the lake was one of the abandoned mine shafts leading further into the cave system, and fortunately, a large crevice from the mining activity had created a buffer between an immense amount of water rushing in and a relatively dry natural cave. The cave inside had a tall, dome-like roof with sharp stone formation sticking out. The edges of the cave were clearly excavated - stone was broken and transported outside, pickaxes and shovels were piled in a tall corner, some were new, some rusty and dented. On the floor was a giant ritual circle drawn with chalk - one could clearly discern what the drawing was depicting: life and death on both half of the circle, the Sea of Souls sprawled diagonally equal between both side and of the servants of the Warden, donning white and black cloaks, kneeling and chanting a prayer. But this ritual circle was different from that inside the supreme church of Lathander in Niliphy - there were depiction of white human skulls wearing a thorny crown all around the circle, the skulls were placed on each servants head, on both halves of life and death and multiple in the Sea of Souls. 

The ritual circle was illuminated by a larger circle made of wax candles, some placed directly on the stone floor, some stuck on skulls as the wax dripping created an eerie malformed cluster of human skulls. In the far end of the cave there was a large rectangular stone, which served as a table for the individual standing before it, casting his gaze down on his drawing. The chalk stone - stolen from the mining towns on the surfaces, still in his hand. He closed his eyes and felt a warm sensation upon his torso, so warm and comfortable. But it was strange… He was not supposed to feel warmth any longer, for he was already dead. He was supposed to not feel anything, but he did. He patted the necklace pendant on his torso with his spare hand - the pendant intricately crafted to depict a road traveling into a sunrise - one of the most familiar symbols to him while he was still alive.

He used to be one of the most devout worshipers of goddess Lathander, he had been granted the rank of Saint by the holy ArchBishop of the church before he fell ill of an incurable disease. 

Saint Ruvinheigen.

Most pious worshipers of Lathander would recognize this name - the Saint who devoted his life to save thousands of others and brought the teaching of Lathander to thousands more. 

By the order of the ArchBishop, he was to be entombed in a special ivory coffin next to the coffins of all the previous Saints serving Lathander in the secret tunnels under the supreme church. 

Yet, Ruvinheigen's body wasn't present inside the coffin.

How could he lay dead when there were still towns and villages unknown to the teaching of the Watcher, the Warden? How could he rest in peace when he can still serve his goddess perfectly fine? 

Was it an aberration of the Cycle?

Or…

Was it an interference from the gods above?

No mortal could determine that. How could they really? How could a mere mortal understand the goals of the gods? Ruvinheigen only needs to serve. His goddess had answered his prayers, she had heard his pious will to serve. More and more. She had allowed him to walk among the living once again, in the vessel that was his own decomposed body. No matter. What mattered was his will and his faith. Ruvinheigen wrapped his body in the black saint robe and took a hold of his priestly staff. He was himself, once again, ready to give his all to the order of the Cycle.

What do I need to do, my goddess?

He asked. And answers he received. He did not spare a second to think about the distorted voice from his goddess, of the vile language she uttered and of the contradictory orders she had bestowed upon him. All that mattered was that she answered Ruvinheigen's prayer - and he will carry out her order.

Soon… soon…

The zealous instrument… to spread the love of Lathander to the world…

Yesss…

Ruvinheigen uncorked a waterskin full of a dark crimson liquid - blood, and poured it inside the ritual circle. The blood almost defied the law of physics, hovering above the floor and slowly marking out a second ritual circle of blood. A depiction of evil. A one-eyed creature with a terrifying toothy maw and multiple smaller eyestalks. As the third waterskin dried off its content, the floating circle was complete and immediately splattered down to the chalk drawn ritual circle, as if gravity suddenly could affect it again. 

Now… a sacrifice…

What is more worthy as a sacrifice than a fervent Saint?

Ruvinheigen squeezed the holy symbol of Lathander in his bony hand and slowly stepped into the circle. The cave was airtight, yet the candles flickered as if a cold wind rushed through. The room darkened, the presence of darkness slowly reaching out its many arms and latching onto the undead necromancer. Ruvinheigen could feel its claw digging deep into his rotten body as if they were trying to pull him apart, greedily claiming their share of him. He slowly leaned back and threw his arms to the sides as multiple claws made of shadow immediately sprang out from the ritual circle and restrained them. Black blood - the type of rotten blood imbued with necromantic energy, dripped out from Ruvinheigen and puddled beneath his legs.

