Four days later, midday at the village of Wintervale…

Sealed off by a wall of magical thorns that had taken root around the gardens and the graveyard, the village abbey remained off-limits to any and all. Inside its sanctified halls once hallowed in worship of Elicia, one could only wonder with darkest fathoms what was happening within. For after what horrors first spewed forth from it like maggots from a corpse to fall upon the weak and the defenceless, those who died outright upon the snow stained red with both mortal and eldritch blood, knew far better the grace of mercy than the others who were taken into the abbey.

It was the demons, they said. Led by someone they called so fearfully, the ‘Witch’. After getting over the initial shock of the sight of an elf bearing the sigil of Elicia in the form of golden earrings upon her pointy ears, the surviving villagers had asserted that much to her, still wary and confused at the elven Vizier and the human servant travelling alongside her. This, for all they knew, was utter blasphemy in a world dominated by mankind and their god to whom they were but supplicants to her divine will.

But Elena, she knew better. The corpses of the so-called 'demons' she had seen littering the snowy path leading up to the village abbey were that of lesser Hellbourne, the term itself foreign to non-sorcerers and those unversed in the eldritch rites and the occult magics. Mere imps, easily slain by the dozen by Lightsworn soldiers and their reinforcements from Fort Rose who had come here alongside the Vizier of the Ecclesiarch, Ser Kyrak de Rose, if only to evacuate what few survivors remained. Since then, most of Wintervale was now little more than a no-man’s land for the visiting Vizier of the Eye and her grisly work. Even if the waves of lesser Hellbourne from the abbey had abated, leaving an uneasy silence throughout the once prosperous settlement.

It was, as Kyrak had most aptly put it in the brief moment they had exchanged words, the calm before the storm. Silence, so deafening in the cold.

On the other hand, the identity of this so-called ‘Witch’ was still up for debate. The villagers, much to Elena's annoyance, offered little else in the way of explanation. From the way they skirted around her questions, she was sure they knew something more that the simple promise of incineration by magical fire could easily coax out from their lips, were it not for the presence of the Ecclesiarch’s forces. But still, whatever lay within the abbey, this so-called Witch, was for sure among the horrors awaiting her.

Whoever, or whatever she was.

“You have it?” Elena asked Claire as they stood side-by-side before the wall of thorns blocking off the abbey. “What Elan gave us.”

Claire nodded. She unfastened the pouch attached to her belt, taking great care as she slowly removed Elan’s gift from within its silken confines. It glowed brightly upon her hand with an emerald sheen, its ever-shifting light bearing the ancient sigil of the Keeper of the Forest, shaped in the symbol of an ancient tree far beyond men and elves. And when she placed it upon the snow before the conjured wall of thorns, it revealed in plain and bloody sight a path into the corpse-strewn gardens and the abbey that awaited at the end of the carnage ahead.

“Guess this is it, then,” Elena said with a grimace. “Off to work.”

She took a step forward, only to pause suddenly with a sharp jerk. Turning around, she looked at Claire and with both hands, unhooked the earring attached to her right ear. Shaped in the eight-sided Star of Elicia made in the divine image of the living god’s sigil, its golden gleam shone immaculately in the light of the midday sun as she pressed it upon Claire’s palm.

“I don’t wanna jinx it. But, if I don’t come back in three days, show this to Kyrak. He’ll make arrangements for ya to get back safely to the Holy See, and we’ll meet up there. A Vizier’s servant, as per the Archon’s Privilege, is granted safe passage throughout all Arcadia.”

“Don’t say such things,” Claire stated in reply. “When you’re done with… what’s in there, we’ll return home together.”

Elena cocked a brow at her servant, who gazed intensely at her.

“Hey now, don’t worry. Dead or alive, I’ll be back! It’s how things are, like…”

“I remember that… death,” Claire stated grimly. “When you were in bed, you were stirring constantly. Trembling. I feared the worst as I sat by your side.”

“Oh no,” Elena said in reply with a grin upon her lips as she eyed the worry apparent upon her servant's features. “You got it all wrong, silly. It’s actually pretty comfortable in my phylactery. The shakes were probably because…”

“Because you didn’t want to come back here, to the world of the living. I figured as much, when I saw the look in your eyes when your first awoke, back there. But, I…”

Claire paused for a moment, shivering slightly as what felt like a lump formed within her throat. She looked at her mistress, who stepped forward and placed her hands upon her shoulders, squeezing them tightly as she smiled until her servant too, smiled weakly.

“I'll miss you, Elena.”

“I used to think that way, yeah,” Elena said quietly. “But now… I don’t! You're right, but tell me, is it strange? After everything that’s happened between us, I don’t fancy going back in there, however long. It’s a lot nicer out here, no? Because, y’know… I’d miss ya too.”

Claire nodded. With a smile, she returned Elena’s golden earring back upon her elvish ear.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself in there.”

“But…”

“No. This isn’t up for debate, my love.”

“Right… uh, I… promise…” Elena said, her voice trailing off into the cold silence of the village. “Anyway, before I go in there, is there anything else you need or want?”

Claire nodded.

“Yes, actually. And it’s very important.”

“Well make it quick, because…”

Elena froze mid-sentence, quivering as the warmth of Claire’s lips pressed themselves softly against the coldness of her cheek. She could not see herself right now, but she was quite sure she was blushing harder than she ever could. Felt like it, anyway. Why else would her servant, bless her, smile at her so sweetly, and giggle to her so softly in this fleeting moment?

Truly, it was everything she feared and desired, all at once. After all, it was time to go.

“Well then,” Elena said with a big smile, as she turned upon her heel to leave for the village abbey. “I’ll see ya later.”