Bearclaw Valley some kind of soul come from within us

Ears filled with their whispers and eyes feeling as though they were blackened and filled with their desires. She could not withhold a laugh at times, one filled with some sort of madness. She felt as though overtaken by them -- by what she did not know for sure -- something -- something that called to her and something that would bless these children and make sure that they would live good lives in service to things, just as they both had.

Sithis, she spoke, a word that did not often cross her lips, perhaps because her worship was often much more abstract and she listened to all those who pulled, not just the one deity above it all, not just the void. But powerful blessings required powerful beings, now. Pale eyes dancing with madness, with fulfilment, as she painted Astara's belly red, as they were just Astara and Averna for but a mere moment. Sithis, bless these spiderlings and care as though they were your own. Make sure they hear the whispers, she thought to herself, for a life without spirits seemed dull and meaningless to her. She saw it all around her, all the time, in all of the wolves' vacant expressions. Let them live better lives than that.

Never before had she felt so powerful. It was maddening, exhilarating, engulfing.