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"What's wrong? Worried we won't pull this off?" the man asked. "It's true that we might not fully understand the lay of the land here. This era isn't exactly what we planned for."
Those in the room watched Damian's sudden, bewildered expression without anger or suspicion. The stranger patted the mattress beside him, inviting Damian to sit.
"A little," Damian admitted once seated. "This era's Goddess of the Night isn't at all like the one we once knew. She is… too languid, perhaps, or unnervingly benevolent. And her following has grown far beyond what it once was."
The man at his side was plainly dressed in rough cloth; the only striking thing about him was a hooded cloak he wore.
He drew the hood back to reveal a youth's face with white hair and no remarkable features, one that was surprisingly young.
"Tell me everything," the youth said with a soft smile, patting Damian's shoulder. "Perhaps I can offer counsel."
Damian's two companions fell quiet and took seats nearby, watching as the exchange unfolded.
Damian gathered himself and began to recount what he knew: the current scope of the Church of Nightfall and the uncanny gifts...
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