The rain starts to fall on the planeswalker now, very gently and warm like fresh tears from the sky. They remind her of only a glimpse of what she had gazed upon through the eyes of a lone paladin searching for answers.
Citlatecpatl found herself admiring the grand power of her god as she looked upon the temple. She had been gone for a few weeks, hunting down undead in the crypts below the Greenrock Monastery; it was good to be home.
She waded into the oasis scooping some of the sweet water in her hand and taking a sip looking towards the temple with a faint smile. Yes… home, a home that suited her more then the jungle and her mother’s people ever had.
She smiled again and stood up, running across the expanse of desert to the temple, and as she touched the door she froze. Something was dreadfully wrong; it pulsed through the entirety of the temple. She eased her great sword from the baldric and pushed open the stone door. The temple was as it was when the planeswalker had been there, but the paladin did not and could not know this. The undead swarmed her and she muttered a small blessing on the sword, and then the blade cleaved through several of the rotting bodies. Many strenuous minutes later the last skeleton fell and shattered into a million pieces, and the paladin fell to her knees in front of the alter of her god. All she felt in the place was emptiness, and for moments that felt like hours in the dreams of the planeswalker, the paladin sat on the ground of that empty temple crying without tears before she angrily pulled herself up and ran to the outside of the temple screaming for her god. “My God!” She had cried in the tongue of her people.* “My God where have you gone!?”
Aysel had felt her pain as she screamed, sensed her agony as the paladin charged with her greatsword in hand through possible enemies of her god that could have done such a thing, In the end the paladin had returned to the temple crying out loud in her agony, though she had brought allies to the planeswalker’s side. Vertigo Iceclaw had seen the undoing in balance in the turmoil of the temple, though he could not stand for good or evil, and then a Paladin of Torm* who saw the turmoil that spilled from the temple.
The sun peeked its face over the horizon where the paladin had sat crying atop the temple. She understood what had to be done, after all the blood had been shed and the two alliances had been forged. She was not to be a part of the middle of all this any longer, she was part of the means of mending. Aysel had shown her what had happened, and after that, she had understood. Pelor’s power had been taken from the temple; it would not be able to return by itself. She had to go into the desert and find the Avatar of Pelor, and only then with the avatar would the temple be restored in the end.