The cool air flooded into her lungs as she woke from her bed, stretching her arms while yawning deeply. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess. As her feet touched the cold stone floor, she wiggled her toes, then heaved herself free from the wool blankets and sheets. She rubbed her eyes and stretched again, extending one arm above her head as she walked into the bathroom.

After a few minutes of preparation, she groggily looked into the mirror. She let out a sigh and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"Right, time to face the world, Elizabeth," she said, forcing a smile that quickly faded into a frown. Her eyes drifted downward, and with a hitch in her throat and tension in her chest, she managed to smile again. She turned to leave the bathroom with a confident stride, leaving behind a picture of an older man, an older woman, and their happy blonde daughter. The image rested on the sink just below the mirror.

Elizabeth made her way through the empty halls to the prayer room. The darkened room was lit by candles and filled with incense. The smoke clung to everything, thick streams of purplish-blue mist rising slowly around the statue of Yvlis against the back wall. Tapestries depicting great battles and unrequited love adorned the walls. Elizabeth slowly moved to a section in the back of the room and began her morning prayer.

"O Yvlis, guide of kin and sword,

In Your light, we find our bond,

With hearts aflame and spirits strong,

We walk the path that You have drawn."

Elizabeth placed her right hand over her heart and extended her left hand slightly, palm up. She spoke confidently but with a slight quiver in her voice, as if the words were difficult to release. The other members of the abbey stood beside her in the same position. Though their voices had different inflections, they spoke in near-perfect unison, both men and women.

"In Your name, we guard our kin,

With steadfast hearts, we strike within,

With love and wrath, our souls entwined,

In Your embrace, our strength we find."

They all slowly bowed, lowering their extended hands to the ground. Tears dripped onto the stonework beneath Elizabeth as visions of her mother and father came to mind. Their smiles radiated in her memory, and she could almost hear their voices.

"Through trials fierce and shadows deep,

We rise as one, no vow we break,

With hands that heal and arms that fight,

We honor You with all our might."

Elizabeth rose to her feet, bringing both hands together in front of her chest, her slender fingers interlaced firmly. The candlelight around the prayer chamber cast long shadows that danced along the walls. A statue of a four-armed woman carrying two children and brandishing two swords in an aggressive yet protective manner stood at the front of the room. The High Priest, who led the prayer, had his back to the congregation as he continued the hymn.

"In every child, in every friend,

Your sacred fire will never end,

We stand as guardians of Your grace,

In every heart, Your light we trace."

The practitioners, including Elizabeth, raised their interlaced hands high above their heads, palms facing skyward, reaching for the heavens. Their voices blended together in a harmonious choir.

"O Yvlis, bless this holy day,

With every step, we seek Your way,

In family, love, and righteous war,

We serve You now and evermore."

Their hands slowly lowered, crossing over each other to rest their palms on opposite shoulders. The voices gradually faded as each person entered a state of solemn reflection. Elizabeth felt the tension in her chest dissipate, the hitch in her throat slowly vanishing. The scent of incense wafted into her nostrils as she took a deep breath.

Soon, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching slowly. Her eyes opened to see the High Priest nearing her, a welcoming smile on his face and kind eyes. His brown hair, graying at the sides, showed his age, though his body was lean and muscular. Father Thomas was his name, and he had been the one to greet Elizabeth when she arrived at the abbey at the start of the year. He had welcomed her with open arms and without questioning why a Paladin from the capital would arrive unannounced at a remote abbey.

"Sister Elizabeth, may I have a word?" His voice was soft and soothing. He motioned for Elizabeth to follow him into the sacristy. Bowing slightly to her, he began to head in the direction he indicated. Elizabeth took one final look at the statue of Yvlis, bowed her head, then turned to follow.

The sacristy was nothing special, at least not to Elizabeth, who had worked in the capital and in the largest of cathedrals. But it was quaint and well-kept. Vestments were stored in what looked like an expensive armoire made of dark oak, with iconography of Yvlis adorning the trim. The table in the center of the room was slightly cluttered with papers, quills, and ink vials. Father Thomas walked around the table and sat down, extending his hand in invitation for Elizabeth to be seated. That same welcoming smile and calmness radiated off him like the calming waves of the ocean.

