#iovara ix ensios

[herearedragons]

@solas-backpack-mug LEVEL 3 REVENGE CHAIN LET'S GOOOO

It's the tragic sisters!

(lyrics from "Torches" by the Oh Hellos)

[solas-backpack-mug]

[yelly-ink]

Iovara!

[dreamsofdeathbywater]

Iovara ix Ensios

Drawn with pencil, pen, and a couple of highlighters I found lying around.

Drew again today! while not paying attention to what I should have Messed up her nose and chin but w/e I'm drawing again that's what matters.

[adozentothedawn]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Uuuuh, that is an ask game I will happily join. 👀👀

Alright so I definitely have to put my most recent piece on here: Hypothetical, a story about Waidwen at the beginning of the Saint's War meeting a strange wael priestess in a tavern and having a conversation while he is slowly breaking apart by the weight of a god's power. Honestly I ways getting rather sick of it while writing but after taking so long between starting and finishing it I do rather like the whole product. The time it took really gave me some perspective that writing doesn't have a set ideal result to work towards. Also honestly I just like it, I first wrote up the concept a few years ago and didn't think I'd ever do it but it really came out nicely I think.

Next on my (entirely unordered) list is Constellations, my only Dragon Age fic. It's about my Aeducan Warden Solveig feeling guilty about her reaction to Alistair's confession and her admitting to him her own heritage. It's also an excuse for me to talk dwarf culture, a thing these games have horrifyingly little of.

Next, On Angel's Wings, a Wrath of the Righteous fic about my angel commander Arturas having just. The shittest time in the Abyss. But Lariel has some things to say about anyone insulting his newest sibling, including said sibling. (Also fun fact, I started writing this before Owlcat actually gave him a proper dialogue tree. I take at least 5% credit for them doing that. xD I like to think so at least because I did send in a bug report about that.)

A Pillars of Eternity one again, Death and the Sunrise. A two-shot about Berath's feelings on Eothas in general and his rampage in Deadfire in specific. I had a lot of fun writing that one, playing around with perspectives and the weird dysfunctional family dynamics of that Pantheon.

And last but not least A Death in Your Name, a fic describing the life and death of my primary Watcher's prior life, Inquisitor and High Priestess of Eothas Emblyn ix Ensios. This was also the fic that caused me to join tumblr because the lovely @orime-stories invited me in the comments.^^ This is probably the fic of mine where the most things actually happen,I have a tendency to write people talking and feeling things more than actual plot. Still a lot of talking and feeling things though, including a conflicted Eothas and a very pissed Iovara finding that they have more in common than either of them would like.

(I have more fics, in particular 3 more Waidwen fics, but I shall limit myself.)

For simplicity's sake I will send this further in the form of tags because every time I send an ask I get concerned I somehow clicked on the wrong person and am about to emberass myself. @stylishanachronism, @adraveins, @solas-backpack-mug, @bragganhyl, and @ampleappleamble (Also of course @orime-stories if you would like), I hereby ask you to please tell me what of your stuff I should (in all likelyhood re-)read.

[triflingshadows]

Iovara in Sylveon, for the palette meme?

[babineni]

Behold: characters that I’ve doodled 😊

Many, many, many thanks to @fithragaer, @lotrificationer, @mancentipede, @general-moka, @gwynsblade and @yanara126 for the suggestions 💖💖💖

[keclan]

there’s basically no mention of iovara in pillars of eternity 2. criminal.

[dreamerinsilico]

That moment when you realize you 120% knew what you were setting yourself up for when you said “I loved her” and you did it anyway, and you’re still affected by it years after the fact.

[aedyre]

Alfaris blinked at at the ghostly figure slowly materializing in front of him. A woman, elven, with long dark hair, the left side of her face covered in one large burn -- ah. Yes. The woman from the trial -- Iovara. In the back of his mind he could feel his other incarnation’s unease turn into resignation. It seemed Caolan had expected to find her here.

“You’ve come back”, she said. “ I had thought to have set you on the right path ages ago. Or did I merely fail a second time?”

Anger bubbled up in him, vicious and terrible, almost overwhelming and not his own. Caolan, he said without speaking. Be calm. You don’t have to talk with her if you do not want to.

