Large beeds of sweat intermixed with long strains of tears down Elizabeth's face as she silently gaze out her window. Krystal stood next to her, scanning the young girl who had just recovered from some sort of nightmare.
"I'm sorry for troubling you, Krystal."
"This is no trouble. Please, tell me what's bothering you."
"I feel dreadful. You have just saved my life and prevented an uprising that would have surely cast the church into a generation of darkness. But..."
The room was silent again. The young archbishop's eyes held steady on some point in the distance that Krystal could not discern.
"Anything you should ask of me, I would gladly fulfill." Crystal said, hoping to gain more information from the quiet girl.
"It was a curse, the storms that surround Innistrad, to prevent us from leaving to greener fields. How naive we all were."
"Do you speak of the storms of the Sea? What does..."
"I thought it would be a joyous day when the sun should shine on our coasts. I thought it would be a day of fishing and exploration, all the luxuries that the old prophets spoke of. Alas, a sore day awaits us. A sore age awaits us and we must prepare."
"What day do you speak of? Again Elizabeth, What would you have me do?"
"It has been written that from heaven shall the end of the world come. First the moon should quake and turn aside. The storms will fade, the earth shall crack and the stars shall be right. The angels shall fall and unto all Innistrad there will be a blight. Ageless and fair will be her messengers, but she shall be eternity's hag, come to claim all wickedness that is her's to bare home to endless toil and pain."
Krystal thought about the words for a moment. "Do you think the Red Heron was one of the angels that should fall?"
"Angels have fallen before, but the Heron's sisters are angry to the point of hate. I have received word from Thraben that many have left the holy steeples and travel north to Stensia. But that is not all. A delegate from the west has brought me word that the sun shines on the western shores and fair travelers have visited the rocky countryside. I fear the prophecy is truly unraveling before us."
"Fair travelers? Well, can the prophecy be prevented? Or stalled at least?"
"Perhaps. I can think of only one way to find out. The answer lies beyond doctrine. Travel with your companions to Nephalia, to Jenrik's tower. The steward there, Martin, should be able to help us understand more of what we face and how to stop it. But be warned, he is not to be trusted."