Role

Chapter 1

Concentric circles of decay imbued themselves into the fields of Balator the night of her
birth as if the lands themselves cried out in anguish at the act of desecration that had
just transpired. With the smell of sulphur and brimstone, the liquified remains of Sunlay
Sanqvist seeped into the sodden earth and caused a swarm of locusts to erupt from the maw
that hungrily appeared beneath the scene of this unholy birth.

Birth? It was hardly a birth at all.

Sunlay Sanqvist had just conducted one of the most vile transgressions against the land of
Thar-Eris that one could aspire to achieve. She was once a noble Priestess of the Harvest
Moon. A speaker to the spirits and queen of the ravens, she was the harbringer of death to
those who would dare to break the Cycle. Though as seasons passed and age began to wither
away her youth, she became obsessed with the finality of life and the permanence of death.

Her fears and obsessions drove her to the edges of her sanity and in the end she succumbed
to the same temptations of those she had hunted for seasons. She turned to her collection
of unholy artefacts she had taken from those she had called the wrath of nature down upon
and in the infernal tome of the dark arts she found an idea for her salvation and freedom.

But first, she would need one more blessing from her deity. A blessing she could perverse
and manipulate for her own desires. Gathering herbs of fertility she made her preparations
for the defiling of her soul and ventured forth to the fields of balator. Off to the south
she carefully stashed her unholy artefacts, knowing that if she was successful she would
need them in the days to come.

The fertile fields withered instantly at her touch as she scribed runes of death into the
lands and linked them all together with the druidic symbols of fertility and rebirth. The
affect was instantaneous. Sunlay, well into her senior years, suddenly fell to her knees
in the centre of the circle, her stomach swelling and pulsating as it rapidly grew to an
enormous size and threatened to explode. She roared and moaned, clenching her fists in two
tight balls as her fingernails split the weathered skin on her palms. Pain radiated from
her defiled uterus as she her consciousness fled her between the rapid beats of her heart.
her defiled uterus as her consciousness fled her between the rapid beats of her heart.

And before the next beat, her consciousness returned. Her spirit had found itself in the
body of her newborn child. Sunlay Sanqvist lives on.

But at what cost?