Despair spread like a plague within Fog Town's barrier.
From the corners of the square came the wounded's muffled cries of pain.
Amid that suffocating atmosphere, a tall, voluptuous figure moved lightly among the wounded.
She was an exceptionally striking woman.
She wore a slightly tattered nun's robe, her long, gently curled burgundy hair pinned loosely behind her head. A few strands clung to her pale, slender, swanlike neck, lending her the languid sophistication of a mature older woman.
She was Ilyena, a sister of the Weeping Divine Hall, and the last cherished dream in the hearts of many young people in this despairing town.
"Lady Ilyena... am I going to lose my leg?"
A young town guard lay in a pool of blood, staring at his right leg, mangled by a Mutant's bite, his eyes filled with despair.
"Shh, don't be silly, sweet child."
Ilyena crouched down and reached out with her pale, soft hands, gently stroking the young guard's forehead, slick with cold sweat.
Her voice was tender enough to melt hearts, and her beautiful amber eyes brimmed with compassion and reassurance:
"The Holy Mother's tears will wash away all suffering."
"Close your eyes and get some sleep. Everything will be better when you wake up."
Soothed by that extraordinarily gentle voice, the young guard finally relaxed his taut nerves. With a trace of gratitude toward the woman he adored, he slipped into unconsciousness.
Once the guard had passed out completely, Ilyena rose in one fluid motion, though her face had been full of sacred compassion just a second before.
She took out a white handkerchief and slowly wiped the black blood from her slender fingers, turning to look at the Cultists outside the barrier, who were roaring madly and battering the gates.
An utterly captivating yet spine-chilling