Character: Mist Niviane
World: Odin
Prize: Scarf of Wondrous Wit
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An Ishgardian Tale

'No matter the reason, venture not into the cathedral on the eve of All Saint's Wake!'

For several years these words have kept inquisitive Ishgardian youths from braving the darkened halls of Halone's house of worship.

'But why?'

Always the same question, answered with no more than a stony look and pursed lips. None would speak of the horrors that had occurred on that frightful night, for none truly knew what they had entailed.

Mist grimaced each time she chanced to overhear snatches of such conversations. Though time had healed the gravest of the wounds, her memories yet remained, ever as clear as the waters of an Abalathian spring. Her thoughts wandered back to that night, to memories so vivid they might have been visions granted by the Echo.

「The darkness pressed close, eliciting a soft shudder from her stumbling form. She pulled her cloak tighter against the chill of the cavernous halls. It had grown too quiet.

'A beast', they had said, practically thrusting her through the doors that framed the depths of the cathedral's vaults. Such was their panic that the these were sealed immediately behind her. She had no recourse but to continue, seeking the source of their terror.

A sharp sound shattered the fragile silence.

Mist flinched and drew her sword, brandishing it unsteadily before her in a feeble attempt to ward off unseen nightmares. The scraping. Again the scraping; an infernal rasping of misshapen claws on stone, bubbling forth from the inky depths. A low growl followed in its wake, twisting into an unholy wail as its pitch entered the higher registers.

She breathed a string of curses as she steeled herself, railing at the misfortune that had brought her here on this ominous night. What had she to be afraid of? Fearless warrior of light, slayer of countless dreadwyrms. It didn't help.

The passage twisted onwards, its labyrinthine structure more forbidding than the binding coils had ever been. As she advanced further into the vaults, a deep rumble began to rattle the very walls around her, its volume increasing with each arduous step. The closer it grew, the more she felt her already tenuous courage ebb and wane.

And then it was gone, giving way to a clammy silence. Mist froze in her tracks.

She stifled a soft yelp as something brushed against her calf. The rumbling resumed, its intensity twofold magnified. In horror she turned her gaze downwards, towards its source.」

Her screams that night, echoing from those hallowed halls, gave rise to countless tales of the eldritch horrors that dwelt within the depths of Ishgard's majestic cathedral. Yet none but the warrior of light had set eyes upon them.

This was no mere coincidence - no simple twist of fate. Never would she reveal the truth, for imagine the derision she'd face - the proud warrior of light driven to panic at the brush of a cat.