Coming up the city's center square, Alma received her daily dosage of the sight of the great, hallowed statue—the city's matron saint of madness. The people’s idol of insanity. The Goddess Macha—whose piercing eyes meticulously watched over the entire city. It was one of the most gorgeous sights in all of the country and had been there for as long as she could remember. The statue, to hear the inhabitants tell it, was so incredibly lifelike and beautiful that they say Macha herself carved it with implements from a higher plane of existence. While others claim that it’s Macha herself, having frozen herself so she could watch over the country for all eternity.

As its looming figure climbed up the horizon, Alma made a silent prayer to herself, as she did every morning when she saw it coming into view—a habitual quirk she picked up from her sister. She never actually understood the prayer's meaning, as it used words that came from one of the many old religious languages. Even so, her sister still always encouraged her to do it.

Underneath the enormous likeness of the snow-covered Goddess stood a glorious monastery sticking out amongst the city that consisted of a great many beautiful, holy buildings and high-reaching hand-shaped minarets stretching ever upward as if they were the hands of the planet, trying to embrace the splendid figure of Macha. The totality of which was an impressive monument only second to the goddess statue herself. Many small temples dedicated to Macha were scattered throughout the country but they all paled in comparison to the great structures found in the holy city. If there was one thing that stood out the most in Malachias, it was their place of worship—which also attracted many pilgrimages every week.

"Zula!" cried the eager Alma as she rushed up the steps leading to the front cathedral where pious priestesses would pray and hold their mass each morning.

At the sound of her cry, a stern looking middle-aged woman stepped out from between the cold, looming doors at the top. She wore a cross-shaped blinder over her eyes and was donned in a flowing white robe patterned with radiant gold ornamentations and a golden string wrapped around her waist. Atop her head was a curious crown with a strange sigil.

Alma visited her sister at work quite often so she never found it very difficult to find her way around the almost maze-like structure of the area. Strange, eyeless beings were carved into the relief of the architraves atop the entrance where now stood the senior priestess. Despite the seeming blindness of these carvings, Alma always felt as if they were somehow impossibly watching her every time she came to visit. A creeping feeling that she had never been able to get used to.

"Alma, welcome home. I see you’re none the worse for wear after all your Crusader training.” The priestess, who gave off an intimidating impression, smiled softly. “I take it you're here to visit your sister."

Alma bowed her head slightly and spoke respectfully.

"Yes, Psycho Superioress. Today is the day of my deployment and I was hoping to receive a familial blessing from my sister. I'm told they're the strongest ones to receive." She restlessly adjusted the thick strap digging into her shoulder while cocking her head. "Also, just to, you know, say hi."

As those words passed her lips, she heard a familiar, delicate voice coming from inside.

"The prodigal sister returns." A refined-looking young woman with endless onyx hair and ghostly pale skin stuck her head out from between the large doors. She too was wearing a blindfold, this one simpler in design. A wisp of freckles streaked across her cheeks. "Come on in. I've somewhere we can chat freely."

Alma and her sister watched from the vestibule as the prioress vanished into one of the many neighboring rectories. Zula, whose stiff shoulders had been prone to tensing in the presence of her superiors, relaxed. After taking a deep breath, she guided Alma to a table nearby. The lights were blazing, illuminating the slick, black walls inside the early morning church.

Finding a spot on the ground to place her large black case, the young soldier sat down sheepishly. Despite the many pious influences she had accumulated from her older sister, it always made her feel quite nervous to visit her on such hallowed ground.

The young priestess was staring at one of the frescoes painted on an enormous wall, depicting a group of naked humans clutching at their heads in agony while surrounding a strange, ominous being. She wordlessly echoed a prayer before letting out a wistful sigh and turned her gaze toward Alma. She lifted the blindfold up to her forehead, revealing gorgeous emerald eyes.

“Seriously, how do you guys see through those things?” asked Alma curiously, making a motion with her thumb to her eyes. The girl was obviously not an expert at making small talk.

"Would you like some hot tea?" asked Zula, ignoring her sister’s inquiry.

"No thanks. I actually came to get your blessing." Alma had been looking around the large enclosure. As incredible as the outside was, the inside was all the more remarkable. Her gaze had finally settled on her sister. "You must know what today is."

"After all the times you mention it whenever you come visit? No, Alma. Of course I don't," joked the young cleric gigglingly.

Zulema was a devout priestess of Macha, who dedicated all her days in honoring the Matron of the Maddened, all the while sharing the role of doting sibling who always prayed for the happiness and safe haven of her only baby sister. She wore a large-sleeved holy robe similar to the prioress, except that it was colored a simple black shade and lacked any noticeable embellishments. She wore a beautiful necklace made from alyssum flowers. On her head sat a small, flat coronet with a small protruding spike on each side and inscribed on its front was the image of a lone, closed eye. The headpiece had a crimson veil attached that trailed down the back of her head.