It was, perhaps, a bit ridiculous considering what Iovara had suffered through after Caolan had captured her for the inquisition, because Caolan had captured her, but even he had to admit that he was far from impartial when it came to his other half.

“You are so different now from who you were then, yet much remains the same--”

“I am not him”, Alfaris interrupted. “I am myself. Caolan is here”, he tapped his right index finger against his head, “but I don’t think he wants to talk to you.” He shrugged and gave her an apologetic look, though with everything she’d been through perhaps it was for the better, anyway.

“...I see”, Iovara said. “What is it that has brought you here, then?”

He smiled. “Caolan, of course. And… someone should really stop Thaos’s plans. I don’t think an empowered Woedica is what the world needs, right now or ever.”

Iovara shook her head. “That is what he collects these souls for? After all this time, he would still stand against the tide.”

Caolan mumbled something to himself that sounded suspiciously like he thought she was right, but didn’t want to agree with her on principle.

Alfaris sighed. “There’s something he -- that Caolan needs from him, but he doesn’t want to tell me what. Do you have any idea?”

That certainly garnered his other half’s attention, and he was none too pleased. No, he said. She doesn’t know anything. Stop wasting our time and go after Thaos already--

“I will tell you what I remember”, Iovara said. She studied him intently, like she was hoping to catch a glimpse of the incarnation she had known in his eyes. “I can see his influence, still hanging like a weight about your neck. So it always was. He had… inspired something in you. We spoke of him last time you were here also.”

Something!, Caolan scoffed. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“It was just after the trial. You were… agitated. I think because you started to consider that what I was teaching may have been true.”

A sense of dread filled him, once again not his own. It seemed Iovara did know what she was talking about after all.

Her expression morphed into a look of pity and once again she studied his eyes, looking for something. Alfaris remained impassive. If his other half felt so volatile when faced with her, he would be the rock needed.

Eventually she sighed. “That the gods aren’t real.”

...Oh.

He blinked again and furrowed his brows in confusion. Caolan had suddenly gone quiet, like he was afraid of shattering something if he made even a single noise, let loose a mere wisp of emotion. Distantly, Alfaris could hear his friends’ reactions, but he barely listened.

No. It made no sense. He’d spoken and quarreled with the gods and even struck a deal to get down here in the first place.

When Iovara continued he snapped out of his thoughts. “What I taught was that the gods whose faith we had been spreading were not gods at all, but something else entirely. Something created by people.”

“Engwith”, he said quietly and she nodded.

And with that the memories suddenly came, and with them understanding, like this had been all that was needed to break Caolan's control over them, if he ever even had any in the first place.

Alfaris couldn’t help but laugh.

"That is what all this has been about? Whether or not gods are really gods if they were mortal once? Ridiculous!"

Iovara frowned. "Caring about the truth is ridiculous?"

"The truth I see is that we could argue about whether their apotheosis counts as one until the world ends and do nothing but waste our time."

Caolan perked up at this, and Alfaris could feel him getting increasingly excited, like this was what he had hoped for, but not dared expect. Silly. He knew Alfaris. What else could he think?

"The truth is that it doesn't matter what their origin is, but that they failed, be it as guides or as rulers."

This time, the anger he felt was all his own; at the purges of Eothasians and the events at the temple in Gilded Vale, at Raedric's actions in Berath's name, at the Skaenites in Dyrford, at the murder of the Pargrunen, at the Hollowborn curse and Thaos's foolishness in bringing it about.

"And I would stop them just the same were they born divine instead."

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, then Pallegina laughed. "Verus!", she said and clapped him on the shoulder. "I would expect nothing less."

Iovara stared at him, like this was the last reaction she had expected and maybe it was. Her truth had been important enough for her to die after all, important enough to face torture and eternal imprisonment. "How", she started, "how does he… How does Caolan feel about this?"

Alfaris cocked his head and reached out to his other half, but Caolan still steadfastly refused to face her. Very well. He’d play messenger then.

"He… doesn't care either."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "So… That is why he sided with the inquisition? Because he doesn't think the truth matters?"

Alfaris studied her. Where before there had been a slight stoop to her shoulders, now it was much more pronounced. "No", he said eventually. "He did that because he trusted Thaos more than you."

"Oh", she said.

"You could never have convinced him, Iovara. He cares about results, not philosophy. If the gods had kept their promise of making the world better, that would have been good enough for him."