Elizabeth moved forward and sat in the chair across from Father Thomas. She straightened her vestments, ensuring she still looked presentable. The chair was old and well-worn from the hundreds of men and women who had sought counsel in these hallowed chambers. Father Thomas leaned forward, picking up a stack of papers. The room fell silent except for the slight flicker of candles on the table between them. Elizabeth watched as the High Priest analyzed the contents of the packet before setting it down.

"Sister Elizabeth, when you arrived a year ago, I accepted you with open arms, not questioning why a Paladin from the capital would deign to visit a humble abbey such as ours." Father Thomas's eyes gazed into Elizabeth's as if seeking an answer to a question yet unasked before he continued.

"But after watching you among the others, I now have to ask: Why did you come here? You seem to isolate yourself. You go through your daily affirmations, assist with the upkeep of the abbey, but you seem so distant." His question was harsh to Elizabeth, but he delivered it with the same calm, peaceful tone he had always used since she arrived. Elizabeth gazed down at her lap, fiddling with the folds of her vestments, rolling the fabric between her index finger and thumb. She had an answer, or at least she thought she did, but she couldn't muster the courage to speak it aloud. That familiar tension in her breast began to swell, and a lump formed in her throat.

Father Thomas slid the papers toward her. "It seems you were this way in the capital as well, as written by Sister Marriot. She says you were often distant and standoffish." Elizabeth raised her eyes to the papers, seeing Sister Marriot's words. She breathed an uneven breath, trying to quell the growing tingle in her chest, but it only made it worse.

"I know you left shortly after your parents died. I understand you probably needed a change of surroundings. But we are an order based around family. Is this why you remain so distant? Because of the loss?" Elizabeth finally looked up at the High Priest, her lips slightly parted as if about to speak. Her sapphire eyes wavered, filling with tears. Memories of her time in the capital weaved through her mind.

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She had not always been like this. She was once the first to volunteer to join adventuring parties, only to be initially rejected for being under-leveled. So she studied long into the night, learning all she could about flora and fauna. She put these lessons into practice by hunting and gathering alone, honing her skills in tracking and survival, only to be rejected again for being too small. Adventurers laughed at her when she approached. So she shifted her approach to training day in and day out in the courtyard of the capital, learning techniques from the best that passed through. Still, it wasn't good enough. She recalled the one time she was accepted, but before she could join the party, she saw the way the Wizard and Rogue whispered to each other while staring at her with lecherous eyes, causing her to turn down the invitation.

After the constant judgment, jeers, and catcalls, she began to work alone, and why wouldn't she? She had been working alone all this time already. She didn't need a party to validate her abilities—her parents had already done that, so she didn't need anyone else. She began to distance herself, slowly losing interest in the adventurers who came seeking assistance for various quests or excursions. Sister Marriot soon stopped approaching her and simply observed her day by day.

Then that dark day arrived. Elizabeth had been in the courtyard, training with younger Paladins, when Sister Marriot called for her. Elizabeth smiled and walked confidently into the sacristy of the cathedral, finding it strange that Sister Marriot closed the door behind her. When the news was delivered, that tightness in her chest formed, tears cascaded from Elizabeth's eyes, but she remained silent. She internalized the pain, using every ounce of resolve to hide her feelings, and failed. Her world was shattered, her family gone in an instant. She was a Paladin sworn to a goddess of family and wrath, and she couldn't even do that properly. She should have been there; she should have defended them. Instead, her parents trusted adventurers for their defense.

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"It was after their death that you lost faith, didn't you?" Father Thomas's voice snapped Elizabeth out of her memories. The sacristy of the small abbey came back into view. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she nodded.

"So, the compulsion? Have you been fighting it alone all this time?" he continued, his face showing concern. His question was expected—part of her training was to control the compulsion of her job; left unchecked, it could go to an extreme.

"Yes, I have been, but it hasn't gotten too far, I—" Elizabeth finally managed to speak, her hands clenching at her clothes. She shook her head, trying to convince the Father.

"It is fine, my child." The High Priest interrupted her, gently lifting his hand to stop her from continuing. His face returned to one of calm understanding before continuing. "It is clear to me that your parents' passing affected you, and even before that, there were signs. So let me ask you, Elizabeth: define family."

Elizabeth's head tilted at the request. Why ask her such an easy question? It was depicted in their iconography. She felt compelled to answer, even if she thought this line of questioning served no purpose. He was in charge of the abbey, and she respected him greatly for accepting her without question.