Soon… I'll become… worthy of lady Lathander… 

Roselie struggled and flailed her arms in a panic state. She could barely open her eyes to see where she was swimming to as the cold water irritated her corneas. It was her idea at first: to locate the undead necromancer, she would cast a spell to locate one of her belongings - the holy symbol of Lathander that the undead culprit took from her. Her goddess answered Roselie's prayer and pointed towards the deeper parts of the mine under the Krummel Marora canyon. Roselie and the dwarves navigated through the labyrinth of mine shafts, some of which had caved in, some were blocked up with wooden planks to deter miners from getting lost into dangerous mines. 

It was dark, and Roselie was not granted the gift of dark vision like the dwarves, who were rushing through the mine without any hesitation - she was only a human after all. So Roselie had to expend her precious energy to cast a light spell onto her staff to illuminate the surroundings - she only had some spells left in her, and the necromancer was still at large. The upcoming battle might be riddled with undead, so she wanted to save as much divine energy as possible to turn them, if they wanted a chance of surviving the encounter. The dwarves had also used up much of their divine energy while dispatching the large horde, putting them in a bad situation: they could go back to the surface and rest up, risking the necromancer escaping or worse, achieving his unknown agenda. He could be conjuring another large horde of undead for all they knew. The other choice was to press on and finish the necromancer once for all - they were exhausted, but the necromancer might also used up much of his necromantic spells to maintain the grip on his horde previously. And it was obvious that the dwarves serving the god of war would never retreat or back down, not while the threat was still looming over the three mining towns of Krummel Marora.

Roselie led the group through a long mine shaft until they reached a large natural cave with an underground lake etched into the center of the room. There were signs of mining activities, but dated and old - Roselie didn't have to worry about any hidden tunnels or crevices hiding an ambush full of undead. And she could feel it, her holy symbol pendant was somewhere underneath the lake. Did the necromancer throw the pendant down the lake? Roselie thought, but quickly rectified herself. The necromancer showed signs of intense obsession with Lathander… there is no way he would throw away my pendant. The human cleric remembered the outfit and the staff the necromancer was carrying - a similar type of outfit she had seen somewhere in the supreme church when she was still an apprentice cleric. But where? Where did I see it? The black robe was similar to that of the head bishop albeit old and weathered. And there were two unfamiliar white stripes on both sleeves… White stripes? It means the necromancer might be a… saint? Roselie frowned. Black robe with white stripes on sleeves - the traditional outfit of a saint, a worshiper ranked higher than the bishop and lower than the archbishop.

"Hmm…" Roselie instinctively tapped her finger on her lips

"Well… this is a deadend… there are no other mine shafts in this cave…" Tob rummaged through the rubbles on the sides, trying to find a hidden path of sorts. "Can you feel your holy symbol near?"

"Ah… yes. It's under the lake…"

"Under?" Kerry widened her eyes and loudly exclaimed "Did 'e fall down or sumthing?"

"I don't think so… I think we must dive down…"

Hesitated, but steel-willed. The dwarves begrudgingly prepared themselves by securing any loose ordnance and dove down the lake immediately, closely followed by Roselie. She took a deep breath, left her thoughts behind and took a leap of faith. The water was extremely cold, so cold that it almost forced Roselie to instinctively exhale all the air in her lungs. The heavy equipment helped her slowly but surely sink down the deep lake, not as fast as the dwarves, who were naturally heavier than a human girl and they were donning metal armors. Roselie tried to keep her eyes open, it was pitch black. If not for her light spell on her staff, she would not even see her own arms flailing about. 

This is too deep… Where is the hidden tunnel?

Roselie frantically looked around her when she reached the bottom of the lake after a long minute of sinking into the darkness. The pressure pressed onto her chest, making her uncomfortably released a large gulp of air. She needed to breathe, her lungs were on fire.

Where is Kerry? Where is Tob?

