Anger, rage and tears

"How could we have been tricked so badly?", Elektra raged to herself.
In her transformed celestial arms, she carried a petrified body of a woman, suspected of being the cherished Sylira, for whom this ill fated expedition was sent to save... And now... Perhaps she was dead ! Not by the hands of the Lich ... But by our own!
Over and over again, she relived the moments in the thick fog in the Vale of the dead. The seeming endless assault of increasingly powerful undead, sapping our spells and vigor.
The Lich , what we thought was Sylira , and some undead monster holding her, ready to execute at a simple word by this Lich.
In hindsight it was clear... Nothing was as it seemed... even our suspicions of trickery were so far off and wrong.
We thought we were attacking the Lich... In hopes of capturing it with a petrify scroll... And when violence erupted , the spells were cast and it all went wrong...
   The illusion that we believed was Sylira was not ... And what we believed was the Lich... Was not ...
And now , it seems that the deception was so profound... That WE petrified the very person we came to save!
 Elektra agonized, as she carried the delicate stone form in her celestial arms like a mother would caress her child.
Each step went unnoticed until they stopped at the feet of the priestess in the Temple of Plenty, where strong celestial arms set the petrified body down as if it were fragile glass.
Returning to normal human form , Elektra nearly shouted , in her anxiety , at the priestess.
"Bring this person back to life! I will pay what ever you ask!"
... And so it was done... First stone to flesh... Then , death to life.
Elektra could only hold Sylira in her arms and weep ... Weep for joy, weep for shame... Weep in rage.
Under her breath, she vowed vengeance...

The fog lifted - Sylira hoped for the last time. She was very very tired of fog before her eyes. And fog in her mind. From the garden at the House of Plenty she asked for parchment, ink, quill and sand. When the attending sister asked if she felt up to writing the red-headed priestess had to laugh.  "The day I can't scribble on a scroll is the day the Dark Lord songs a duet with the Mistress of the Revels.  Don't worry."

Sylira chewed on the quill as she considered her words. The priestess had told her who had brought her in and in what condition, but her memories were so fragmentary that what she recalled had little bearing on her final state that fateful day. She knew that anything she could relate might be helpful, maybe even important, but it was going to be hard to sort out what was real from the fog.  Still, it was important that she begin the process of recovery, and writing was her forte. 

Dearheart, 

My thanks are inadequate and small recompense for what you've done, but that is all I have at the moment. I've had very little coherent thought over the last tenday.  But one memory does shine forth clearly - that is seeing your sweet face emerging from the fog in that deadly vale. And I knew that you had come for me. And would not leave without me. You are my true hero and I thank the gods for you - and have done so every since awakening here in the temple. 

My memory is so indecipherable - curiously doubled. You were talking to me, but it wasn't me. I was talking to all of you, but it wasn't me. And I think I knew some of the others but I can't recall who or how I know them. The enemy - I cannot say any other name for her, my mind is mush - the enemy came to me in another guise, and touched me, and the fog came down. There are thoughts and visions of what might have happened after that, I will spend my time trying to discern fact from fancy. I feel there are things you will wish to know, I will try to bring the true memories to light.  And I hope you will relate to me the other people that were there in that confrontation so I may give them proper thanks as well, they deserve my heartfelt appreciation. 

But I have the one memory that matters most. You came.  And I live, free once more. Words cannot express the grace I feel with this. Thank you, over and over again. 

Love
Sylira

She sanded the note, folded and sealed it, and addressed it to "Elektra Mysteria, headmistress of Misty Falls". Then asked for prompt delivery from the healers at the House of Plenty.