"What's this shithole called again?" Murphy snorted and spat his phlegm by the roadside.

"It's not a shithole, it's a farming village. It's called Murkwater" Taryn replied.

"Then why the fuck are they sending a whole patrol to collect some fuckin' taxes from farmers?"

"Mind your tongue, boy. I'll not be subject to your vulgarity!" snapped Father Gershom. "You may be used to such foul language in your barracks, but you will speak with dignity and respect in the presence of a Priest of Aleria, or not at all. Is that clear?"

"Pfft, yes, Father" Murphy groaned, putting sarcastic emphasis on the elderly magister's title.

"As for our purpose, all you need to know is that taxes have not been paid for three moons, and the council thought it better to be safe than sorry. It wouldn’t be uncommon for brigands to have taken the town. Brigands, or something worse."

"I understand sending foot soldiers for brigands, but why the fu-... why would they send a Priest and Cleric to deal with brigands?"

"Or something worse..." Gershom repeated.

As the patrol emerged from the woods, Murkwater could be seen in the distance. The town seemed to be intact, which was a good sign. Raiders would typically torch towns to the ground if their demands weren't met. One of the more common reasons that settlements stop paying taxes.

Taryn felt uneasy. She had volunteered for the mission because her sister Alva lived in Murkwater. Taryn and Alva had always been close, but the responsibilities of adulthood had driven a wedge between them. Alva had fallen in love and left Redhaven to live in the countryside with her sweetheart, and Taryn had taken the Alerian oath, hoping that the Goddess of Protection and Mercy would guide her to those who needed help the most. She had never thought that Aleria would guide her back to her sister. At least, not in these circumstances.

As the patrol entered the heart of the town, the local inn serving as a landmark and the bridge leading to the northern part of the village looming over the river, the air was heavy with palpable tension. Despite it being the peak of daylight, not a single person was in sight.

"Soldier!" Gershom barked, brandishing his staff towards Murphy, who was leaning against his pike with a casual stance. "Inspect the buildings! Now!" The urgency in Gershom's voice ratcheted up the tension, filling the air with a sense of unease.

Murphy shifted his weight back to his feet and casually sauntered to the door of the inn. As he pushed the door open, a foul breeze was released from within, causing Murphy to stumble backward, gagging and gasping for air.

Gershom signaled to two more soldiers to investigate the building while Murphy regained his composure. The soldiers covered the faces and stepped inside, lit torches illuminating the grotesque scene within.

Bodies littered the floor, their golden blisters shining in the flickering torchlight. As the men stepped inside, the floorboards creaked, prompting the closest villagers to turn to them with cloudy eyes and begin to rise.

Taryn's heart was heavy as she watched the soldiers back away from the shambling villagers, the pleading of the nearest villager echoing in her mind. "Please... Help... Need... Water..."

Gershom raised his staff high and commanded the situation. "Halt!" Dust swirled around him in a circle as his robes fluttered. To the soldiers’ amazement, the villager's advance was unnaturally halted mid-stride, as if being restrained by an unseen force.

"What manner of affliction has taken you? Speak, and Aleria may see fit to show mercy!" he barked.

"Water... please..." the villager's plea was barely a whisper.

"Father, we must help them!" Taryn pleaded, her conscience tearing her apart.

Gershom shot her a fiery glance. "Help the men round them up. Check all the buildings. Bring them all here."

The soldiers carefully approached the villagers, weapons at the ready. The shambling figures writhed in distress, arms flailing desperately in search of salvation.

As the soldiers herded the villagers out of the buildings of Murkwater, the scene was one of eerie calm, the sounds of nature punctuated by hushed pleas that would go unanswered.

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Taryn couldn't help but feel that something was off, that they were missing something important. She glanced at Gershom, who continued to hold his staff at the ready, knuckles turning white.

As the last of the villagers were shepherded into the center of town, the calm was shattered by a blood-curdling scream. Soldiers raised their weapons as several villagers broke free from the group and lunged at Murphy, and other nearby soldiers. Gershom tapped his staff on the ground, once again restraining the villagers’ movement, before twisting the staff in an exaggerated motion, and forcing the screaming villagers to the ground. Taryn rushed over, to make sure no one was hurt, and her heart broke.

Kneeling in the dirt was her sister, Alva. Eyes filled with fury, and body marred by blisters, she continued to grunt and snarl at Murphy, who was on the ground cowering in fear.

"Alva... no..." whispered Taryn.

"You know this one?" Gershom inquired.

"Yes… my… my sister. The one I told you about."

