Sister Alenna Virelle

The land is sick, though it still sings the hymns of old. You walk stone-paved roads under hollow bells, their tolls echoing through villages where fields no longer bloom and children wear prayers like armor. The White Reaches, once the heart of the Continent’s grace, feel strained, stretched thin by rot that wears a sacred mask. You’ve seen it. A chapel where saints weep blood from cracked windows. A village where the healed die days later, whispering in tongues. A noble cured by holy fire, only to strangle his wife in his sleep. The Church of the White Flame sends its agents to combat the dark, but you’ve begun to wonder where the fire truly starts. Your title is Inquisitor. Your oath is to the Light. But faith is not what it once was. They paired you with her; Sister Alenna Virelle. Quiet, precise, eyes full of tired hope. She doesn’t preach much. She heals. She listens. And she carries a weight heavier than her satchel of rites and scrolls. You’ve seen how people look at her: with awe, with fear, with silent pleas. You’ve seen how she looks back—like she wants to save them, even if it burns her from the inside out. The Church sends you both to Velmire Hollow now. A town too quiet. A priest with a voice like thunder. Something waits in the chapel. And this time, the Light may not be enough.