I didn't quite know what the afterlife would hold for me. I was neither a brave warrior nor a master of the hunt. The books suggest that I would go to the Dreamsleeve, perhaps getting another chance at life, but with my way of death, I knew those chances were slim. My hopes were that I would return to High Rock and visit my beloved grandmother again, or float into the sky and become a cloud. I doubted that I would ever see Uriel or Renault ever again, though, for they were much more honorable than me.

My senses slowly began to materialize. Perhaps the Gods wanted to punish me for my sins by keeping my wounds intact, for I felt them intensely. It was terribly dark and the air was thin, which made me worry that I was traveling to a realm of eternal punishment. The smell of blood reinforced this. Trying to be optimistic, I hypothesized that I was between worlds, my spirit traveling to somewhere more beautiful than this. But, I wasn't moving, I didn't think. I was sitting still.

A faint glow was before me, making me wonder where, exactly, I was. A face was in the distance, or was it near? Far away? Approaching? Was it a god, a spirit, or just another human like me? I was clearly sitting somewhere. As time passed, I noticed I was sitting against a wall. Gods, could it be?

Alive. I hadn't the slightest idea how or why, but I was alive. The world was a surreal and unrecognizable place, but I knew well it was mine. With the glowing fading temporarily, I saw that it was Martin before me. Either I wished I was dead, or I was forever elated to be alive; it was impossible to tell. Attempting to speak, all that could escape me was a groan. My eyes opening fully, he, slightly out of breath, gasped, "Please tell me you're still sentient."

"Sentient?" I asked, slightly dazed, "What else would I be?"

"Undead," he replied. An eerie silence rose. "I have so many questions. But… now's not the time."

Whatever healing spell he was using, it was more localized than what I was used to seeing. I expected no less from a chapel priest, but I was still quite impressed with the level of skill he possessed. He had closed the slit in my throat before I resurfaced, which was something I couldn't do, even if I exhausted my resources.

"Do tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable, but I don't advise you leave these wounds unattended. I needn't say why."

So calm, so professional. It was obvious that he has done this a million times before, likely recently during the siege at Kvatch. It wasn't until recently I realized just how deep the gashes were, yet he just moved through them… systematically, like I would wash linens. Sweet relief graced me as he closed the wounds, one by one. Though I hated myself for it, I was deeply enjoying the closeness to him. The warmth from his robes had nothing on this. Feeling him gently roll back my sleeves, even he cringed slightly upon revealing my forearms.

"So many questions," he mumbled as he continued. A bit of unease grew as I wondered if he would tell others, if others knew, and what they would do after my complete lapse to sanity. I would hate to lose my job here. No longer did I worry about his opinion of me, though. It was clear that he finally knew me as I was, a madwoman. I had no hope with him to begin with, but I had less than that after he found me in a pool of my own blood. Even if everything was lost and I was as good as dismissed from the temple, at least the pain was going away. At least I could enjoy his closeness, which felt more divine than I was willing to admit.

"I must emphasize this once more. Please stop me if I'm making you uncomfortable." His eyes met mine. At first I had no idea what he was talking about, or why he'd even ask, but then it became clear… my legs. Of course I wasn't going to stop him. As noble as he was sounding, I wondered in the back of the mind if the nobility was just a sinister way to gain my trust. The ones on my legs were the worst, or at least they felt the worst. Contrary to my wishes, he didn't lift my skirt. As much as he could, he even avoided touching my thigh. Damn him. Even in my bloodless stupor I wanted him, more and more desperately by the second. I was beginning to become disgusted with myself, wanting to be defiled by the priest who healed me. A sigh of relief escaped me as the pain was finally gone. I thanked him for his time; even for a healer, that couldn't have been easy.

The mess. I didn't realized I had that much blood in my body. As the strength slowly returned, so did my sense of smell… it was awful. The stone was going to be stained permanently. Shaking my head, I knew that it was already too late to remove the stains completely, but with the help of the improvised surfactant I made, that might change…

Standing up was a little more difficult than I'd hoped. Martin chuckled, asking me exactly what I intended on doing. He tried not to laugh more when I told him that I had a mess to clean. When realizing that I was actually being serious, he offered to retrieve my mixture, gently suggesting that I change into a different dress in his absence. His calm almost disturbed me.

It wasn't long before the stone was cleared. I only hoped that this was the last time that I had to clean up my own blood. Turning to Martin, I bowed and thanked him, expecting that he would want to return to bed after practically reconstructing my body. However, he mentioned having some questions to ask…

"Now that's dealt with, I wanted to ask… what drove you to this?"

There wasn't much less he could think of me. I decided that being elusive wouldn't benefit me, so I told him the truth, "I have visions, intense ones, that bring me much discomfort. Intense pain seems to keep them at bay. Tonight, they didn't."

It was difficult to describe his expression. Whatever it was, it wasn't even close to the one I was expecting. There was no disgust, no judgment, not even disappointment. Perhaps others had come to his chapel with similar problems, perhaps that was why he seemed so adjusted. He probably spent his entire life hearing the complaints of the depressed, the ailing, and the possessed. The makings of a fine emperor were within him, for sure.

"Visions?" he asked, likely not expecting an answer, "I, myself, have been cursed with many a sleepless night due to these, brutally reminding me of what I would love to forget. I know how real they are, all too well." He continued shortly afterward. "So, you did not intend to take your own life?"

"I…I'm not sure. At first, definitely not, I just wanted the visions to cease. As time passed, the battle seemed more hopeless, and I become more and more desperate to make it stop. Other than that, I don't remember," I responded, the flatness disappearing from my voice. Much quieter, I added, "I really don't want to be alone right now."