Sylvia gasped as she threw off the last vestiges of sleep.
"Mother! Father!" she shouted, gasping in the night air. It took her a moment to realize that she was no longer in Magnimar, but at the Rusty Dragon in a small town just north of there. Sandpoint.
As a priestess of Sarenrae, she had learned of the opening of a new cathedral, one that would be dedicated to six of the most divine local gods and goddesses. Shelyn herself was to be honored, and Sylvia had hopes of attending the festival, the Butterfly Festival in honor of Desna. It was supposed to be a break, but she kept having these dreams. Darkness creeping over the horizon, some strange catastrophe just on the verge.
Don't be silly. They're just dreams!
She silently padded to the open window of her room, her nightgown soaked from sweat. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze came through, cooling her off. Smiling gently, she closed the window and went back to bed. The festival would be beginning tomorrow morning, and she hoped to be there bright and early for the festivities.
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Sylvia grew up in a middle classed family of merchants in Magnimar. They were quite pleased when their youngest daughter showed promises of joining the Church of Shelyn. She excelled at her classes and graduated early from seminary at a young age. She went back to living with her parents and older brother before becoming restless.
She had visions, mostly at night. Some were good, but most were horrible. She felt that she was being asked to be part of something bigger. Packing up her few belongings, she tearfully explained to her family what she was planning to do. Seemingly at random, she decided to head north, where she heard of a new chapel being rebuilt in a small town called Sandpoint. Something inside of her stirred. She felt... compelled to go there. This was her meaning, what she was here for.
Now with a destination in mind, she felt confident, if a little uneasy and afraid. She moved with deliberation down the traveler filled road to Sandpoint.
