The clouds above the chapel were gathering, casting an uneasy feeling throughout the monastery grounds. Rainfall seemed imminent, possibly causing problems for the monks tomorrow.

Darnell walked quickly through the church as the sun set behind the clouds. He blew out candles and locked shutters, preparing everything for nightfall. Most of the clergy were already in the dormitories, and Darnell was one of the last to remain awake. Moving briskly down the cloisters, he saw Brother Godwyn lock the front door to the chapel.

Darnell caught his eye and said, "Well, Brother Godwyn, another day's work for the Light done."
 
Godwyn nodded.  "And I am ready for a much needed rest, brother. "
 
Darnell sighed, thinking about how fatigued he was as well. "At least we’ve no major services to prepare for tomorrow, although I did hear that we may receive a visit from Lord Fordragon."
 
"Really?" Godwyn replied, surprised. "Why would he be coming here?"
 
"I have no idea,” Darnell began.  Raising an eyebrow, he added sarcastically,  “His sudden visits are hardly ever a cause for concern however.”

Godwyn made a face. He was about to respond when at that moment, a loud crash just outside the front doors made them both jump. The doors were thick, but still shuttered at whatever force was pushing against them.
 
Darnell took a step forward, but Godwyn grabbed his arm. They looked at each other in silence, listening, when a few seconds later and another crash brought their attention back to the door.  Something was out there, but what it was neither could guess.

Gathering his courage and his nerves, Darnell stepped forward and removed the heavy wooden bar that locked the doors. He gasped at the dreadful sight in the doorway and dropped the steel bar on his toe. Suppressing a curse, Darnell watched as a tall figure dressed in black robes fell through the door.
 
Godwyn stood frozen at the sudden events unraveling before him. 

"Get the Priestess, quickly!  Godwyn, Go!"

Shaken out of his initial shock, Godwyn hesitated, and then ran towards the sisters’ dormitory.
 
Darnell grunted, lifting the woman onto a long, wooden bench. She was not breathing. As the light from the few remaining lit candles caught the fallen figure, Darnell saw that her robes were not black, but dark scarlet. Her arms were thin, deathly thin. She most likely wandered to the Abbey from Goldshire. Darnell heard her mutter what sounded like prayer, to which he whispered soothing words.

"The Light will help you my lady.  Please, rest."
 
Darnell rolled up the sleeves of his plain brown robes and reached to remove the odd black mask that covered the woman's face. When he touched it, the mask evaporated in a puff of black smoke.  The smoke cleared and revealed the woman’s face, causing Darnell to recoil in horror.
 
She was rotting.
 
A Forsaken, here, in Northshire!, Darnell thought. Now he knew why she was so thin, and why she was not breathing. Breathing rapidly, Darnell took a nervous step backwards, muttering a prayer.
 
The Forsaken’s eyes snapped open in a flash of painful light, and Darnell gasped aloud. Her eyes were a piercing scarlet color, like hellish fireflies in the semi-darkness. She sat up, staring viciously at Darnell.

"Hello, human. I am Teemull."
 
Consumed by the greatest pain he had ever experienced, Darnell collapsed to the ground. He screamed, and Teemull stood over him. Waving a bony hand over her abyssal face, Teemull’s mask appeared again in a cloud of black smoke. 

Energy began to swirl around Teemull’s hands, a rainbow of colors, from crimson and orange to blue and violet. Teemull stepped forward, her eyes grinning evilly through the darkness of the holy chapel.

"Devil!" cried Darnell through gritted teeth.
 
The Forsaken leaned forward and cocked its head slightly.  In a whisper that seemed to flow from the abyss itself, Teemull replied.

"Not yet."