Ania sat on a fallen tree at the edge of the camp as she shielded herself from the rain with her cloak. The rain mixed with the biting winds made for a deadly mixture, but the Skardians were made of sturdy stuff. Ania sighed as she glanced towards the fires and the warriors they had gathered. Everything had happened, as Bjorn feared. Many of the Pantheon's followers switched focus away from Exile, however, the change that had occurred to him attracted more warriors to believe in him.
In the end, the numbers were hardly any different. But Ania knew that Exile would suffer when his believers started to die in the upcoming battles for Stormcrown. She could not help but feel concerned as she wondered how many of those gathered would survive.
"Why are you sitting away out here?" Harik asked as walked through the trees to her position. "It would help morale if the warriors could talk with Exile's oracle, you know."
"I know... But..." Ania shook her head sadly.