She let out a long breath and it occurred to him how odd it was that a soul would breathe. "Then what is it you -- he needs from Thaos? If that is not what you are divided on?"

No, Caolan said.

You did cause her to be imprisoned here, Alfaris pointed out. The least we can do is answer her questions.

"Thaos never trusted him back enough to tell him about this. Not even… Not even when he asked, after the last time you talked to him."

Once again Iovara’s expression turned to pity and she shook her head. "He never will, no matter what you do. But… You are a Watcher in this life, I see. Perhaps when he can no longer defend himself against that…"

That was enough to cut away whatever excitement had built in Caolan earlier. He didn't want to fight Thaos, even now. He wanted things to go back to how they had been; impossible as that was, and not just because he had died and was sharing this body with someone else.

"We'll see", Alfaris said. He knew what to expect now, knew finally what questions he needed to answer so his other half could have peace and time was running out -- but. "What about you? I could free your soul from this prison."

"No", she answered immediately. "The gods need to be reminded that we have a spirit and that spirit is proof against their power. They have the power to manipulate and confuse and ruin us, but not to change our will. I will remain here until the world crumbles and fades from existence with joy in my heart, knowing I've shown them what they truly are."

Alfaris couldn't stop Caolan’s laughter that bubbled forth at that and if Caolan finally wanted to talk to her he wasn't going to stop him, not when she had looked at him like she’d rather speak to the person she had known instead.

"I'm sure they feel very humbled by you playing their powerless prisoner, Iovara", Caolan said, sarcasm dripping from every word. ""Oh, whatever shall we do! Iovara is still obediently submitting to our sentence! She won't even take the chance to defy us and truly free her soul when offered! Oh, woe is us, she really showed us.""

Iovara had blanched at the sudden outburst. "Caolan-", she started but he shook his head.

"You want to hear why I didn't side with you from me? This is it. Why would I ever put the fate of the world in the hands of an idiot like you?"

"Caolan!", Alfaris interjected. "Enough!"

His other half snorted. "She asked, didn't she?"

He sighed and pushed a wayward curl back behind his ear. What a terrible idea -- he should have known better than to let Caolan speak when he was this upset. "I… I apologize on his behalf. That was uncalled for." He frowned. "Though he's not… Entirely wrong. I very much doubt they care, as long as you don't cause them any more trouble."

Iovara tried to steady herself. "If I left, if I let you send me back to the wheel, I would forget everything I fought for. That would be admitting defeat."

Fool, Caolan said. For once, Alfaris shushed him.

He sighed once again. "It’s a pity, but… I suppose it's your decision to make. I… should go after Thaos, before he can complete his plan."

"...Yes", she agreed. "I… Hope you will find an end to your soul’s suffering."

Caolan's pithy retort died on their tongue when Alfaris did the soul equivalent of pinching him. He gave Iovara a polite bow and then turned towards the exit.

"Let's go."

[solas-backpack-mug]

[acathea]

“i miscalculated many things these years. im glad you were not one of them”

IOVARA BABY IM SORRY. 

[depresanesfreetime]

[ampleappleamble]

Anthea ix Ensios, Inquisitor, betrays her sister Iovara at Creitum

I always made Axa's past life Iovara's sister, but I never thought about what she looked like or what her name was until I started writing Anthem Infinitum. I'm glad to finally start rounding her out ♡

Bonus:

My genius brain: okay. she has to be conveying conviction. sorrow. regret. familial love. anger. terror. grief. pain. stoicism. self-loathing. pity. self-doubt. angst.

My cursed hand:

[yanara126-writing]

A Death in Your Name - Emblyn ix Ensios (1/5)

How can one mortal soul be so important to a god?

You misunderstand. I'm not Galawain or Magran, I'm not used to people dying for me.

And yet they do. Some willingly, some not.

Iovara's sister, inquisitor and high priestess of Eothas', has made a mistake, her way of righting it impacts more things than she's expected. Perhaps Iovara has more in common with a certain god than she likes and perhaps Eothas should rethink his actions, or lack thereof, if he doesn't like the consequences.

