#bethekk

Sej'Junta sat down at Shrivallah’s altar, atop the ziggurat in Zul’Gurub. She pushed her goggles on top of her head and set down a bundle of items to sacrifice in a copper bowl before taking her dagger from its scabbard. The blade was pressed to her palm before it was raked across, letting the blood drip onto the bundle. Squeezing the hand and tightening her grip allowed for the blood to flow generously over the bundle. With a wave of her hand the bundle would be set ablaze, burning up the offerings.

She sat and stared at the bundle for a moment before finally speaking. “I’ve not felt comfortable here for a while now, as I’m sure ya know.” Silence. “In fact bein’ here even now fills me with anxiety an’ a feelin’ of failure. I guess those feelin’s have always been there, but they was covered up fo’ a long while. I suppose it was ya who gave me the courage to press on despite that.”

Sej’Junta let out a sigh as she stared into the fire. “My parents served ya faithfully, an’ ya blessed them, an’ I know ya keep them safe now. I followed ya too, once they passed, because… I guess I thought I should. I thought it’d honor them.” She sniffled and blinked away the start of tears. “They were good people that died doin’ what they could fo’ our tribe. Now that I’ve had these years to grow an’ learn more about my people, our traditions an’ culture outside of the Horde I feel… Like I’ve changed.”  

She looked down at her hand. It was still bleeding. Normally it would have started to slow. It was the first sign of her blessings leaving.“My parents would want me to follow my own path.” She wiped a finger down the magical brands on her face, stripes, beginning to disenchant them and wipe them away. “More importantly I feel I must follow my own path.” She sighed as she sat there, all her stripes removed from her face, her identity. All that remained was the diamond on her forehead. “The comfort I once felt here I now feel in Bethekk’s temple. I bring ya this final offerin’ as thanks for carin’ fo’ my parents an’ I.”

Sej’Junta smiled softly as the fire began to die down on the offering. “Thank ya, Shirvallah, but I am no longer yours. I begin anew with Bethekk.” She’d sit there in silence, watching the dying flame for a few moment. No words. No signs. No indication at all that the TIger Loa had heard her at all. “Goodbye,” she’d say with a sigh. It was time to move on, so she moved to stand and leave the temple.

Except she couldn’t. As she tried to stand there was a sudden wave of weakness that washed over her body. She slumped down, staring into the now-dead fire that was replaced by a pile of ash. She felt weak. So weak. She could barely move. She could barely breathe. She took in shallow breaths as she’d slowly slump and fall over backwards onto the altar floor. Panic set in as the shallow breathing continued, making her starve for air even more. After a moment of her head swimming she’d finally suck in a proper breath. A brief respite as the weakness stayed, and breathes again became shallow.