A Story of Names

I reached this island in the year 164 by Arelith's Reckoning. I worked to learn who was who. I worked to learn what I wanted from the place. Where the power lied. What could be destroyed. Where I could bring havoc for my twisted amusement, while at the same time maintaining a facade of kindness. To be a beacon of hope and friendliness while ushering in despair and death in the background. Cordor is where I ended up. There was a lot of power there, and many who possessed it were horribly corrupt. All it would take is gentle nudges in certain directions for me to end up with what I wanted. Fame and knowledge. An endless web of connections and power. I was fit for it.

By the year 166, I had come up with a plan. One to both secure my place in that city - to get that power - as well as secure my legacy. To preserve my name in history. I took on the mantle of the Hawk, and I set out to destroy the Void Cult from the inside. This was decided upon after I watched Cordorians run their heads into a wall without any gain for two years. I did this with the permission of the current High Watcher of the Gauntlet, Emma Young, and the Lieutenant and Spymaster of Cordor's Guard, Marley Goodman. My dear friend Conni Ano'coda was also aware of this plot.

I used my close position with Cordor and the Gauntlet to pass information along to the Void Cult while also using my ever growing position within their church to feed information back to Emma Young and Denny Walvish. Denny trusted me enough to leave me alone with all of the Gauntlet's files. Trusted me enough to leave my name in his will despite knowing my nature. Trusted me enough to cry on my shoulder as I manipulated him every step of the way. The Cordorians were foolish to trust me, but they were desperate. So horribly desperate.

Emma Young threatened me with treason and espionage on a few occasions, but she never followed through with those charges. I imagine it's because she knew just how responsible she was for my actions. She gave permission for someone to join a church of Sharrans in a desperate attempt to see them collapse. She watched as the city was bombed. She watched as her men died. She watched things collapse. And there I was through it all. Smiling happily with my Cordorian friends like I had nothing to do with it.

In my defense, not that I care to be defended, she had ample opportunity on several occasions to do something about it. The reports are there. Reports of Void Cult activity. Reports of what was to come. I know because I've seen them all. I know because I wrote many of them. It never mattered. She was no different than most any other. For my nature alone, I was untrusted, so the reports were taken in, but I was not believed.

They knew about bombings. They knew attacks from the Sharps were coming. They knew a Death Knight was being created with an army of shadowy Legionnaires who sought nothing but vengeance. None of it mattered. They just let it happen. It was horribly amusing in a twisted way. As if I was telling someone in my arms I was going to kill them and they just smiled like I hadn't said a word and watched as it happened only to be completely floored by the result.

It was none of that which was the final straw that got me ousted from the Walled City. Funnily enough, it was an attempt to do good. A horribly selfish attempt, mind you, but an attempt all the same. The city's government had been infiltrated by a handful of secret Banite infernalists operating out of the State Magi. They threatened me multiple times. They made attempts to blackmail me, so I sought to see them destroyed. I began to unravel their scheme piece by piece and saw the truth spread across the whole island. Their lives became unbearable. Far worse than they could have ever fathomed possible. They thought their plans were flawless and foolproof. How could this have happened to them? What a horrible fate. They shouldn't have messed with me.

Cordor's foolishness is hardly why I am writing this though. Somewhere along the line, I actually bought into much of what I sat in on during my time with the Void Cult. Rising from Initiate to Adept to Nightsister -- eventually even climbing to be the right hand of the Nightseer. I stopped feeding Cordor information as soon as I was shunted out. Three years after I had taken the mantle of the Hawk, that little bird ceased to exist. There were people in the shadows who believed in me. Ones who I thought trusted me. Some of them might have, but many were no different.

It's amusing how often it happens. Their fear of my unknowns, their fear of my nature, their fear of their own weaknesses? It becomes self-fulfilling. Emma Young was afraid, constantly worried I was actually a Sharran, and ended up shoving me into the Mother's arms because of it. The State Magi worried I was a snake infiltrating them and trying to ruin them, so they threatened me nonstop until I became exactly that. Merwyn was worried that due to my nature and those I'd betrayed in the past that she would be no different, so she made me jump through hoop after hoop to prove myself. To prove to her I was worth trusting and would never abandon her. To prove that I wouldn't usher about the end of the Church she now had to reign over. Her frantic madness over it and the abuse she delivered unto me because of her worry is what inevitably pushed me away. Not only did it push me away, it led to what seems to be the final collapse of those remnants of the Void Cult.

After all those years of trying to destroy it from the inside. After further years of helping build it from the inside. After becoming absolutely enamored with the comfort of the shadows to the point that I let myself go through obscene amounts of harm, the goal of the young 23 year old Lilian Williams finally came to be. The Void Cult dismantled. Not due to some massive scale attack. Not because there was some fantastic war effort. Not because its leaders were slaughtered. The final pieces crumbled apart because of some mangled, manipulated serpent who had enough of feeling broken.

And just as expected all those years ago. Just as I'd discussed with Marley Goodman in the Lilting Lotus. Discussed with Conni Ano'coda in the Nomad. Discussed with Emma Young in the Guard Barracks. It was thankless. It was hollow. My name will never go down in history for it. No one would ever thank a murderous, backstabbing vrael.

But that's okay. As I said, it was expected by all of us. And by the end of it? It wasn't even the plan. It seems difficult to escape sometimes though. Those self-fulfilling prophecies that follow me around. Should I just roll over and deal with their abuse? Should I stop giving in and allowing them to have their moments of "I told you so"? That is difficult for me to answer, dear Reader.

Admittedly, I have very few answers. Despite my quest for knowledge, there are an infinite amount of things I still do not know. I know my own past. I know plenty of what I want. I know those who I care for. And I know that I am not just one sole name.

I am Lilian Williams.
I am Camilla.
I am Delaney.
I am Azalea.
I am Clover.
I am Mara.
I am Aster.
I am Dawn.
I am Hawk.
I am Nox.
I am Lalassu.

I am all of them. They make up my past. They are names that help tell my story. None of them single handedly define me. I am not made up by the actions of a single one. I am more. So much more.

This is just a fraction of my story. Much more has happened. And there is much more to come.

Lilian Williams
19 Eleint 175