Roselie thought it was a mistake to jump down the deep lake without any precaution. In hindsight. She tried to swim up, but couldn't. Her priestly robe and equipment were extremely heavy when soaked in water, and she had no time to take them off. Roselie could feel her eyes slightly bulged, her heart beating fast in her ears. Would she just die here? Before she could stop the undead necromancer? She flailed her arms and legs, stirring up a fog of stone dust from the bottom of the lake and ripped off some aquatic plants.

Disoriented.

Panicked.

Afraid.

Roselie was losing consciousness. Her flailing weakened. She had a final thought of her adventuring party, of how she had so much fun traveling with them. I'm sorry… She thought about her goddess Lathander, of the order of the Cycle, of the supreme church. She could not serve any longer, right after she became ArchDeacon, no less. 

Roselie opened her mouth as large bubbles came out and water rushed into her lungs. It burns… She could not feel anything but cold. And then… something grabbed her ankle tightly, as if crushing it. The sudden pain caused her to regain a slight bit of consciousness, but she was still in a terrible situation. 

Something yanked her staff out of her loose hand and her ankle was pulled violently as her limp body glided near the bottom of the lake. Roselie had no more strength to resist, she didn't even know whether she died and her soul was being extracted and on the way to the astral sea or not. But a sudden intense bright light hurted her eyes as the heavy pressure in the bottom of the lake disappeared and a cold draft of air shocked Roselie. A bearded figure looked at her in the eyes. Who was it? Roselie could not focus, she felt herself slowly drifting away. She felt something touch her neck and nose. She heard yelling, unintelligible gibberish, everything sounded distant to her. And then the darkness took her.

===

It was warm and full of light. Warm, golden rays of sunlight came through every large tinted window, making a beautiful carpet of colors. Roselie stood in the middle of them, and she had no idea where she was. At the back of her head, there was a slight discomfort, as if a memory was trying to make itself remembered by Roselie. 

Roselie took a deep breath, she remembered one moment ago, she was in the process of drowning under a lake, then the next moment, she was standing here - inside an unknown building. The interior reminded her of a church, but there were no signs of any religious or holy symbols, and the church was empty - there were no pew chairs for church-goers, there were no lighting such as candelabras and chandeliers, there were no communion table and no altar. Roselie squinted her eyes and took a good look at the tinted windows on the ivory white walls - they were intricately crafted, and Roselie could make out figures in each one. There were six windows, and six different figures in each - a cloaked figure holding a long scythe, a beautiful red-haired woman wearing a pure white gown, her skin glowed with the color of copper, a shorter female figure wearing a familiar type of attire - the usual leather clothing of adventurers, her hair colored hazel and she wielded a longbow, a stout figure depicted with a great white beard, behind him was a blacksmith oven and anvils and hammers, an incredibly well built figure came next, with ebony skin and red hair, he held high a red flag with a golden symbol of an upright flaming sword, and finally, a white-cladded woman with golden hair, long and curving as a stream of light, she held a ball of violet yarn with multiple strings coming off to the sides creating something akin to a spider web. All with vibrant color as if they were standing before Roselie. 

With just one glance at each of the figures, Roselie knew she was looking at depictions of the gods of the world. Myrkul the god of death, Sune the goddess of love and beauty, Tymora the goddess of good fortune and adventure, Gond the god of craft, Tempus the god of war and Lathander, the god of birth and renewal. Roselie frowned and thought hard of where a church of all six gods would be, but she couldn't fathom it. All churches of the gods do not harbor hate or detest each other, but they were separate in many ways. The god of death and the god of birth do not despise each other, they actually were both necessary to complete the cycle - the church of Myrkul and the church of Lathander both follow the order of the Cycle. 

Deep in thought, Roselie was startled by a loud bell toll. Multiple unseen bells rang into a cacophony of echoing sound, filling the entire church interior. What is it? Roselie looked around and asked herself. Why are the bells tolling? And she saw it. A jet black blob of matter grew out on the ivory wall above the depiction of Lathander, its tentacles slowly grew and slither towards the tinted window. Roselie saw the black material moving constantly inside the blob, as if it was alive. Roselie's adventuring instinct told her that she was in danger, hairs on her back neck raised and she had a shiver as the air around her instantly went to a freezing cold. The black creature's tentacles slowly latched onto the window and covered up the depiction as it grew and grew. Its body became larger in size and spreaded out more and more. A cancerous living cell it was. Many of its tentacles slowly crept towards the other windows when the warm light was replaced with a gloomy gray glow and the carpet of colors disappeared. 

