Niviene Larethian

Without

It took her a few moments to realize that the rumbling had actually come from her stomach rather than the battlegrounds just outside the confines of the tent. Niviene pressed her hand to her belly briefly, willing it to cease its grumblings before she turned to the next patient that demanded her attention.

It had been several days since she’d eaten, refusing the food that her “hosts” had provided. Being kept against her will, the priestess was never sure if the food was drugged or not. She knew that she had been much more docile upon arrival than was her nature, and the food had been the only means of which any drug could have been administered. Or at least that was her reasoning.

Niviene stood at the tent flap, peering into the shadows that enveloped the landscape, searching for a way out amongst the desolate hills, scattered corpses, and the remains of shattered siege engines. The air was choked with ash and particles she preferred not to identify, the darkness filled every corner and there was no way out. At least none that she could see.

A porter stopped and offered her a cup of water, she peered into its depths but saw only clear liquid. The glass was cool in her hand, inviting her to partake. She glanced around briefly before downing its contents, hoping that even something so minor would quell her hunger for a bit.

As always in this land, the water had a bitter taste, but it was cool and did wonders for her parched throat. She set the empty glass on the tray and took another, making quick work of it as well. It only took a few moments for her to relax, her body seeming to melt against the tension of the day. 

The water was clean, clear, like the Light. The water seemed to cleanse her worries of battle, so the Light cleansed her worries of home and family. All that mattered was the mission. All that mattered was duty. Duty to the kingdom, to freeing the king. 

Her husband could care for the children. She was needed here. Her king needed her. Nothing mattered but serving the Light, serving her king. Shaking her head, Niviene rose and turned to the next patient, drawing on the Light, drawing of her own will, to heal those who would die without her.