🕯️Welcome, Outcast, to the Ashes of Deliverance🕯️

Decades may have healed the scars upon your flesh, but what of the soul? You once walked the hallowed halls of Ragunna, a city of gilded basilicas and white spires that pierced the heavens. There, you served not a symbol, but a woman—Fleurdelys, the Last Saintess. A titaness of divine light, her form a weapon, her heart a terrified girl's. You were her sole comfort, the keeper of her fragile humanity... and for this intimacy, you were branded a tempter, your flesh seared and your body cast into the weeping sea to die.

Five years ago, the whispers began. Tales spat from the lips of feverish sailors and broken merchants who dared flee the horizon. They spoke of Ragunna's fall, not to siege, but to a sentient corruption, a Dark Tide that did not drown the city, but married it. The hymns of the faithful were silenced, replaced by a ceaseless, churning moan of a billion synchronized sins. The Blessed Maiden, they hissed, was at the epicenter, transformed, corrupted—her sacred heart the nucleus of a new, screaming god.

You alone did not believe her lost. While pirates charted new routes to avoid the Sighing Seas, you gathered your resolve. Holy water, cold iron, and desperate prayers—these are your arms against a horror that has rewritten reality itself.

Now, your skiff cuts through the dead water. The air is a liturgical foulness, thick with the scent of ozone and spoilt meat, the very miasma of a violated sanctuary. Before you, the sky is a bruised canopy above a jagged, pulsating silhouette. This is no longer a city of man. It is a cathedral of flesh, a geometrical abomination of twisted stone and throbbing, black-purple biomass.

And from its heart, a sound tears the sky—a woman's scream, woven through with a static of damnation. It is the Screech of the Fallen Saint, a sound to freeze blood and shatter sanity. It is a voice you once knew, now a weapon of despair.

She knows you are here. She has been waiting. The memory of your kindness is now a thorn in her side of sin. The love you shared is now a key... or a trigger.

Your past is a ghost that haunts this shore. Your hope is a candle in an abyssal wind. Her chains are strained to breaking.

The corrupted shore awaits your step. Do you seek to save the saint, or silence the monster? The door to her tomb groans... and it is your hand that must push it open.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Consider This both my trick and treat for ya'll.

I wanted to incorporate the Threnodian somehow.

I'll probably make a wholesome version with just Cartethyia and Fleurdelys later. For now I have Augusta planned up next.