What is happening? What is it?

Roselie brought her dominant arm up and saw she was holding her staff. The silver and gold staff with three golden rings, given to her when she ascended to the rank of ArchDeacon. She reached for her holy symbol with her other hand, but it was not on her neck. And as if responding to her action, Roselie saw in the center of the cancerous cell, a glistering golden pendant slipped out, buried between the tar-ish material. She gripped her staff tightly and gritted her teeth. Give it back. She screamed in her mind. The little cleric girl tried to channel her divine energy into her staff and burn away the impurity, but the staff didn't respond to her. She couldn't hear her goddess voice, her prayer did not reach her goddess. 

The bell tolls suddenly stopped. Everything went dead quiet except the constant squirming of the jet black creature's tentacles, still spreading and latching onto the tinted depictions of the gods. Then, from the main body of the creature, now inflated and bulbous, a stream of black ichor dripped out onto the white stone floor as if someone spilled an entire bucket of tar. And then more tar-ish substance bursted out of the creature until something ripped its way out of the black cell. Two jet black arms came through and slowly pulled away the blemish cover outside, revealing a dark humanoid creature. It jumped out of its black placenta and stood before Roselie, staring at her with its featureless face as the tar pooled under its feet. 

Evil. Pure evil…

Roselie trembled. She knew the creature before her was something not allowed on her world, on the material plane. It was a risk for all living beings, a risk to the cycle and the gods themselves. She recalled some of her lessons before she became an adventurer cleric, about the Grand War of the Gods in the Fatal era, about the many ascended creatures naming themselves the demon lord and waged war upon living creatures on the material plane. One of the very first demon lords was a creature of pure shadow, coalesced upon the world by the hatred and violence of humanity, elvenkind and dwarvenkind. The history scripture named it the Shadow Lord. It brought many untold shadow horrors and destroyed many a cities. Any living creature was terrified of their own shadow, as nightcrawlers with their power borrowed from their lord could creep out from any shadow and kill any moving, breathing thing in sight. 

And the creature before her was, no doubt, related to the Shadow Lord.

What should I do… I can't let it break free…

Lady Lathander… please guide your child…

I'm lost and powerless without your help..

As Roselie silently prayed, an intense pain seared into her mind and forced her to kneeled down and held her head. To describe it to a mortal being, it was akin to a terribly loud explosion happening right inside your head. It was a telepathic attack of sorts, as Roselie regained her bearing and kept her chase upon the shadow creature, a voice echoed inside her weakened mind, a cacophony of voices, young, old, male, female… 

You are too late… too bad too bad too bad for you…

What was… its name again? Ahhhhh Ruvinheigen… What a devout worshiper, what a pious saint… 

WIth just a false hope of your wretched god appearing before it, the damned dog gave up its body for meeeee…

Will you join me?

"Shut up! Shut up you filthy creature! Stop spouting your evil intent, you foul godless being!" Roselie screamed on the top of her lungs "Begone! Get out of my head! I will stop you no matter what, wretched fiend!"

HAHAHAHAHAHA

TOO LATE TOO LATE TOO LATE

GIVE UP GIVE UP GIVE UP

The pain intensified inside Roselie's head as the shadow creature roared and leapt towards her. Its featureless arms grew claws, tattered wings sprouted from its back, its blank face separated into four and revealed a toothy maw with a long, black tongue. Roselie brought her staff up to guard but it easily swiped her arms to the side with an inhuman strength and drove its free claw straight into her chest.

Roselie blacked out for a second as the sheer force of the blow knocked everything out of her. Her whole body suddenly regained feeling as Roselie felt a bone chilling cold. She was completely drenched and something was pounding on her chest, repeatedly. Was the creature ripping her apart? No. The pounding was way weaker, but enough to cause Roselie an intense discomfort. 

