Hondem wheeled his horse around and saw through the trees and darkness a glowing white light, not too far from where he charged through the Decayed moments before, and considered going back towards it but seeing that they weren't fighting and were in no danger, he doubted he needed delay going to the Vicar any more than he already had. Instead, he waited in silence for until the scout approached them, struggling through the muck and using the trees as support, his face looking haggard and red. Once he was nearby, Hondem moved his horse towards him. "Are there any more of the Decayed left that we haven't killed?" he asked.

The scout shook his head, taking a few moments to catch his breath. "The few remaining are headed towards that white light yonder," he said. "I heard voices coming from there, Seekers speaking to each other I think."

"Then they should be more than capable of handling those dread creatures," he said and returned to his companions. "Jayden, allow the scout to ride with you, he cannot be of much use to us out of breath as he is."

"Aye," his companion said and held out a hand to let the scout up onto his horse, and once mounted rode out ahead.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, save for the scout who corrected their course every once in a while. And with every minute that passed, Hondem Raz couldn't help but feel a dread apprehensiveness grow within him. Who was this Vicar that would point them to the Herald? Was she one of his victims turned to a life of service and solitude after having suffered his cruelty? And if she were, would she deprive him of his redemption in favour of seeking vengeance? He knew these thoughts unreasonable, perhaps even insane to think that the Vicar could be one of his victims, the chances were too low for such a thing, and yet the doubts plagued him. A part of him whispering that he wasn't good enough for this, that he didn't deserve to be there and that by doing it at all was spitting in the faces of the [i]true[/i] Seekers. What type of Seeker would have done his crimes, who would go to the Herald with a black and ruined heart?

His fears welled up within him, constricting in his chest as he suddenly felt too tight inside his own armour. His breathing came in shallow gasps as they neared the tree line, his thoughts increasing in their insistence that the Vicar would turn him away. She needed Seekers, but he wasn't a Seeker, he was a fraud! Turn back, his inner voice screamed and taunted at him, turn back for only the holy can seek redemption! And yet, despite slumping forward and nearly drenched in sweat from the internal barrage his depression and doubts cast at him, he continued on. The Vicar would accept him, he told himself, and the Seeker would not turn him away. He would seek penance, he would punish himself with the most brutal punishments and he would take it with the upmost patience as his victims had.

"We are here," the scout said at the base of a rocky climb. "I'm afraid however, your horses will have to remain here while you are inside."

"No matter," Hondem Raz said as he dismounted hearing some grumbling from the others. He took a moment to look up at the monastery, once again feeling that tightness in his chest. He took in several deep breaths and nodded to himself. "Well, shall we?" And he ascended the steps, his armour clinking with his every movement until he finally reached his destination where he saw three women dressed in plain yet clean clothes standing in front of the entrance. Manners would have seen that he remove his helmet in such cases, yet past experiences taught him to do so would only be met with hostility and open prejudice, even within the houses of the holy.

"We welcome you, Seeker," the one in the middle said with a nod of her head. "And your followers. You are all welcome to the monastery. "Our Lady has instructed us to see to your comfort, that you are well rested and satisfied."

Hondem reeled at the word as though struck a massive blow, taking a step back as his heart rate and breathing increased several fold. His head was a rush of blood and yet he felt cold to his bones; he thought he had beaten his desires, that he had moved past his dark nature, and yet looking upon those three women before him, especially the one in the middle, he wanted nothing more than to [i]ravage[/i] them. He took another step back and peeled his eyes away from the three as he turned and shoved his companions out of his way; he wanted to be away from there, away from the temptation that this place offered, a potential for him to relapse and forever condemn himself.

"Hondem!" Jeanne said in a harsh whisper, stepping in front of him as she grabbed him by the furs on his shoulders at the top of steps. "What in the blazing hells is the matter with you?"

He tried to respond and yet he found no words, he could barely even breathe. Condemned his thoughts kept saying, condemned and forever more a fraud not remotely worthy of being a Seeker.

"Hondem!"

Fraud! There is nothing worse in the eyes of the Herald than the hypocrite! Turn back before your are smote down for the cretin you are!

He felt his helmet being pulled off and for a moment felt the cool night air on his light brown face before a savage slap sent him crashing down onto a knee. He blinked, seeing nothing but stars for moment, then breathed out as though snapping out of a trance and looked up to see Jeanne standing above him with a worried look on her face, the others standing close by, all watching him save for the three women which seemed to be keeping their distance. He turned his face from theirs, allowing his shoulder-length oiled, kinky black hair to obscure his face from theirs.

"Thank you," he said as he pushed himself up with a grunt.

"You were having a panic attack," Jeanne said, still giving him a worried look.

He nodded as he looked around for his helmet, walked over to it and put it back on. "It happens," he said and walked back to the three women. "I apologize for that. Please, if you would take us to the Vicar we would be most grateful."