Excerpted from Elena’s report for the Eye of Elicia, Her Excellency Lady Nhaka Mezalune…

The Heavensward Shrine. Think that’s what they called it? Saw a whole bunch of elven corpses laid out around the courtyard. They were earless, stuck upon spikes and hanging from the trees. Couple of skins laid out as tapestries as well, dried and tanned out like leather. Bloody and grisly, smelled like it too.

Truly, it’s heaven, huh? Could’ve fooled me.

Well, your glamour worked without a hitch, my Lady. Thanks for that, by the way. Those of Orcus’s craven cultists that received us here were none the wiser. And so we went in with them, into the hallowed halls of this Heavensward Shrine. Into its darkened hallways lit with meagre torches by the walls, where more of those damned spikes and hooks awaited us with more elves upon their edges like the whole damned place was some kind of slaughterhouse.

Oh, and I saw the Star of Elicia made from flayed skin and bloodied bones. From elves, probably, given what these crazies have to work with for their arts and crafts. Looked just about as nice as you’d think it’d be.

We made it as far as what appeared to be the shrine’s prayer hall. The wooden pews were arranged all around the center, where a large altar with the Star of Elicia in all its gruesome glory stood in the middle, the pews on the outer edges surrounding it like a wooden maze. And the Star, it was adorned with bones and blood, like the altars of worship to her in the days of old from what I’ve read and seen in my studies on the wars of the past that happened while I was holed up in Eldia all those centuries ago. As I stared at it, as we got closer, I thought about the Central Church, about the very nice earrings I wear, and how these things are all made of gold and diamonds rather than elven remains. And how some of the churches to Elicia now have elven devatas, like the one in Eldia. What a scare that was!

But really, my Lady. Things in the Empire have really changed these days, huh? For better, I’d say.

As we got close to the altar in the center, more cultists gathered, boxing us in as they formed around us like a square while more of them emerged from the chambers to the side. At a glance, there were little less than a hundred of them. Mostly humans, though I did spot some goblins amongst them. And there amidst them, what must’ve qualified for clergy amongst these cravens approached us, a man dressed in filthy leather robes adorned with a necklace of dried and pointy ears.

The man, the priest, whatever he was, he was probably some kind of sorcerer. Or at least, those dried ears must’ve given him some kind of magical sensibility. Because the moment he got close to us, all the colour in his face drained, as though he had seen a ghost. He tried to shout something, probably about how we were heretics or something close to that. And as he did, I stuck out my hand, dispelling my glamour as my sigil incinerated him like a funeral pyre that burnt to ashes in a matter of seconds before his fellow cravens.

Indeed, the jig was up. But then again, it’s not a bad thing, no? I mean, that was what Iris and I wanted, asking you for the glamour in the first place. To get into the heart of this madness, draw out their leader and his ritual, and end it for good. The cultists probably caught on, because as they looked upon the charred remains of their priest, and then at the golden gleam of my earrings, the shape of my ears, they began to collectively panic, backing away towards the pews as though unsure of what to do at the sight of me and Iris. Who, by now, had shed off her glamour and brought out her Lightsphere as her sword and shield of holy light. And in keeping with our plan, I leapt, as stylishly as I could with the tail end of my hooded longcoat fluttering as I did, onto the altar. Before the gathered cultists, I kicked aside the gruesome display and laughed my most evil laugh, my hands burning hot with magical fire as I declared:

“I am Elicia! So hear me, craven bastards! Where is Orcus, he who has sinned in my holy name! He’ll show himself, or I’ll destroy my own shrine and condemn you all to hell!”

Looking back, my Lady, it was complete nonsense, what I was raving. Was mostly ad-libbed, too. Perhaps Iris should’ve done it instead. But, as you know, she’s not too fond of theatrics. In any case, my blasphemous declaration was enough to rile them up, that with their weapons at the ready, they came for us in a bid to retake their altar from the elven ‘demon-witch’ who had perverted their beloved god’s image. They had nothing fancy, aside from a burst of murderous zeal at the sight of an elf.

Yeah, they were really upset. And I have to say, ‘demon-witch’ does sound pretty cool, no? At least, now that I’ve the time to mull it over while I write this report for you. That half-dragon bastard of Izoria Vhal did call me that previously, but I didn’t appreciate it back there.

Oh, well. Shame he’s dead, huh? Nah, not really.