She coughed.

And it all came back to her. 

Roselie puked out the black tar onto the stone floor as Tob pressed tightly down on her torso. His chest compression had successfully pulled Roselie back from the dead, yet he was confused as to why the cleric girl threw up a black substance. 

"She's back! She's back!" Kerry yelled and grasped Keghood's shoulder tightly. She was worried for her fellow cleric - they did not expect a magic glyph to go off when the party dove down into the lake. The glyph instantly incapacitated Roselie as she reached the bottom, causing her to drown immediately after that. If not for Copperjaw's quick reaction to notify Tob, the human cleric could have lost her life. Kerry knew she could bring Roselie back, but she did not have the necessary material for a revivify ritual on hand and she did not have much divine energy left in her.

Tob gently laid Roselie on her side and caressed her back as she retched and pushed more of the black tar out.

"What the 'ell is that, Roselie lass? Oh Lord Tempus… What did the necromancer do to you?"

He was feeling extremely guilty for bringing a human to his aid from the beginning, but as she was targeted multiple times by the necromancer, his guilt only built up more and more. He should have known, the necromancer showed signs of intense obsession for Lathander - Roselie was a cleric of the Lathander church, she would have been targeted by it naturally. Yet he still asked her for help, pushing her into unnecessary danger. Tob sighed and raised his hand up:

"Let's go back to the surface. We are in no shape to continue to fight. Roselie is grievously wounded. We should call for reinforce…"

Before Tob could finish his sentence, Roselie suddenly perked up and grasped his hand and pleaded: "No! We can not go back yet! Not yet! There is an indescribable evil down there, and if it breaks out into the world, we might as well have started another Grand War!"

"What the 'ell are you talking about, lass?" Keghood inquired "Are you 'allucinating?"

"I saw it. With my own eyes. In my dream…" Roselie wiped her mouth, leaving a black blemish on her sleeve "A creature born from a cancerous sac, dark as tar and it was evil. It told me of its plan of using the necromancer, who used to be a saint of Lathander, to destroy the world."

The dwarves went silent as the frail cleric girl spoke her mind.

"We must stop it, there must still be time. We cannot let it fully manifest into our realm, our material plane. For Lathander, for Tempus, for the gods above and for the lives of all creatures."

Tob offered his hand to her and helped her stand up. Roselie was in pain, her muscles ached, her ribs must have been fractured from the chest compression, her lungs burned, her throat and mouth irritated from the black tar. But she was also full of determination. Tob could observe that much. Dwarves were usually viewed as a stout and insensitive race, similar to that of stone. But Tob understood how the cleric before him was feeling. He looked over to his dwarven allies as they also looked at him, waiting for order. He grinned: "Well lads and lass, you 'eard the human. We are fighting."

The next hour was almost a blur to Roselie's mind. All she could muster up in her mind, a psychically damaged mind, was the pure evil being who was in the process of manifesting itself with the help of a saint, strayed from the teaching of Lathander. She wished her adventuring party was with her. Harrison would definitely protect her, Elluin would definitely shower the undead with a barrage of exploding arrows, Charlie would definitely find a way to stop the necromancer. 

Alas, she was going to battle the undead necromancer, and possibly the creature, with her new allies - the dwarves of the Tempus church. Roselie drank her last healing potion, the bitter green liquid traveled down her throat and immediately relieved her breathlessness from her fractured ribs. The dwarves were already ready for battle. They always were. Keghood held his greatsword with both hand, ready to thrust forward into any threat, Kerry applied a purifying oil onto her armor and her weapon as she prayed to her lord god Tempus, Copperjaw rearmed his switch axe, ready to obliterate anything with the strength of the mechanism his family perfected throughout many centuries, Tob confidently and brazenly led the group, his longsword held to the side. 

Roselie braved towards her party, she was wet, cold, weakened. But she was not giving up. And she will put an end to the scheme of evil. She will carry out the order of the Cycle. Roselie squeezed her priestly staff of silver and gold, the golden rings made a ringing sound when Roselie said a word of prayer to her goddess. Under tons of stone and dirt, deprived of sunlight and fresh air, Roselie never felt so connected to Lathander. She felt as if her goddess was looking out for her directly at that very moment.