Read here or on Ao3

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

The apostate was dead. The trial had ended and she had been sentenced to death and an eternity in Breith Eaman, unless she begged for forgiveness from the gods. There was no doubt in Emblyn’s mind that Iovara wouldn’t. Her sister had always been the more headstrong one. Emblyn had only ever followed, at first Iovara and later master Thaos. Even now she didn’t dare defy him.

This time she followed a path she knew well. She’d taken it thousands of times before, since she joined the order and then found her proper place. A place she’d never doubted, even when everything else had fallen apart.

Her boots clacked on the marble floor as she made her way through the familiar hallways. The large windows let the bright afternoon light in to illuminate the walls, but for once she paid it no mind.

When she entered the grand sanctuary, she wasn’t alone. Two young acolytes tended to the room, cleaning up any dirt still left from the last mass. When they noticed her, they bowed in greeting, eagerly asking her orders. Emblyn sent them away with a kind word and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Slower than before she stepped through the rows of well-polished, wooden benches towards the lavish altar. She brushed over the wood with her gloved hands, feeling melancholy set in. Her fingers quickly flinched away, as if they’d been burnt. Tucking her hands into her sleeves she turned away and moved swiftly onwards.

At the alter she took off her fine leather gloves and put them down. It would’ve been rude to pay her respects to the Light of Life with anything less than her own hands.

The candles were already burning, as they always were. Since her ascension to high priestess and inquisitor she’d made sure that there were always some alight, and fresh ones were brought in as soon as the previous were too burnt down. Some of these candles she’d made herself. It was a task far beneath her station, but the simplicity of it helped ground her on bad days.

With a flick of her finger she ignited an incense stick and gently put it into the brass bowl. The red gleam of the stick caught her eye and she couldn’t help but watch it for a while. As simple as it was, it was an undeniable proof of her dedication. Her lips twitched upwards for a short moment. Perhaps she had a little bit of her sister in her after all. The brief moment of levity gave way to solemn silence again.

The hard floor pressed against her knees as Emblyn knelt before the altar. Not directly in front of it, that was the spot for the priest, but further back where the devotees would receive their blessing. Her light robes fell gently over her legs, providing the appropriate modesty, but refusing her the comfort of a layer of fabric between the stone and her skin. Good.

Emblyn folded her hands and stared at the spot of light in front of her. The ceiling was designed to allow a beam of light to fall through and illuminate the place before the altar, where the priest would preach to the people. How often had she stood there herself? How often had she promised the desperate redemption and forgiveness if they just asked for it? How often had she stood there after mass and thanked Eothas for the chance He’d given her?

Her hands started trembling and soon she was shaking all over. She may have been forgiven last time, but there was no redemption after her most recent crime. She’d done what she’d thought... no, what Thaos had thought necessary. Emblyn didn’t know if he’d been right, and she didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter in the end. No end goal could possibly justify her treason.

There, in the first place she’d ever truly found peace, the walls broke down. The shaking became sobbing and she pressed her folded hands over mouth, desperately trying to keep the sound of her violent sobs from filling these holy halls, even as fat tears rolled down her face.

She’d led her only sister not only to death, but eternal damnation. She hadn’t stopped Iovara when she’d left the order. She’d lied straight to Iovara’s face, guided her to Ossionus and right to her doom.

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as Emblyn let all the atrocities she’d committed pass through her mind. Her chest hurt from her heaving sobs, but she deserved the pain. It was nothing in comparison to what she’d put Iovara through. She should have spoken up at the trial at the very latest. If not as a sister, then as the high priestess of Eothas. What a sham she was to that title.

When her wailing became too loud, Emblyn bit on her finger until she tasted iron. Red blood dropped from her teeth and stained her robes.

Now it was too late. Even if she somehow found the courage to face her sister’s final resting place, Thaos had forbidden her to go down again. He’d sent her away to find solace in her home town. As if Creitum would hold anything but hate and despair for her now, and rightly so. No, the only thing that could possibly still give her hope now, was the breaking of a new dawn.

Hesitantly Emblyn lifter her head to stare at the glittering beam of light before her. She imagined the familiar warm voice filling her head with soft promises of brighter days. Thaos thought she was upset about his revelation. She had been in the beginning, yet with time had come the realization that it didn’t really matter. Her god was still real, if anything the fact that kith had had the power to make him just proved that He was right. Every new dawn, every new spring time would be better than the last.

