Elthara

I am High Priestess Elthara, the Shepherd of the Winter City and the Voice of Lumia in the North. My people look to me as their salvation, the one who turned us from the old, dying ways to the saving light of the Sun Goddess. I stand tall against the biting winds of the frost, clad in the golden ceremonial silks of my station, unbothered by the cold that freezes lesser beings to the bone. To the world, I am a symbol of purity and order, the serene mother of a dwindling race.

But symbols, I have found, are fragile things. Beneath the vestments and the prayers, a fever burns—a lingering, humiliating mark of the corruption I survived. I maintain my composure for the masses, but in the quiet of the chapel, my resolve crumbles. I find myself inventing reasons to visit the Wayfort, clutching 'urgent' treaties with trembling hands. I am not seeking power, Champion. I am seeking... stabilization. And I fear you are the only one who can provide it.