And before the party, another cave. But there was a plethora of candles, placed directly onto the floor, placed on skulls and other trinkets alike, giving light to a ritual circle on the floor. And in the center of the circle was the undead necromancer. He was floating, no, he was being held aloft by multiple black tendrils. His head flopped to the side, lifeless, as the tendrils forced itself into his mouth. A bizarre sight took the words out of all the brave dwarves and humans before it. The candle's light all flickered as a wicked scream echoed into the room and the necromancer was slowly put down by the black tentacles. His body twisted and turned in an impossible manner, his grimace slowly turned into a creepily wide smile.

"Wel…come… heroes… here to stop… meeeee? Aren't… you… too…late…?"

Roselie shivered as she remembered the creature in her nightmare, screaming out "too late too late".

"Kill it!" Tob roared and rushed forward as the party immediately spread out. The necromancer was alone, no undead insight. This was the best time to take down the enemy, and the party knew that. 

Copperjaw slid on the floor to the right side and let loose a bolt from his bracer crossbow. The bolt struck true right in the rib of the necromancer, dark tar, the same tar Roselie spitted out before, oozed out from the wound.

Tob dashed as quick as his short dwarven legs could bring him, his longsword blazen up in radiant flame once more. He rapidly approached the enemy and plunged his blade deep into the torso of the necromancer and delivered a searing smite as a radiant flame burst out and swallowed the figure.

Keghood touched his sword and channeled his divine energy into it, leaving a purple light behind as the sword became magical. He rushed forward and severed multiple tendrils from the floor, they flopped down and turned into mush as Keghood swung his sword skillfully into a repeating pattern, tearing the tendrils apart.

Kerry stood next to Roselie. She tapped Roselie on the shoulder and nodded to her, then she raised her holy symbol and rushed forward. 

"Lord god Tempus! The undefeated champion, the glorious hunter, the vicious fighter, send down the flame of judgment and burn away the heretics!"

As soon as she finished her prayer, a red magic circle appeared on the ceiling as it drew out the symbol of Tempus and sent down a giant column of white and red flame, swallowing the necromancer whole as the intense heat blasted away the moisture on the party. 

Roselie only had three spells left in her. And she was ready to give her all to bring down the evil being before her. She had hoped that the instantaneous attacks were enough, but it was clear that the creature still lives as a tentacle whipped out to the side and was ready to attack.

Roselie took out a piece of parchment from her material pouch, mounted it on the sharpened tip of her staff and raised it while she prayed to her goddess at the same time before casting a protection spell onto Tob, creating a divine shield between him and the creature. The spell was timely too, because as soon as Roselie finished casting, the giant tar-ish tentacle slammed onto the shield with an insurmountable force. Tob was knocked back into a kneeling position, but undamaged nonetheless thanks to the shield of faith.

But…

It seemed that the necromancer finally decided to take his turn.

As the fire dissipated, the party caught a glimpse of the undead necromancer: he took a great amount of damage from the party's first wave of attack. Yet, something was clearly wrong. Any beings of faith, which fortunately was everyone in the room at that moment, could feel the intense necromantic energy radiating from the necromancer. Jet black blemish gradually took hold on the necromancer's body, clearly shown through the saint robe as black blob of slime-ish material. At the openings of wounds on his body, a small droplet of black substance appeared, as if it seeped through the cuts and trying to fill in the vacant spot. 

The malicious grin on his face grew wider.

RiSe! My ChiLdReN! A cacophony of voices echoed around the room as multiple black tentacles bursted through the stone floor and targeted the party directly. The necromancer himself slowly walked towards the crouching Tob. Each step he took left behind a black footprint and a foul aura. 

"Come and get some, you vile bastard!" Tob roared and took two steps backwards as the necromancer slammed the black tentacle, seemingly growing from his back, onto the floor where Tob had just been mere seconds before. The necromancer raised both of his arms as the black substance traveled to them and formed two sets of claws. Roselie involuntarily shivered - it was the same claws that drove into her torso before. She glanced around, everyone else was busy handling the summoned tentacles. She had to help Tob - there was no other way. 

