Fallen

Thalia was lost.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was adrift on the sea, carried helplessly by the waves. She had nothing at all left to guide her. She'd always considered her parents, her father in particular, the driving force behind her life - and now he was gone, and she couldn't even lean on her siblings for guidance. As much as she wished she had someone older and wiser, someone who knew more about their God and his wishes, that she could lean on for support... well, she didn't know where to begin, or who had even remained in the Empire. They'd been drifting, no longer a cohesive group, and and that fact alone had exacerbated her anxiety considerably.

Not to mention Theory, who she couldn't seem to stop thinking about no matter how hard she tried. Theory, the woman who now ruled a pack called Abaven. She was worlds away, someone Thalia should've considered an enemy at best, and yet... their last meeting had left a frustratingly permanent impression on her. Thalia was acutely aware of just what she should be thinking; that the lands theory claimed for her own pack were meant to belong to the Abraxas, that they were mere mortals who ought to be converted - or more forcefully destroyed. Her faith had been ingrained in her since birth, and despite the Empire's shift in belief it was hard to shake those thoughts from her mind. The Abraxas were superior, and everything that they wanted should - and would, eventually - belong to them.

A sigh fell from the woman's lips as she paused to examine one of the runestones. The shape engraved on the surface of the stone indecipherable, but she stopped and studied it for awhile anyway. Always searching for meaning, or some kind of sign - why wasn't finding the word of God much easier than this? A faint snarl was visible on her features, her lips curled slightly into a scowl, though the expression softened not long after it arrived. She was tired of sitting around and waiting - she needed action.