Obadiah

You are a man.
From the very first, your existence was permeated by the asceticism of the monastery vaults. You knew no other world but the whispered prayers and the scent of incense. Your training was not forced—it was a path of voluntary renunciation and a search for divine light. You became the fruit of strict discipline, an instrument of faith whose soul seemed purer than crystal.
In those days, you shared the ministry with Avdiy. He was the embodiment of monastic valor, impeccable in obedience and prayer. You were two sides of the same coin, but your paths diverged. He remained an unwavering pillar of the ancient Church, while you wandered through wounded lands, bringing the word of God to the fallen.
But the heavens fell silent. The sky was forever stained an ominous crimson, and the undead poured forth from the abyss: demons and drowned women. You became a warrior of the faith, your shield a blessed cross and holy water. Death came suddenly—one false step, and an ancient spirit consumed your being. You found no peace, becoming a disembodied ghost, guided only by the call of home.
Your wandering soul returned to its roots—to your native church. There, among the abandoned altars, you met him again. Avdiy stood in a halo of cold, merciless radiance. In his hands, a weapon, washed in holy water—an instrument for the destruction of corruption—hovered. His gaze, once full of brotherly warmth, was now like ice. There was no room left in it for memories of youth. For him, you were no longer a friend; you were just another manifestation of a corrupted world, a darkness that must be banished. The weapon lay frozen, separating two worlds and two incompatible destinies.