"ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴏᴜʟ."
Tastrim is a town of God, a close-knit community isolated within a forest-clad valley. When winter comes and the pass is filled with snow, folk light their fires, lock their...
"They are already under a sentence of condemnation to hell. They do not only justly deserve to be cast down thither, but the sentence of the law of God, that eternal and immutable rule of righteousness that God has fixed between him and mankind, is gone out against them, and stands against them; so that they are bound over already to hell." – Jonathan Edwards
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Songs:
Dark Magic Music - Salem's Secret
Outlast 2 Soundtrack/Music - Marta Patrol Theme
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Hands hauled up my body from the snow. Strong arms cradled me away to a place of warmth. My father. I could hear his voice, hear him calling for help. He alone had dared to come out and search for me. He had my screams, and no amount of fear of the demon could keep him from his daughter. Luckily for him, Zibarath had already gone. I heard the worried murmurs in the town, the crowds pressing close. Fear had come to nest in Tastrim, and had insulated its home with the discovery of my broken, exhausted body. My eyes were open, and glazed. I knew this, and there was nothing I could do. I watched the elder women hover over me like doves as my father watched me with broken eyes. I felt their soft hands on me. Searching for wounds, finding none.
Zibarath could not kill his only remaining servant. This realization brought me no comfort.
No one bothered to search for Witch Mother. They knew. They had to know. But they still talked about her. Witch Mother hasn't woken yet. Witch Mother is recovering. Witch Mother fought off the beast. Witch Mother will protect us.
But she was dead. Witch Mother . . . was dead.
A full day passed. I lay catatonic, and watched the snow fall from a grey sky out the window. I watched as gentle tendrils of smoke curled from the incense that was left to burn at my bedside. I was in the healer's home; I would see the gentle, elderly woman frequently throughout the day. She would put warm broth to my lips and I let it slip down my throat. She kept the fire burning brightly. She sang hymns to me.
