T H E U N H O L Y C O V E N A N T

It was early spring, in the year 883AF. Two lovers, lambs of the Bloodsworn, found themselved deep within the mangroves near the Caverns of Enheduanna when they happened upon two others enjoying a lovely walk amid the decaying vegetation. Beloved of all, High Priest Mordanyconus and his infamous companion, Zeyeran, welcomed the lovers to the bog. Pleasantries were exchanged, others joined the conversation, and within moments a small crowd gathered in the stagnant water to observe what would happen next.

Who can say why she did it. Was it the enlightening vista? Had she sipped a little too much of that bog water? Perhaps only her and the God of Oblivion will truly ever know the circumstances leading up to the moment her faith crumbled. What is known, however, is that it was there among close friends and family, in the witness of Targossian Minister Yen Jaydde-Stormcrow, Grace Serene, and her betrothed, Liena Warrick, that Layta swore Oath to Lord Babel. Standing knee-deep in those fetid waters, the gathered congregation solemnly observed the covenent between God and mortal, and in His benevolence and great pleasure, He graced her with His mark of favour.

In His Righteous humiliation, the Bloodsworn God demanded her death and cast her from the Silverveil. He is no stranger to betrayal, after all, and old wounds fester deep within those insidious bones of the Righteous Fire. What will become of our thrice spurned protagonist? Will she wander aimlessly until her eyes are fully opened? Will she find herself snagged once again in those bulging nets the Lightbringer casts recklessly about the nations in hopes of converting more lambs?

Only time will tell, friends, what precious little is left of it.


[X] Grandue Xeh'ria, Keeper of the Crown

[A small octagon encircles a raised "II" here, inscribed in thick, amethyst ink]
Penned by my hand on the 13th of Aeguary, in the year 883 AF.