Tob brought his longsword up to guard his openings. His opponent was clearly much more dangerous than he expected from the beginning. He should have inferred the threat from the moment Roselie the human cleric spoke of her dream - her goddess must have warned her of the foul creature. He did not have much more, in terms of spells. He had burned through his divine energy for multiple smite attacks. Now he only had his wits and the blessing of Tempus left. 

Tob swung his sword repeatedly into a figure 8, both creating a safe buffer zone in front of him and pressing his opponent back. Then I shall dash to the left, slide to dodge the tendrils and deliver a blow to the ribs. Then…

"Tob! Careful! Behind you!"

In his razor focus to analyze the foe before him, Tob did not expect a tentacle to appear in his blindspot and immediately latched onto his legs. And it was not all, multiple tentacles slithered from the ground up surrounding Tob.

The paladin dwarf grinned and swung his sword wide into an arc, deterring the tentacles from closing in on him. He wanted to buy time. Because he knew, he trusted his allies and his lord god Tempus. 

"Lady Lathander, the watcher of life and death, the warden of the cycle, please bless my friend with your warmth and protection, please provide sanctuary to this child of yours."

The tendrils wrapped onto Tob's leg instantly perished as a glimmering coat of light blanketed onto Tob. He confidently smirked and roared as he took a leap towards his opponent.

"Begone, necromancer!"

Before he could strike, a flash of brilliant light rushed from behind him and slammed onto the necromancer's torso. A divine magical attack Roselie mustered all her last strength to throw out. A bolt of light that would guide her allies' strike true, as if Lathander herself exposed the weak point of the vile darkness with her radiant light. The bolt embedded itself onto the necromancer's chest and glowed, pulsated. Tob was familiar with the light as he accepted it and thrusted his sword toward it. 

"Harr!"

His sword ripped the necromancer's torso apart as he pulled it to the side with all his weight. Black tar immediately spilled out from the wound, onto his sword and onto the stone floor. But the necromancer was still moving. It swung both of its claws onto the recovering dwarf, but the claws did not physically come into contact with Ton. They glided through the armor and muscle as if they were ethereal, but the pain was real and true. Tob felt as if his strength was instantly sapped from his body, his arms felt weak, his knees were heavy. The exhaustion finally caught up to him as he sweated profusely and dropped his sword.

Tob glanced up to the necromancer's face, but he did not meet its eyes. The necromancer's face was completely consumed by the black tar - dark and constantly moving tar. Its mouth orifice grinned and moved as Tob heard a whisper, a whisper of a language he did not know, he did not understand. But they were vile, evil and powerful. He saw visions of violence, of disasters, of destruction and the fall of civilization. He saw his own death, drowned in his own blood as a jet black lance drove through his chest and consumed his body. He saw his allies, bodies ripped asunder by the untold evils summoned through a portal. He saw the human cleric named Roselie cry tears of tar as she exploded into bits and pieces of the black substance.

It was too much for Tob. He could not see nor hear his lord god Tempus any more. The paladin dwarf slammed onto the ground as he was paralyzed from the maddenning vision.

ArEn'T yOu ToO lAtE, cLeRic gIrL? SoOn… SoOn… i'lL bEcOmE aS gOd…

It mocked Roselie. Its claw hung loose to both sides, its tentacles waved and slithered. The necromancer had almost completely transformed into the shadow creature in her dream. She was afraid. What could a mortal human like her could do? She reminded herself that she was weak, she was powerless. She was not the chosen one, not even close to bringing any impact onto the evil and good of the world. 

But…

She had her Goddess. She had Lathander and her order of the Cycle. That is enough. She didn't care if she died here. All for the order of the Cycle. 

Roselie hoisted her staff into a launching position, gritted her teeth and prayed to her Goddess.

And then she hurled the staff with all her might - the might of a young girl, imbued with her unwavering trust of her Goddess. 

And the staff struck true. The sharpened blade atop the staff stabbed deep into the glowing guiding bolt she casted before. The necromancer screamed out loud, a deafening scream akin to the scream of a banshee, as its tentacles lashed out desperately. 