Two months had passed since she turned 23, which was only two years older than Alma, who was 21.

"Let’s see. Today’s the day you go on that important mission for Macha and the princess—and as much as I wish I could prevent you from jumping into a dangerous situation, I know we each have our calling." She let out a reluctant sigh. "I suppose if this is how you wish to show reverence to Our Lady Madness, then so must be her will."

"I'm glad you feel that way." Alma was nervously fiddling with the belt of her coat. "And, you know… about that sisterly blessing for the battlefield?"

Zulema's face betrayed a slight grimace at the word battlefield, an action seemingly unnoticed by her sister.

"I can only hope that wherever mom and dad are, they'll also be watching over me." Alma's gaze turned upwards toward the ceiling before creeping toward the miniature statue of Macha at the rear of the church.

"I'm sure our parents—who are only visiting Eldon for a few months—are very proud of you," Zulema replied sharply, unamused at Alma's flippant attitude. Her frown quickly turned into a smirk. "I figured that was the real reason you stopped by today and so I prepared a small apotropaic for you in advance."

Zulema produced a small pouch on a string from the pocket of her robe.

"It's been stuffed with holy holly leaves and soaked in chrism oil that’s been sanctified in the blood of a wailing sparrow. I then prayed over it each day for seven minutes and seven seconds for seven days." Zulema gently placed the charm in Alma's hand. "You think I wouldn’t prepare such a thing in advance knowing what was coming? Just remember, it is the strongest prayer I can offer you and I hope it sees you well."

Alma was surprised at the hard work her sister had put into ensuring her safety. She had been expecting maybe a small prayer and a sprinkling of holy water but she could actually feel a sort of power radiating from the small charm. It felt a bit excessive but her sister was nothing if not protective. Regardless, she was grateful for everything her Zula had done for her. Alma hated being a burden on her older sibling, but deep down she knew Zulema's boundless affection wasn't simply limited to the Goddess. She was the kindest soul she had ever known and that affection made their sisterly bond very powerful.

"Thanks so much, Zula.” Alma embraced her sister.

“I'll be thinking of you when I'm out popping heads for the glory of Macha," She grinned while making a gun firing gesture with her hand.

"Yes…" the young priestess spoke with a dryness in her throat. "For the glory of Macha."

Zulema forced a smile as she repeated the mantra solemnly.

Alma made her way to the city gates, continuously readjusting the strap of her weapon case every few minutes. Once she arrived at the frosted gatehouse, she decided to make a bit of small talk with an indistinctive young guard stationed there. A dainty fellow who secretly carried a torch for young Alma. They had first met a few years ago during one of the yearly festivals honoring the sightless sisters, D'rrota and D'mona, Macha's many-armed handmaidens that do the bidding of their keeper. Some say the festivals are meant to keep them appeased lest they begin consuming the will and sanity of her priestesses—A bit of a double-edged sword for Macha's vehement devout, Zulema included.

The guardsman had first met Alma during one such festival, all alone in the outer fields, diligently crouched between tall stalks of grass and grasping an old hunting rifle while occasionally peering through a personal pair of binoculars. When questioned as to the purpose of her activity, she claimed to be hunting "sidhe". Then when asked who "she" was, the girl proceeded to go on a passionate, long-winded rant about the strange creatures she often dreamed of who dwelled under the snow-covered hills and lived trite little lives during the day, and scurry high into the treetops trees at night where they would make malicious plans to steal into town and switch their young with the babies of humans, accompanied by the sad realization that the parents never learn of the deed. Despite her enthusiastic ravings, the man was so completely enamored with Alma's whimsical nature that he decided to stay on with her for the rest of the day trying to hunt down the supposed fantasy. There were moments when he would catch her glaring at something far off into the distance, similar to a small gatin whose sharp eyes had been tracking a winged insect that had flown in through the window, but no matter how hard he tried following her line of sight, he never could tell what it was she had been eyeing.

Now they were speaking of Alma's first day on assignment and exchanging notes on the kinds of animals one would see once they went outside. Alma hadn't done much traveling outside the city in a long time, only to go on the occasional hunt.

There were no paved roads anywhere outside the gatehouse so the majority of folk had to resort to other modes of transportation like the thundering velorail or take to the air by skycarrier. Unfortunately for Alma, there were no vehicles that ran in the direction of her destination so she found herself grudgingly traipsing through the frozen forests of her homeland.