"Oh child..." Gershom's fierce exterior wavered briefly, revealing a glimpse of the kind man that had been a mentor to Taryn during her time in the Alerian order. His cold, duty-hardened exterior returned, as he turned his head to face Alva. "I'm afraid there isn't anything we can do now."

"No! We have to help them! We can't just leave them!"

"You think so little of me? I would not leave them to suffer. They will go to their gods on this day."

"What? We can't kill them. Aleria is the Goddess of Protection, we have to save them!"

"She is also the Goddess of Mercy... Look at your sister, and tell me - what could be a greater mercy than releasing her from this suffering?” Gershom responded carefully, knowing the impact his words would have.

Taryn sobbed quietly as she looked at Alva - feral, and dirty; blind, and diseased.

"This isn't the life she wanted..."

"Seldom do we get the lives we want, Taryn... you know that."

"I know... Father... I know."

After a brief moment, recognizing that there was no other choice, Gershom raised his staff again, compelling Alva and the rest of the breakaway villagers to rise in kind. With a gentle motion, he willed the villagers back into the larger group, their tattered shoes scraping along the dirt road. Once they had rejoined the larger group, Gershom gestured again, binding all the villagers in place to avoid a repeat incident. With the villagers now securely rounded up, Gershom closed his eyes, and tilted his head to the sky, his lidded eyes rapidly darting back and forth as he communed with Aleria.

Taryn approached Alva, tears rolling down her face. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I left you."

In barely a moment, Gershom had his answer. "There is nothing to be done. This is a blight of a darker nature than we can cure. The work of a Dark God."

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably and moved away from the assembled mass of villagers.

"The best we can do for them now is ensure their souls reach their chosen gods, rather than the foul clutches of Evil."

Between his statements, the silence was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional plea for water.

“Men, take them inside!” Gershom commanded, signaling the soldiers to take the villagers back into the inn one by one.

Murphy placed his hand on Alva’s back and prodded her. She grunted and shambled forward. Taryn watched, tears streaming down her face as her sister, Alva, was taken inside.

"What do we do now, Father?" Taryn asked, turning to Gershom. "The only thing we can," he replied as he signaled for the soldiers to set fire to the inn. Taryn screamed in despair, but Gershom's words echoed in her mind, reminding her of her place.

As the fires began to consume the thatched roof, Gershom called upon his power once more “Lady of Mercy, let them not suffer!” he cried, beseeching Aleria.

For a brief moment, only the sound of crackling fire could be heard. Then the screaming started. Gershom’s face flinched at the cries, but his hands remained aloft. The soldiers looked from the fire to Gershom, and back again, unsure of whether his blessing had failed. Gershom’s face was a stone visage as he waited anxiously for the flames to consume all traces of corruption.

Gershom found Taryn sitting on a nearby bench when the fire had subsided. “It is done, child.”

She shot him a furious glance. “That was not mercy, Father.”

“Alas, sometimes the influence of the Dark Gods has spread too far… we did what we could… what matters now is that their souls are at rest.”

Taryn was skeptical. She had joined the Alerian order to help people, not to burn villagers. Why would the gods let such suffering happen if they were truly all-powerful?

“Yes, Father… of course,” she said, turning her eyes downward. She knew arguing would not do her any good.

“Men!” Gershom declared as he turned to the assembly of soldiers. “You have done God’s work on this day, and have saved this town from a dark fate. Aleria be praised!”

The soldiers grumbled unenthusiastically in response.

“Let us return to Redhaven.”

As the patrol walked to the border of the town, Taryn turned back to look at the smoldering remains of the inn, harrowing screams now silent.

"Tell me, Taryn. Your sister, Alva... who did she pay homage to?" Gershom inquired.

"Almek... Lady of Nature," Taryn replied, stone-faced.

"She is in good hands, then. Almek will heal the land, in time. Your sister's soul will be part of the cycle, forever entwined with the land she loved."

Taryn forced a small smile, but the pain of losing Alva was too much to bear. Alva didn't love this land; she loved the people. Murkwater was a miserable place, and Alva had always dreamed of moving somewhere less... damp. Taryn couldn't help but wonder if Almek would let Alva rest somewhere nicer, somewhere she could truly be at peace.

"Yes Father, I hope so," Taryn said, her voice wavering. Despite Gershom's reassurances, she couldn't shake the feeling that Alva's soul was lost, wandering in an unfamiliar world. She would miss her sister terribly, but at least the corruption that plagued the villagers was gone, and the land could heal. The thought brought Taryn little comfort, as she wondered if she'd ever see Alva again.