As the cultists rushed us, Iris guarded my flanks as my ‘sword and shield’ (her words, not mine), as I slung fireball after fireball while still up upon the large table that once held the altar (it’s a really nice position for a sorcerer!). That eventually, after thinning out their ranks considerably, as we stood bloody with the scent of burning and arcane residue thick in the air around us, what few of them backed away once more. This time, though, they retreated towards one particular side of the massive hall, far north from the way we came in. They gathered there, around the exit leading into another particular part of the shrine, trembling as they beheld us and their fallen brothers and sisters that lay bloody and broken at our feet, much like the corpses of their elven prisoners scattered all over the hall that were dead long before we came.

“Orcus!” I declared once more as I aimed the crimson and fiery light of the sigil burning upon my hands in their direction, the sight of which made of some of them stumble and fall as they backed themselves against the wall. “You’re in there, aren’t you!”

And it was with this, my Lady, that he finally showed up. Orcus. Solus de Sina. Don’t matter, really. Whatever he was or whatever he liked to call himself, I have to say, the Excommunication must’ve done a number on him. Didn’t look at all like a Vizier of the Ecclesiarch or one of the Lightsworn. Not at all. He looked like he was going to collapse under the weight of his wretched armour at any moment and save us a whole lot of busywork.

Oh, but of course, he didn’t. It’s never simple and clean like it ought to be.

“My ‘Lady’ de Escaflora. And whoever this… Lich is, this elven bitch who bears Elicia's symbol,” he said, his tone cold like my own flesh as he looked at Iris before looking at me. “You’ve all come just in time to behold my revenge. The culmination of what the Central Church couldn’t understand in their lust for vermin like you.”

“It is over,” Iris stated as she readied her Lightsphere's sword and shield. “I made a mistake all those years ago, and people have suffered because of me. But no longer.”

“That was a mistake, wasn’t it?” he shot back, all but spitting the words through his helmet. “It was, for so long. But not anymore. Not when I…”

I didn’t let the bastard finish his sentence. With my hands burning hot with my sigils, I unleashed forth the largest storm of arcane and fire magic that I could muster. And being the awesome Archon she is, Iris’s had her Lightsphere turn into a staff of pure golden light that she raised up high behind me as I unleashed my ephemeral apocalypse. That by just being around her, I felt my thoughts quicken as my sigil’s power amplified so very much in her presence.

And yeah, I know. It’s a cheap move. But as you know, my Lady, I’m honourless like that. Indeed, I do you proud every other day, interrupting bad guy monologues. Though, I was also hoping that my sudden attack would kill them all and end it quickly, considering how nicely they were bunched up there.

But, like I said, it’s never simple and clean, huh? And when the smoke from the resulting explosion cleared, we found out why as we beheld him, unscathed yet bloody.

Yeah, bloody indeed. There was blood everywhere upon the floor. Blood, that was rank with the stench of burning, that sizzled with arcane residue. Blood, that belonged to a creature of crimson and ichor-like formlessness that coalesced around his body, embracing all of him in a swirling tide of living blood that rose above and around him, taking the form of a simulacrum shaped like that of an elven woman.

Yeah, that’s something you don’t see every day, huh? And as you know, yours truly has had the dubious honour of seeing quite a few things.

“Woe betide any who stand opposed to Elicia,” he said to Iris and I as he stood in the creature’s crimson embrace. “Broken first by her lies and her tyranny, and then next by monsters like you. But like I said, no longer!”

He then revealed a truncheon set with a jewel that glowed a deep purple light, a soul gem if I’ve ever seen one. When he raised it up high, the creature of blood let out a shrill cry that shook the entirety of the hall, staggering Iris and I while it pooled itself downwards, covering the ground in a tide of crimson that enveloped the hall.

“Yes…” he declared as the once-dead cultists all over the hall came back to life, weapons in hand and bodies stained in the creature's blood while they shambled towards us from all directions like bloodied puppets. “With her by my side, we will prevail. All three of us, we’ll live together. Forever…”

Back there, I hadn’t a clue what the hell he was raving about. And as Iris and I braced ourselves for what was to come, I heard the creature of blood speak once more, its voice no longer a scream. But rather, a sorrowful cry like a whisper out loud as it surged back to the side of its wretched master and his jewelled truncheon, speaking but a single word:

“Isha…”