Light steps echo across the halls of a stone temple. A dreary atmosphere surrounds it, one that Pycena is far too familiar with. Her goddess used to be like a good friend she shared her victories, aspirations, and gifts with. But now it seems as if that old friend is gone, replaced by someone judging and harsh, not letting one wrong word slip Pycena's mouth before smiting all she ever loved with divine anger. But here she is. A naive hope in her heart that the old friend isn't gone, that she may truly belong with her and be forgiven. Not because she needs her blessing again, far from it. Freedom from the blessing had brought Pycena nothing but immense spoils and treasure, her inner will unshackled. What she truly wants is approval, and an acknowledgement of her efforts, of her hopes and memories, and her willingness to follow the path. She is but a slave to her people in all aspects else; every move in service of a greater goal, every word crafted to bring people towards her cause, every action made to create a future for the next generation. And yet in the fungal embrace, she belonged. In a way, the fungal embrace helped her stay in the present, but now she is torn between the past and the future. She sits down on the glass floor, lowers her hood, and puts her hands together to pray. She's cold, but not from the winds of the sea, but from her own anxiety. The shivers from her own gut telling her to get out. To flee. ... In a moment's notice she musters the courage to speak, and prays to her god: "Mycelyix the Awesomest! Please accept this tribute, for my decayed faith had remained stalwart, and my heart pure in the embrace of Rot. Even without your blessings I had tried to give back twice the gifts I was given." Her expression was one of fake confidience. A nervous smile as the rest of the body twitched from the inner cold. The only thing she could do now is wait. ((-12204 73 -1558))

One of the miraculous mushrooms, Funky, would repeat the lines of the spell as well as Pycena's complaining for a few weeks.

Shaken by the recent events, Pycena would dedicate much of her efforts towards minimizing the damage caused by the sudden spread of madness across much of Emeraldite lands. But this did not leave her bereft of duties back in her home of MyleHatsu. A good while ago, the second blightening of the forest had occured, sending much of the town's economy into chaos. In due time Pycena had devised a temporary solution to the lumber industry on her island: to replace the earthly species of trees that thrived there with ones native to the hells. Naturally, they had to be grown on special soils. But the fungal wood had a serious issue. It would not burn. It smoldered and kindled, enough to cook a simple meal but the fires it created were not hot, they did not warm the bodies of those living in the city and families living in the boreal island would have to wear several layers of additional cloth and fur. Soon, a disease outbreak affected both the elderly and the young. The future and the past of the settlement. To think her own devotion would lead to the suffering and death of her own kin had made Pycena question her faith dearly. The wood from the old forest was not merely harvested. In an attempt to return nutrients to the soil and please her god (despite trees being regularly rotted, with both leaves and trunks returning to the soil, which was clearly visible by the layers upon layers of podzol on the soil, and an herbalist who had taken the care of the soil personally and was provided both tools, materials, and payment for her work.) Pycena had placed the wood and organics of the trees in mounds of soil. Rot piles. Soon enough mycelium had began to spread over them, but the organics inside were seemingly untouched by decay. Seeing this, Pycena decided it was time to support the nature's workings with a bit of magic. She did not know the cause of why things did not decay on the holy island of the divine of decay, but seeing as this situation got ridiculous enough already she tried to lend a hand of her own. A simple incantation, cast over each and every rot pile, six in total, should suffice. Her necrotizing staff in hand, she drew the rune of gifts: gifu, and began the work: "Embrace of earth""Decay of leaves""Consume the will""And life of trees""The gift of earth""Was taken free""Now comes the time""Give back to thee" "The gift of blight""Respected not""Now comes the time""Decay and rot" "Twice which was taken""Given back""The fruits of life""Now tainted black""The fungal strands""Shall cover thee""The gifts inside""Decayed and free" "Embrace the gift""Respect her words""Decay's embrace""To all which rots""Rotten gift"As necrotic energies filled each mound Pycena could only hope that this time, the rot would actually take hold. Regardless, Pycena spent the rest of the day with the town's herbalist, Felicia Cantherellus, painstakingly tending to the soils of the island while lecturing her on how she should treat her duties more seriously.