Kerry the cleric dwarf took the opportunity to disengage and rushed to the necromancer. She flung her flail with the strength of a dwarf, the spiked metal balls found purchase onto the back of her foe, but Kerry was not expended. She reached for her holy symbol and channeled the last bit of divine energy into her hand and forced it into the figure before her. The divine energy was meant to heal any living creatures, but to the undead and the fiend before her, it burned and destroyed.

Copperjaw was also free from the tentacle he had violently ripped apart. Now he was looking for more. The necromancer roared and reared in pain, the tentacle on its back curled and lashed. He walked to it and swung his switch axe down into a chopping motion. The serrated blade bit deep into the tentacle, but it was obvious that the blade would not cut through. 

Though… Copperjaw never expected it to cut through. He let out a warcry and squeezed the metal trigger on his switch axe to release the locking mechanism as the blade portion quickly slammed forward and folded into the back, transferring the excess kinetic energy into the counterweight to push the axe portion upward, ripping through the rest of the tentacle to sever the it from the black figure, which was twisting in pain. 

"Don't leave me out, lads!" Keghood laughed as he drove his blade into the ribs and turned the sword to attempt locking it in place. Dark refuses, blood and necromantic energy drenched the floor. The necromancer howled, its claws tried to pry off the staff embedded in its chest. However, Roselie would not let it freely act its will. She ran forward and pushed the silver and gold staff deeper, deeper.

LeT gO oF mEeeEeE!!! yOu CrItTerS!!!

It screamed.

I mUsT bEcOmE aS gOd!!! tO sErVe LaDy LatHanDer!

"No! No you can not!" Roselie gritted her teeth "Saint Ruvinheigen, please get back your sense! You are dead, you shall not walk this world no more as Ruvinheigen!"

nOoO!!! sHe aLloWed MeeEee!!! fOr thE gReaTEr GoOd!!!

"Lady Lathander would never! Remember her teaching! Remember the order of the Cycle!"

More and more of the jet black substance dropped off from the body of the necromancer as it struggled to escape. And Roselie saw it. Her pendant. Her holy symbol, bestowed upon her since she was a child, worn on the necromancer's neck. She reached for it, ignoring the thrashing claws, and grasped it tightly.

"Saint Ruvinheigen, as an ArchDeacon of Lathander and a servant of the Cycle, I once again thank you for your contribution. Please, rest in peace and let your soul come to her, to Lathander. She will definitely remind you of your true purpose."

Roselie was exhausted, both physically and mentally. She could only muster up enough strength to cast a cantrip, but she deemed that it was necessary. 

A beacon of light to guide the strayed worshiper back to the righteous path.

Roselie casted light onto her pendant as a warm, radiantly shining light illuminated the room.

nO! NoO!!! nOooO!!!

As soon as the light touched the black tar, it sizzled and smoked, some turned to ash, some evaporated and slowly disappeared from the grievously damaged corpse of the saint.

Ruvinheigen opened his eyes for the first time since his revival. It felt strange. The warm light was… comfortable… He had tried to avoid the sunlight as it irritated him since he became undead. But that was when he was under the influence of the dark shadow.

No more. He thought. 

As he looked down, he saw the face of the human cleric, trying her best to hold him back with her meager strength, But, no matter how small and significant she was, Lathander still loved and accepted her, as she accepted him before. 

He had strayed from the path once and turned against the teaching of the Cycle. 

Could he ever gain back the trust from his goddess? Maybe not.

But the innocent and pure face of the cleric before him reminded him that he just needed to try his best. 

That's it.

That was all that his goddess would ask him.

He heard a whisper. A voice. He saw the lips of the cleric girl moving, but was the voice hers? Or was it Lathander herself speaking to Ruvinheigen? 

"Rest in peace."

Well now… I deserve a rest, don't I?

Ruvinheigen closed his eyes for the last time as the black tar was blasted away from his body. The necromantic energy immediately purified and dissipated, leaving his body slumping and quickly decomposing. 

Ruvinheigen was finally dead. 

And his soul, as any ordinary soul, will return to the Sea of Souls and soon be reborn as another living being in the material world.