Chapter Text
Reminiscing on the memories of my undead life with the benefit of retrospect, I am able to recognize that the clues pointing toward what I was to become were always present.
I too, at the same time, recognize that I was naive to continuously experience signs from the Gods to get open my eyes to my increasingly treacherous situation and still turn a blind eye.
I wonder sometimes why I was granted so many chances. It must have been mercy from them. Perhaps the relentless devotion from my life as a cleric has not gone unnoticed after all.
Or, equally or more likely, they pitied me. Either way, I chose to overlook every one of them. My heart continuously overtook any signals to run.
This is a symptom of the little humanity that remains in me. When long separated from examples of what it truly means, it will warp and bend to its surroundings.
That’s the cruelest part of “spawnhood”. It strips away anything sacred and leaves only the weakest and fragile emotions to overtake your mind.
I pray as you read the retelling of my ignorant self's inaction, you will grant her grace.
As the self I exist as now, I know that it was all part of It's design.
She, a version of myself long dead, did not.