Lissilana had been away from Bree-land for entirely too long. She thought, after having her image of someone she loved, that leaving was the answer. That what happened was a sign for her to leave and do good elsewhere.
She would not say she had been wrong, as it had led to a betterment in herself which she’d not have found otherwise. But coming back to find the damage that had been caused to people in her absence made her wonder if she should, or even could, have found a better way.
Now, as she walked through the ruins of Arrowhaven, she shook her head firmly. She would no longer let these thoughts condemn her and make her feel as any of this was her own fault.
“Blasted wolves in sheepdogs’ clothing. Pretending to protect the broken. Pretending to be open, honourable and caring,” she thought, looking at the destruction such people inevitably caused.
The Order of the Seven had shown her one of her true purposes and callings. It had been a beam of light in such an imposing, dark world. She loved the memories, the goodness. Yet here, after the true leaders had disappeared and a cultish con-man had taken over to make it his, it was as though he was attempting to sully each beautiful memory.
She had looked up to this con-man. Seen and accepted him as family. Then, when the leaders and upstanding folk in the Order were no longer watching, he had shown his true colours. Using the Order as some dark cult centered around him and those whom he deemed his own folk. No others mattered.
The weak and innocent which had once been the focus of the Order, were now seen as tools to be used and manipulated. Honour was traded for hubris. Love was traded for pleasure. Friendship and fellowship were traded for manipulation and needless lies.
Lissi wiped the tears from her eyes and looked down at the sigil she held. Somehow, the sigil of leadership had been left behind in the wreckage. She would keep it.
“I, Lissilana Hastick, will hold true to the vows. I will lead the Order of the Seven until the return of Duramarth. For I trust no other with this task. I shall keep the Order true to its purpose and reclaim it from the ashes where the Cockroach nearly killed it.” She vowed before the building she had been shown, all those years ago. It had once held the entirety of the Order within its halls.
She had spoken to many of the victims of the cultish change. They were distrusting at first, but soon, her honesty had shown itself to be true. Just as lies will always be found out, the truth shall always stand under the weight of darkness and distrust.
“I may be the only one remaining for now, but perhaps I shall find others. Or recruit trusted folks,” she mumbled to herself. Her mind flooded with plans and thoughts, and she knew she would need to write much of this down when she returned home.
The Order of the Seven would never again be a harem, a cult, a self-serving group used for servitude to some faulty hierarchy. She would burn every piece of the Order and give it a mighty funeral in the end, before she ever saw it fall to the hands of people who would use it for such.
The Cockroach may have thought he twisted it to his use, for his pleasure. But that was not the Order. It was him playing dress-up to feel like something he had never been. No more.
Now, she returned home. To that horribly ugly little house she bought and repaired. She smiled to herself, not with the cheerful and naive optimism she'd held before, but with the joy of truth and purpose. This was going to be a long task, but well worth the toil.
