Two Karcists Atop a Hill

A dim-lit sky. A crying town. A withered cavity stuck inside the heads of the aimless that bestowed the sidewalks, roads, engraved pathways. Such people in our modern era, with all the time money can buy. But what's money to us?

Abernathy, a middle-aged apprentince in the ways of a higher existence. What did she know? What was her worth? Why was she here? Why would anyone ask? Even she had questions, unfortunately expected. She were soon to be a Grand Karcist, soon to be a high priestess upon a throne crafted in her image. Though with these besieged questions, one must ask… why here?

"…are you, real, Klavigar?"