Eight Intertwined

184 - Wispermill

Wispermill felt wrong. 

Ophilia shouldn't have expected anything else. She had come to know a lot about the strange little Flatlands town in the last day, and it only added to the unfortunate knowledge she had accumulated during her first visit. When the travelers were in the area before their battle with Steorra, Ophilia had been struck immediately by how strange Wispermill was. She felt as if she had been punched by the unease in the air, and she knew the rest of the travelers felt the same way. Wispermill was sickening in a way none of them knew how to describe. They had seen their fair share of strange towns over the course of their travels, but nothing seemed to quite compare to Wispermill. 

Back when Ophilia first got to Wispermill, she had felt sick for a wide variety of reasons. It was as if her very body was rejecting the idea of being in Wispermill, and she had gladly thrown herself into the battle against Steorra for the sake of finding a distraction. After the shrine fight, Ophilia had set her thoughts on Wispermill aside, gladly thinking of everything else happening around her rather than losing sleep over the strange farming town. Wispermill was little more than a memory she didn't care to interrogate in those days. 

But this time, Ophilia didn't feel anywhere near as sick as she had previously. If anything, she felt stronger. Ophilia wished she knew why everything was so different for her all of a sudden... But deep down, she already knew the answer to that. Her visceral reaction to being in Wispermill had come from the Ember. The people of the town had stared at the Ember like it was an attacker when she first visited the village, and Ophilia was certain they had started putting together a plan to steal it from her as soon as they noticed it. The Ember was the reason Ophilia was so susceptible to the darkness, but now that it was gone... Ophilia could fend it off on her own. The Ember would not be corrupted in her hands, and Ophilia would not be either. 

It was a shame Ophilia still needed to worry about someone else tainting it. 

Ophilia did her best to shove her fear and uncertainty deep into her stomach as she walked deeper into the town. Someone in Wispermill had to know where Lianna had gone with the Savior, and Ophilia would do whatever she had to find the truth. There weren't many people out and about on account of the early hour, but Ophilia didn't mind it. Instead, she focused her attention on a young man with brown hair that was combed just a bit too neatly for the yawning minutes of the dawn. "Excuse me, might I ask...?"

"Hm?" The young man turned to face Ophilia with something like friendliness in his eyes, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of her robes, all the light and color drained from his face. "A cleric of the Sacred Flame?! I'm rather in a hurry, I'm afraid!" He was lying through his teeth in his desperation to get away from Ophilia, and everyone could see it. Even with this knowledge, none of the travelers could stop him before he darted off in the opposite direction, desperate to tend to the sheep in a pen near the edge of town. 

Ophilia watched the young man vanish from view before she let out a heavy sigh. She would just have to find someone else. Surely at least one person in town would be willing to help her... Right? Then again, if that was the case, Ophilia wouldn't have received such cold glares after her arrival in town weeks ago. Regardless, she had to find a way to help Lianna. If that meant working through the discomfort of speaking with the other townsfolk, then so be it. Ophilia started toward another young man nearby, ignoring the waves of nerves rushing up from the pit of her stomach to varying degrees of success. "If I might have a moment..."

"I've got fields to till. Another time..." Once again, this young man was silent as he turned to face Ophilia, but his expression changed completely as soon as he caught a glimpse of the newcomer at his side. "You're from the church, eh? The Sacred Flame?"

Ophilia nodded slowly. Every alarm in her mind told her to not say too much and risk being assessed as a threat, but she needed to be as open as possible so as to not attract suspicion. If she chose her words carefully, then she would be fine... Or so she was hoping. "Yes. I am Sister Ophilia. If I might trouble you with just one thing... Is there perchance someone in this village known as the Savior?"