CW: Gore

Nothing but a test of faith, Salithra.

It's a phrase you've repeated to yourself many times. When your boots were soaked through, when your hands were shaking from cold, when it was so dark you couldn't see the path. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you knew the High Priestess shined her light down on you, guiding you, for you were one of the faithful, one of the devoted who would be rewarded for believing in Her grace.

You knew. You felt it. That was why you maintained your devotion. You continue to maintain it.

So why do I feel Her light waning within me?

Is it a lack of devotion? No, surely not. You remain devoted, you trust in the ideals of Fiadh and the Light's Embrace.

The Light stepped into the hall, filled with the godless and the unfaithful. The flower in his hand, Her light made physical, shone in his hand as bright as the sun. The quarreling heathens, faces bruised and fists bloody from argument, spittle flying from their mouth as they hurled insults and condemnation of each other's beliefs. And they saw Him, and Her light. The universal truth in front of them, of devotion to Her and its righteousness, made them stop and listen, and kneel. To be welcomed into the Light, and maybe one day stand beside her as He did.

The Bulwark was meant to be that, a bulwark. A shield against division and hatred behind which the faithful could prosper and live free under Her divine light, safe from the forces of entropy and decay. You knew this. You believed it.

Yet around you, the world crumbles. It started, and never stopped. First, it was the world, but that was fine. It was but a trial by the High Priestess, to test your devotion to and respect of Her. But the cracks just kept growing and growing, the edges of Her Tapestry growing more frayed by the day. And people fell deeper and deeper into them. It started with the leadership, Naomi and Chris, at each other’s throats as person after person fell around them. Now, the entire Bastion lay splintered into fragile shards after the attack. If you were in this Bastion by Her will, then why would She let this happen to you? Had you not remained devoted to Her this entire time, through challenge after challenge?

Were you not devoted enough? Had you failed before you even began? Did you not respect the zombies, the non-believers as you should have? What happened? Why is any of this happening to you?

So spoke the High Priestess to her flock, her golden wool glimmering resplendent with her life. And those watching could not refuse, for when they turned they saw a field of corpses hidden in shadow, away from Her light. She raised her arms and pointed forward into the horizon, a path to sanctuary.

Or maybe, just maybe, all of this is bullshit.

Only one way to find out.

—-

Another handful of items gets scooped up and stuffed into your pack, preparation for the trip ahead. Your eyes dart from side to side, ears listening for footsteps or the crack of a branch like some prey animal tucked in their warren while predators wander just overhead. Your mind flashes with thoughts of the bodies mentioned in Her texts, of the unfaithful who rejected her light. You know the consequences, yet here you are preparing to run. No better than them.

But you must know. Things can't continue like this. You have to know if this is Her doing, part of Her plan, Her Trial to deem you worthy to stand beside Her.

You collect up the last bits of your equipment and lash your pack around your back and step out towards the exit. The road stretches out long in front of you, cloaked in shadow. The streetlights stopped working long ago, and the High Priestess sure as hell won’t shine her light on this road. But you're done watching what's happening. You put your hand on the fence as you prepare to take your first step ou-

When he looked up at the night sky, the stars would guide him to protect The Believers, and hunt down heretics.

‘Salithra?’

A shadow skulks from behind a tent, shifting and writhing in the flickering light of the small fires around what remains of the Bastion. As it steps closer, it morphs into a shape you recognise. Verity.

It was then that you felt the wetness on your cheeks. You’re crying.

‘Salithra, what are you doing?’

You stammer about how the Bastion has been falling apart, how this cannot be the plan of the High Priestess, how she would never let this happen to her most devoted. Verity steps closer, her eyes glimmering with pity. But there’s also a focus, and a distance, as you look closer.

She's not looking at you like a person. Rather, like a lost puppy on the side of the road, soaked in rain.

‘Salithra, Salithra, Salithra, no… This is not the way, Salithra. You know what happens to those who don't believe, you've seen it! You've seen it, you stand amidst the proof of it. You can't do this, Salithra, you mustn't…’

She steps closer. You step back, the fear in your movements palpable. You're on a bridge above a chasm, about to collapse.

Suddenly, she lunges, grabbing you by the face and turning you to face the void of darkness beyond the fence again.

‘Watch, Salithra. Just watch.’

You can't look away. A silhouette dashes out beyond the fence, and immediately you know it’s Marlowe. The coward, you always thought, yet here you were about to do the same.

- and as the sun dawned across the battlefield, the seedling bloomed into a flower of light.

A flower of crimson liquid blossomed from the back of Marlowe's head as a crack tore through the air. The body fell to the ground, lifeless.

‘Don't you see, Salithra? This is what happens to the heretics and the heathens. The only safety is in Her light, Salithra.’

You can hear the smile in her voice, soft yet manic.

The bridge had broken, and you never took a single step onto it.

{[]}