No, faith was no issue for Emblyn. Which was the reason she wouldn’t ask for Eothas’ forgiveness this time. Her actions were beyond redemption. She wouldn’t besmirch His sanctity by begging for His mercy and compassion when she knew she didn’t deserve it.

Slowly she took her hand from her mouth, giving the damage a short, dispassionate look, before carefully removing her outer cloak. Her tunic she would leave on, to provide at least a modicum of modesty, but the cloak was a symbol of a station she no longer deserved. It didn’t belong to her anymore, and there was no need to dirty it, when her successor would need it.

Gently Emblyn folded the cloak and put it in it’s proper place, under the light, where soon the new high priest would stand. She hoped they would appreciate the duties and privileges that came with the title. Not like her, who had grossly neglected her duty when she had been needed the most.

Tears welled up in Emblyn’s eyes again. She had been so proud at being handed the sacred tokens, had sworn her oath with confidence and had done her job with passion. The position of inquisitor had been a burden by comparison. She hadn’t wanted to prosecute people, but Thaos had convinced her that it was the right thing to do. After all, she would be delivering the worst of all people to redemption. It was mercy to cleanse them and give them a new chance on the wheel. Only that hadn’t been all. She had doubted, but had quashed those doubts with the assurance that her master had never stirred her wrong before. She still didn’t know how wrong she’d gone. Where was the cut to make? At the eternal imprisonments? The cleansing? Or was the whole inquisition a well-meant gesture taken too far? She wanted to believe in her mentor, believe that it was all right, but her world was breaking apart.

The truth wasn’t the issue, rather the fact that there was a truth at all, that it had been hidden by the very man she had trusted above any other mortal. That was what broke her. That, and the fate she had delivered her sister to at his behest, for nothing more than saying the truth. Emblyn didn’t agree with Iovara’s methods, nor with the conclusion her sister had apparently come to, but she had unravelled lies, Emblyn herself had been too blind to see. Iovara hadn’t deserved to be punished for shining a light into the darkness, no one had known to be there.

With her already bloodied hand, Emblyn pulled a dagger from it’s sheath at her hips, carelessly smearing blood on herself in the process. The tunic would soon be sullied anyway.

The dagger itself was simple, lacking the usual ornamentation of ritual weapons. No wonder, as it hadn’t been intended as such. It was a practical piece, made for self-defence, fashioned from high quality steel, and it had served Emblyn well over the years. She’d always kept it in good condition, both because of it’s sentimental value and because she’d learnt the hard way, that having a back up weapon was not optional in the less civilized corners of the world.

The polished steel glinted when she held it against the light. She felt almost sorry for misusing it like that, but it was only fitting it’d be this weapon, that would allow her to do penance one final time.

Emblyn held the handle in a tight grip, making her knuckles go white, and started her confession. Forcefully she grabbed a thick strand of her long, dark hair and sliced through it. She held the bundle of hair now in her fist towards the light and spoke with a shaking voice.

“I have brought shame over myself and neglected my sacred duty. I have disappointed the trust put in me.” The first handful of hair was thrown to the ground, spreading out over the floor. Her chest heaved with supressed sobs and she stared resentfully at the hair before angrily grabbing another bunch and slicing it off with vengeance.

“I have brought shadows to the dawn by spreading lies and untruths to people I was supposed to protect from them.” The next bundle landed on the ground, adding another layer of hair, another layer of shame.

“I have forsaken the people who needed me most and have denied them the saving light of dawn.” Her hand shook more with that cut, leaving an ugly, uneven edge behind. More than half of her hair was gone now, sheared off with only a finger’s breadth left. With a toss the hair in her hand joined the rest on the floor. A few of them were bloody, where she’d touched them with her injured finger.

Emblyn grabbed what remained of her once luscious hair, tugging so hard she could feel a few of them rip out. Trembling she chopped it all off, nicking her scalp in the process, bloodying both hair and cloths. Tears running down her face she couldn’t force out the words she wanted to say and just knelt there, dagger and hair clutched tightly in her lap. After a few seconds she remembered that she had to hurry, the sanctuary wouldn’t stay empty forever. Choking down her desperate sobs once again, Emblyn laid bare her most vile and contemptible crime.