On an ordinary shopping trip to Grastagg, Pycena had come across the grizzly events that transpired across much of the emeraldite lands. Screams and cries. Madness in the streets. Guards on their last legs. A scene reminiscent of the tyranny of Asphodel, just with different colors. She was shocked by the weight of the events. After passing by some guards she rode through Grastagg. She met Levias, the Twiceborn. A man she once saved from undeath, having somehow the luck to survive death for a second time. And yet the scenes on the streets, and the tales of the guards were that of utter horror. Regardless of her allegiance, she could not sit idly and watch innocent people suffer. She found a guard, one sane enough to explain the situation to her. Some kind of malicious spell allegedly cast by Dawn's Reverie has brought madness to the people and let to the insanity. One which poisoned the water supply. Having the tool for the job, a staff channeling the pure waters of Thalassus, she went to work on the local water supply. Small black particles lingered in the lake, most likely the source of the corruption. Pycena had cast plenty of magics before: evocations, enchantments, and wards. Her most recent accomplishment was creating several spells to be used in army warfare inspired by ancient tales from her home. With that knowledge in mind Pycena had quickly thought of a short incantation."Reverse waterfall""Stable flow""A balance restored""A cleansing glow""Waters pure""Shall fill this lake" She drew the rune of purification and healing - Berkano, with her staff in the air, a trick she learned from Svarog when they were trapped together in a haunted mansion. Then let the pure waters fill the lake, channeled by her magic. The particles began to float up and dissapear, the corruption seemingly purged. Hesitant, she took the first sip of the water. It was... normal, normal as in good. Job well done. Having confirmed her efforts had worked so far, Pycena had set out to purify the rest of the waters in and around Grastagg she could get access to. Then, she set out towards other emeraldite cities suffering from the same maddening afflictions. Being a skilled equestrian had its merits. Pycena would be able to charge and maneuver through the crowds of the maddened, without having to kill a single one. No one would judge her for it, and yet she treated the lives of the maddened with the same respect they would have in life. Pycena headed to other Emeraldite settlements: Eastlake, Oakhold, Westwatch, New HeathrestThe reception wasn't always warm, but Pycena wasn't always honest. It was just a matter of talking to the right guard to let her do her magic....River Grunne? Surpisingly that place was fine, or not. Either whoever did this had a strong bias or did not want there to be blighted madmen running amok....Wood's edge. Surprisingly fine but after talking to a few residents it seems like someone did a round of curing already, regardless she would purify the waters of both of the places.Wherever Pycena went she would check her list of affected settlements occasionally, noting if she had missed any and making another trek if necessary. Returning home she checked her own water supply, perhaps a bit paranoid about the whole ordeal. In her library she would begin to draft another spell. One able to mend the minds and souls of the unfortunate maddened citizens, and one which would serve useful in her own efforts going forward. When the dust settled she knew she'd need to ask June some hard hitting questions.

Pycena find the mail in her mailbox and reads it thoroughly. The information war has flared up, and while the whole ordeal was confusing, she does have an idea what's going on. Her doubts of the emeraldites stemmed from them essentially admitting to casting a spell capable of injuring a person. Combined that with the fickle and evasive nature of magic itself, she highly suspects that the emeraldites are not telling the full story. With this in mind, she writes a letter to Lady June. To the Lady of Dawn's Reverie, June Nieroy.From Pycena Do O Grant, Magister of MyleHatsu. I've been following the events closely and I will be able to speak at ____. I will still attempt to pursue a peaceful solution, or at least minimize the casualties in the war, as part of your coalition. I will insist however, that for the safety of my people all major decisions be done collectively, with each member being able to cast the vote towards the final outcome. However, i cannot ignore the smoking gun that the emeraldites left on the negotiation table. They've admitted to the use of a hostile "Truth forcing" spell, if such a thing is even possible. Regardless whether this effect was real, the use of dark magic that's able to injure a person, or worse, delve into their very soul is unprecedented. I wish you and your people safety in these troubling times and you can expect support from me and my forces. Pycena seals the letter and sends it to June's mailbox. She remembers the tales of her past. Empires meddling with astral magic, summoning forces from realms beyond. Causing corruption and marking the very souls of those that fought them to die gruesomely by what only could be described as eldritch creatures.