Word spreads through Diamond Lake before the travelers even reach the market square.

A thin column of gray-robed pilgrims emerges from the northern road, their boots caked with mud from the long journey through the hills. At their head walks Brother Halveth, swinging a small iron censer that trails bitter incense into the morning air. Behind him follow perhaps a dozen devotees, chanting in low, rhythmic voices.

“Through suffering comes purity… through obedience comes salvation…”

The townsfolk pause in their work to watch them pass. Some bow their heads respectfully. Others whisper and pull their children closer.

The pilgrims move directly toward the Cathedral of Zammonkerr, where the bells begin to toll as they approach.

A few of the travelers lean heavily on their companions as they walk. One coughs into his sleeve, the sound sharp and wet before the chanting quickly rises to cover it. Another pilgrim stumbles briefly but is steadied by two others who guide him forward without breaking the procession.

Brother Halveth lifts his voice as they pass beneath the cathedral gates.

“The faithful have come to seek Zammonkerr’s mercy.
The world trembles beneath the weight of its sins, but the obedient shall endure.”

The cathedral doors open.

The pilgrims disappear inside.

By evening, the bells of Zammonkerr ring again.