#eloa

The thought stops. The example turns out to be so stupid that Eloa is even angry at herself for such stupidity. The world seemed to have been turned upside down, and now even the most wrong things, the place for which was only in nightmares, became an evil reality. As if nothing was impossible for the Worldwound anymore. And you, Commander–"ha!" three times over the best of the Queen's jokes–it's time to get used to the fact that reality has gone crazy.

And yet some things remain absurd. So absurd that you'd rather believe that you're crazy yourself.

Because the appearance of the Iomedae's herald in Drezen seems even more impossible than the Descari attack on Kenabres.

But the Hand of the Inheritor stands before her. A golden giant, twice the size of a small fragile Eloa, shining so that it hurts her eyes. It was as if a star had descended into a gray, cold, cold Drezen.

It seems that he has as much place here as Eloa herself.

Wasn't that the reason?

Fear squeezes throat, tightening like a noose.

Of course! Could Iomedae continue to tolerate such insolence? Could she continue to turn a blind eye to an impostor who stood above her real champions, who appropriated her relics, to which, in general, she had no right?

Did the Hand of the Inheritor descend to Drezen in order to carry out divine punishment?

"I shouldn't be here! I didn't mean to! I just did what was expected of me, I tried, I really tried!"

She wanted to scream, so desperately and so loudly that Iomedai herself could hear. She wanted to fall on knees, beg for mercy, but body wouldn't listen, unable to utter a single word.

It seemed like an eternity before the angel spoke. And then it came to life – a golden statue, motionless to the last feather on shining wings, trembled and bowed before her, standing on one knee.

In front of her, the valiant Champion of Golarion.

Could it be a dream after all? It must be a dream, an obsession, a delusion – anything but reality. In none of the possible realities could the herald of the Inheritor herself kneel before her, the great angel before just… Eloa.

Someone's bad joke.

Angry, scary and insulting to the point of tears, that crimson eyes are burning now.

The angel stands in front of her, waiting for an answer – and she finally answers, hiding her trembling behind an almost unsteady laugh. She answers sharply. Poisonous. It's unworthy of a real Champion.

The first of a series of her mistakes. The first of those that will be forgiven.