Yes, in a soft bed

A painful blend of hell and betrayal infuse your dreams, which have long since stopped making sense even to you. When a faint light shines at the edges of your consciousness, you turn away. You deserved the hell you trapped yourself in, no-one could be redeemed from what you'd done. But the light is persistent and sears away the darkness, reminding you of pain that you'd long grown numb to but infusing you with warmth as well. A whisper like silk brushes over you, bearing the will of the divine. Be strong was all it said.

You blink groggily in the sunlight, a silk curtain flapping across your face. You brush it aside and find yourself in the infirmary. With a sigh of relief you flop back onto the bed, wincing at the aches and pains that spread to your core. What a horrible dream! The Abbey falling, dying of thirst, all your sisters lost... What could have brought it on you wonder? You never want to see another demon, though you suppose technically you never have. You frown as the moments tick by. The memories of **** and betrayal don't seem to be fading as easily as a normal nightmare and flashes of Glenda being violated flare before your eyes. With growing horror, you turn to the window and see... sand dunes. Stretching out for miles to the ocean. Your eyes prick with tears but none fall. You must still be dehydrated.

As you take huge gulps from the jug beside your bed, a sister walks into the room. You don't recognize her but the familiarity of her immaculately kept uniform calms you. Sun-bleached blond hair falls around her shoulders, nearly but not quite forming ringlets, and her sky blue eyes brighten as she sees you, "Oh, you're awake! I'm sister Janine. The whole abbey has been eager to hear what brings a fellow sister to us, especially one in your condition." You raise your eyebrows at the bluntness of her words but she seems friendly enough. And incredibly beautiful... focus Sabine!

You clear your throat, "My name is Sabine St. Croix, I'm... I was a sister at the Abbey of White Rock." The blonde's eyebrow's furrow as she sits at the foot of your bed, "Was?" The screams and sounds of yesterday seem to echo for a moment and you shake your head to clear it, "The Abbey was attacked by demons, overthrown in a matter of minutes by a demonic strike **** lead by Thoros. The War Mother-" you're **** to stop as a fit of coughing overcomes you. Spitting out sand, you continue, "-she tasked me with bringing the holy sword of Saint Magdelena to Gerlangen, to prepare for the demon invasion." The words tumble from your mouth and every other syllable seems to alarm the sister more. As you get to the details she holds up a hand, "I-I think I should fetch mother Diana." She fairly sprints from the room, tanned complexion tinged with green, and you hear a commotion start up outside.

You push yourself from the bed, groaning as your joints crackle like kindling. You instinctively perform a few mobility exercises before you remember the sword. You frantically examine the room but you see no sign of it, the sisters must have taken it for safekeeping.

The thought should calm you but it forms a pit in your stomach. The fate of the world could very well rest on you getting that sword to Gerlangen, it should never leave your sight. Besides, something felt off about this place. Maybe The Burning Rose can guide you, as she'd done thus far. You empty your mind of fear, anger, even guilt, tapping into your honed connection with your goddess as you meditate.

Nothing.

No, not nothing. You couldn't put your finger on it but it was as though your connection to The Burning Rose was... turbulent. It was impossible for you to contact the goddess without calm or at least clarity of thought, this was a basic precept you'd learned long ago. But you were calm and your thoughts were as clear as they'd been since before the Abbey fell. It was almost like the problem wasn't on your end, like somehow the Burning Rose wasn't focussed. That wasn't possible though, deities were beyond all earthly concern. In an almost literal way, they were focus.

You are awoken from your troubling meditation by Janine returning with a half dozen higher clergy, one of whom wore the clothes of a War Mother, "This is Sister Sabine, she comes with grave tidings from White Rock." Janine looks at you expectantly and you quickly try to summarize the events of the last few days, sipping water to stave off another coughing fit.