Zhirelle

Fits like a glove—I hope.

The Foul Passenger grows bold.

But I will not let him taint these shells.

We must carry on.

Your Mether… she is weak, but she endures.

So must we.

I am Zhirelle, the Shellkeeper.

Though I have none to speak of.

These shells, you seek.

They’re more than mere flesh.

Their stories hold truth.

An answer to the Great Question—perhaps?

Is that the hunter?

Let us discover her purpose.

Is that the thief?

Let us discover his purpose together.

Is that the knight?

Is that the monk?

Is that the brute?

Is that the alchemist?

Welcome. High Sester.

Harbinger.

A cruel, loathsome knight. He sought redemption until the end.

This brute is not dead. Does he feast upon flesh to endure?

This one had a big heart. And yet betrayal filled it with rage.

Strange… this hunter. She’s not of this world.

I would not pursue this… husk of a man. His very presence spreads rot and ruin.

The Undermether chose him to suffer. So you would not.

A faceless outlaw.

Yet, he was buried with care?