Zariel woke the next morning feeling more rested than she had in weeks. How long had it been since she had slept a night through with no nightmares? After breaking her morning fast with some fruit and berries she found near a stream outside the cabin, Zariel gave her thanks to all the elements for providing her sustinence. She did her best to tidy up around Sylus' cabin and left a bouquet of wildflowers on the table for him to find when he returned. As the sun climbed higher into the skies, Zariel knew she should return back to the Hall of the Guardians. She had been away for several days now and she was worried that the others might be looking for her. So, she set out to begin the trek home to Westbridge, prefering to walk than create a moonwell home.

As she got nearer to the gates of the city, Zariel could sense something very wrong. The breeze seemed to whisper of impending doom and misery. She shivered a bit and pulled her cloak tightly about her shoulders, trying to ward off a chill that existed only in her mind. The stench of decaying flesh assaulted her senses as she journeyed towards the heart of the city. Then, she saw one of them. A half-elf huddled in an alley, sobbing in misery as cruel sores oozed puss and blood from lesions on his skin.

At first, Zariel shrank back in horror at the sight of him. But she remembered the vows she had made to both her father and Lady Hanali. Her heart ached for the agony the young man must be feeling, and she immediately offered prayers to Hanali for help in relieving the suffering she was encountering in the victim. The elven lass hurriedly searched her things, hoping to find the right combinations of roots and twigs and potions to cure the dreaded ailment. "Earth, help me to mix the right components to end suffering." Chanting the healing words she knew to cure plague, Zariel's hands began to glow a pale blue as they rested upon the man's arm. She gave all her thought and concentration to the spell, but after some moments, it was apparent that her words and her poltice had no effect upon the victim. After several other failed attempts at spells and natural remedies, Zariel saw the futility of her tries and she resigned herself to trying to give what little comfort she could to the poor souls she met along the roads, be it simply a root to eat or fresh water to drink.

Everywhere, rumors of a mysterious stranger swirled around her. He had a death's head, some said. Others spoke of orbs of fire in place of his eyes. He held a curious walking stick, someone had told her, its head resembling the looming danger in the skies - ragnarok. One thing all agreed upon - the rotting death that now consumed the city began with a green mist spewed forth from the stranger's mouth. All the greatest healers and scientists in the realms had gathered to study the horrible disease and try to find a cure. Zariel prayed that it would be soon. The moans and cries of the afflicted brought her to tears as she tried to offer what poor comfort she could. She knew the terrible price she would pay for this assistance, but still, she could not turn away from so many suffering.

Eventually, she returned, weary and somber, to her clan home. The illness had invaded even these protected halls, striking Maxell the healer with the oozing lesions. Zariel spoke with him some minutes, trying to ease his pain and fears before going off to the garden to meditate and pray for Hanali's blessings to allieviate the pain of the innocents across the realms. "Father, I know there be much in heaven to keep ye busy, but there be mana innocents here who could use ye help, an the cure be known to ye. Please help us," she whispered, trusting that he would hear her and do whatever was in his power. As the sun dipped low in the skies, Zariel returned to the alternate healing room in the hall to sup with the other Guardians before retiring for sleep. All of them realized that the days ahead would test all of them in ways never dreamed before. The question left to be answered was: Would they pass the test?