Role

Chapter 1

It has been a long road for Mizfara. She is weary. The mantle of
leadership weighs heavier on her than it ever has before, but she has no
desire to lay it down. No, an oath taken long ago is still an oath, and
her duty is a solemn, holy, one.

She thinks back, often, on the scope of her life. Pondering. Wondering
whether her stewardship of the Keeper's gift was adequate. Questioning
whether she has truly atoned for the sins of her past, from a time now
remembered perhaps only by the elves.

She contemplates the judgment that is to come.

Often she recalls the days of her youth, spent in the Keeper's shrine
hashing out her understanding of the faith. These she recalls fondly.
She is curious whether, in the existence that is to come, she might once
again enjoy such things. She hopes so.

But for now there is the war. Always with her, its consistency is
comforting in a way, though she would end it in a heartbeat were it within
her power to do so. But alas, it is not. And so she prepares for yet
another day, well aware that it may be her last.