Teranca Talks To Pusillin About Lenaes Growing Doubt About the Light

The Letter From Teranca

To the Incorrigible and Irredeemable Pusillin,
Flickering Menace of Minor Realms,

I write this in a rare moment of something resembling… reflection. Don’t get smug—I’m not about to feel things. That would require at least two fewer soul shards and three more glasses of blood creamer.

It’s about my sister, Lenae.

You remember her—the one who still glowed like a broken sunlamp and actually believed in things? She’s always been devout, Light-bound, painfully noble. The sort who heals first and asks if you deserved it later. But lately… cracks. Little ones. I’ve seen them in the way she holds her staff, in the pause before a blessing. Doubt. The first warm symptom of reason.

She hasn’t said anything directly—too proud—but her Light’s dimming. Not in power, mind you; she could still smite a felguard through a granite wall. But in intent. I watched her hesitate before curing a soldier the other day. Said the wound "belonged" to him. That it taught something. That isn’t Light-talk, Pusillin. That’s us.

She even asked me about balance. Not to mock me (for once), but genuinely. Like she’s finally realizing the Light isn’t some perfect force, but a narrow, blinding road that cuts out half the sky.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Part of me wants to shake her and say “Finally!” Another part wonders if this is just a phase—the same kind of spiritual flu I had right before I burned down a chapel and started drinking mana straight from the source.

And before you get clever—no, I am not going to corrupt her. She’s not a potion to be bottled or a demon to be bound. She’s my sister. Even if she did once try to “cleanse” my soul shards with a hymnal and bless my alchemy lab (which exploded).

I’m not asking for advice. I’m just… observing. If you have insight, I’ll take it—buried under ten layers of irreverent nonsense, of course. But don’t mistake this for sentiment.

If you do, I’ll set your tail on fire.

Again.

T.

Pusillin's Reply

To the Magnificently Moody Teranca,
Soul-Flayer Supreme and Dispenser of Emotional Repression,

Awwwwwwwwwwww.
Your little glowstick sister is questioning faith and you’re getting all broody about it? My stars, Teranca, if I had tear ducts, I’d cry. But I don't, so instead I laughed until a felhound choked on its own foot. (It was fine, it grows back.)

Let’s take this apart like an imp at a cursed toy factory, shall we?

Lightbound turning lukewarm? Not new. Not rare. You just never noticed because you were too busy screaming at the cosmos and licking arcane crystals for fun. But it always starts like this: a pause, a frown, a question whispered before the prayer. The Light doesn’t like questions. It’s a spotlight, not a mirror. Once a soul starts reflecting, the cracks show up like demon piss on a cold altar.

But your sister? Ohhh, she’s doing it right. The doubt isn’t weakness. It’s friction. And friction makes fire. Maybe she’s just tired of glowing for people who would rather stab her and scream “Bless you!” after. Or maybe she’s realizing the Light’s got just as much blood on its hands as the Fel—it’s just better at marketing.

Let me guess: you want to "help" her. HA. That’s rich. What will you do? Brew her a soul-cleansing tea? Invite her to a demon lecture series? Set her shadow on fire and say, “Welcome to enlightenment, darling!”

No. You’ll sit there and worry like a fancy cursed gargoyle. Because deep down, you care. Not in the squishy way—no no, in the "this is mine and the universe is not allowed to break it without going through me" way. Which is arguably worse.

Here’s my advice:
Do nothing.
Let her burn. Let her Light flicker. Let her decide if the shadow scares her or seduces her. If she falls, you’ll be there. If she doesn’t, you’ll be there angrier, but still there.

And if she ends up like you?

Well, then I get two sisters to annoy. And that, Teranca, is the real blessing.

Hugs like a binding contract,
Pusillin
Imp, Iconoclast, Instigator
Warden of Secrets You Pretend Not to Feel
P.S. I left a tiny Lightwarden in your reagent jar. Don’t worry, it only screams when you doubt yourself.