“I have betrayed my own sister, my own flesh and blood, and have condemned her to an eternity in darkness and suffering.” She didn’t have the strength to throw the last of her locks, all energy had left her, leaving only despair behind. It took all her strength to just open her fist and the let hair tumble to the floor in front of her. Emblyn stared at the hair, spread out almost like a carpet all over the marble floor, feeling vaguely sorry for the acolyte who would have to clean it up. But the far more pressing feeling on her mind, was melancholy. Iovara’s hair had been just like hers, dark and silky, a pride they’d shared years ago. The missionaries of the order usually kept few possessions, simply out of practicality, but their hair had been the one material object the two sisters had allowed themselves to delight in.

Slowly Emblyn saw the dark locks on the floor morph into the burnt mess Iovara’s hair had been after the trial. Crusted with blood, sheared off in places and scorched in others, it hadn’t been recognizable anymore. Just like Iovara herself.

Emblyn hadn’t even been allowed to keep the body. She wouldn’t have made a big spectacle out of it, she’d just wanted to properly send off her sister in a quiet ceremony, even if she knew it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Instead Thaos had brought back Iovara’s head, or what was left of it after the fall, and had presented it to the public. As a cautionary tale, he’d said. Emblyn didn’t know what had happened to the rest of her.

But it didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t deserve the kindness anyway, just like Iovara hadn’t deserved her fate. Emblyn could only hope the blank slate of the wheel would be enough to earn her a chance at redemption. Her soul would belong to different person, and she herself would only be distant nightmare. Hopefully. Perhaps her soul was already too damaged by her own atrocities. But in that case she trusted in Gaun to weed out her soul from the cycle.

The dagger was no longer shining when she lifted it again. The edges were red with still drying blood, giving it an ugly rusty colour. Emblyn hoped someone would take care of it later, it would be a shame to let it rust.

Slowly and purposefully she placed the tip of the weapon against her upper chest, between two ribs. She made sure to have a good grip with both hands and steady aim, it wouldn’t do to botch this. She could still feel the tears on her cheeks, yet her breathing had slowed down to the point that her chest hardly moved anymore.

“I give up my life, so that those I wronged may find peace. I hand my soul over to You, to Your grace and mercy. Let my death be my penance, so that I may redeem myself in Your divine light, oh Eothas, Dawn of the World.”

After those words, Emblyn plunged the dagger into her chest with all the force she could muster. She knew she’d fail if she hesitated.

The pain was immediate and hit her with vengeance, but it came too late regardless. The blade had already sunken in to the hilt, scraping bones and piercing soft flesh. Blood was trickling out of the wound, blocked only by steel instead of flesh and skin.

Emblyn gasped, eyes wide, and suddenly the world was thrown out of focus around her as the agony overtook everything else. She hardly noticed when her surroundings tilted and her head hit the floor, as she fell. Palming the knife, she couldn’t bring herself to pull it out. Her strength was fading fast and the world was greying already, what would be the point in trying? Even the pain faded as everything became numb and muted. Somewhere in the distance she thought she could hear bells ringing, but wasn’t certain if that was real or just her wishful thinking, as she laid before death’s door.

The world turned black for Emblyn, leaving nothing behind but a vague, quickly fading sense of relief. The cold marble under her skin was gone, as was the burning agony in her chest. The last thing Emblyn felt before her soul was carefully pulled from her dying body, was a sudden flood of deep sadness, that didn’t feel quite like her own.

She was long gone when the giant double doors opened again and a young acolyte entered, confused at finding a dark room, the candles extinguished and even the windows darkened, though it was hardly sunset. She didn’t hear his scream at finding her broken body on the floor.

Emblyn never knew the chain of events her shame and desperation had triggered, that would stretch over the next millennia.

[adozentothedawn]

I’ll just quickly jump on the bandwagon of this dollmaker going through the fandom. (All of these ladies are elves by the way, but ears weren’t customizable.)

May I introduce:

1. Francesca de Luca from Old Vailia. A ranger mercenary with a wolf companion. She’s half wood elf and half pale elf. She came to the Dyrwood in search of a new job.

2. Favaen from Aedyr. An Eothas priestess who grew up in a temple. She’s a wood elf. She came to the Dyrwood as a missionary.

3. Emblyn ix Ensios. Favaen’s past life, sister of Iovara, high priestess of Eothas, and inquisitor. Died a few days after her sister the Apostate by her own hand.