"To find someone you can trust with your life, and who trusts you the same. Family is one bonded by blood, trust, and love," she answered honestly and earnestly, her brow furrowing as if insulted to be asked such a simple question. Father Thomas, however, simply leaned back in his chair.

"That is one definition, but may I offer another perspective?" He rose from the table and walked toward a mural painted on the wall. The image depicted a group of warriors in the throes of battle, their backs together as they fought against a horde of enemies. "Would you consider this a family?"

Elizabeth didn't stand but turned in her seat to view the image. She shook her head. It was just some party of adventurers on a quest—nothing out of the ordinary. "No, those are comrades in arms, friends," she finally responded, casually and dismissively. There was no bond there besides the hardships they were enduring.

"Ah, I see. So without hardships and struggles, how would you know you found someone you can trust?" Father Thomas spoke while lingering his gaze on the image. He slowly turned to face Elizabeth, expecting an answer.

Elizabeth sensed she had fallen into some sort of trap with her answer, as if Father Thomas had this whole conversation planned out, predicting her every response. "You would..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to find an adequate answer. "You would just know."

Father Thomas frowned as he considered her answer. "You would just know? So, would you say these people in this image trust each other? Trust that each of them has their backs?" He walked toward Elizabeth and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking down into her eyes.

"Well, yes, I suppose they do?" Elizabeth replied, unsure of the point Father Thomas was trying to make. The High Priest chuckled to himself and patted her shoulder.

"Then if they are willing to trust their very lives to each other, does that make them family?" This question shook Elizabeth to her core. She hadn't considered this. In all her studies, she recalled stories of groups banding together to quell some great evil or holding their own against insurmountable odds. But she always read them from the perspective of what needed to be done, not as a lesson in family or trust. She had no answer for him, just stunned silence.

The High Priest walked back to his chair and sat down, silently staring across at the Paladin. He finally broke the silence. "Your compulsion will only grow; it is not a matter of leveling up, but of understanding. Each job's compulsion is there to teach us something about ourselves. It steers us down a path of extremes, and without guidance, it can lead us to the wrong conclusions." He smiled before continuing. "You have leveled up so much, but you have experienced so little. It is not your fault, but you need to experience the world. This is why we accept adventurers who come seeking our Paladins or Clerics—to give them that worldly experience." He gently took one of Elizabeth's hands, his thumb brushing across her knuckles to relax her.

"So I challenge you, Elizabeth. I want you to go, experience this world, and return to me with the answer to my last question. Would you deny me this request?" Elizabeth breathed deeply; that tightness in her chest had been ever-present throughout this meeting. She rose to her feet and bowed solemnly.

"Yes, Father," she replied, head still lowered in reverence. As she raised her head, she saw those same gentle eyes that greeted her when she arrived. She knew this was not a punishment, but a guiding hand, a lesson that needed to be lived, not found in a book. Even with her limited understanding, she could tell this was for her betterment, even if she was reluctant to follow through.

"Then might I suggest the Whispering Woods as your starting point? Some folks have claimed to see a strange object fall from the sky a few days ago." His eyes never left hers, and his smile never faded. He extended a hand, motioning toward the door. Elizabeth bowed deeply before turning on her heels and heading out.

She walked through the corridors of the abbey, passing by people who gathered and gossiped, their voices quieting as she approached. Were they talking about her? She couldn't be sure; she had been an enigma to the others since her arrival, not forming any bonds other than through simple greetings and pleasantries. She gave a slight bow, not interrupting their talk, as she found a secluded section of the inner courtyard to sit and reflect on what the High Priest had told her.

He was right; she knew that much. Ever since her parents were killed, something inside her had shifted. She felt the compulsion stronger than ever to form and find a family. When her parents were alive, their existence made dealing with these subconscious urges easier. They were her family, bound by blood. Without them, there was a void, a hole deep within her soul. To her, it was a tangible missing piece that had been ripped away without warning. She sat watching the leaves of the single tree in the center of the courtyard sway in the wind.

That night, Elizabeth made her final preparations. In her solitary bedchamber, she offered a final prayer to Yvlis, and with shaky hands, she made the final adjustments to her armor. She knew in her heart this was the best choice. The High Priest was correct—she needed this, to experience the wider world and better understand her place in it. Shadows flickered across her face as she blew out the various candles around the room. She closed the door on that darkened room, unsure when she might return.