Community Days #1 - Epilogue

Darkness… Night…

Calm… Peace...

The rain washes the blood into the earth, streaking crimson through the mud on the hill where the temple of Myla once stood in quiet reverence. Now, it lies desecrated—claimed by the Ilu’sar and the fanatics of Ilu’rin. The zealots lie dead, their bodies strewn like broken offerings around the ruined temple.

Crossing the threshold, you step into the vestibule, where more lifeless zealots litter the floor. Two of our heroes stand barely upright—bloodied, battered, and brushing the veil of death. The golden-clad knight’s eyes burn with a deep, unnatural red as the fallen zealots begin to stir, rising again to await his silent command. Beside him, the other hero leans heavily on their staff, the giant mushroom atop their head glowing with ethereal light. A shimmering mist unfurls around them, and slowly, their wounds begin to mend.

In the sanctuary, silence reigns—punctuated only by the soft drip of water and blood. Another body lies here. Whatever divine radiance once lit the eyes of the Wyr’rin is gone. This is Zelkor, the Ilu’wyr—bloody, lifeless, crumpled beneath the shattered remains of a pew where he once knelt in prayer.

Nearby, our third hero stands over him, bloodied fists clenched, chest heaving like a beast just spent from the hunt. And finally, the last of our heroes approaches what remains of Zelkor—a mangled mess of bone, flesh, and blood-soaked cloth. Silently, they lift his staff, eyes distant, as though already walking a path unseen by the rest.

Peace... Calm...

Night... Darkness...

Audio: https://youtube.com/shorts/p4WXw43iuts?si=kgHYltbJs0rP3gQZ