[spoiler]Open! Meet Cammy.[/spoiler][i]Awaken. Why art thou silent? Why dost thou sleep? Awaken, Sturmheilige. Our God waits no longer.[/i] Camilla woke with a start, her head swiveling left to right, up and down; where was the voice? Where was it? She had to find it. She pushed herself off the dirt ground she had been lying upon in a blind frenzy. Her surroundings were a blur; all she could see was red. Where was the voice? The saint stumbled around confusedly. At one point, she crashed into a wall; she staggered backwards, and in her disconcerted state of being, she would trip over her heels and fall on her back. But the impact didn’t do anything to clarify her senses. No, it was her reflection that appeared when she pushed herself off the ground for the second time in a couple of minutes; the sight of her deranged self in a shallow puddle of water. Messy, shoulder-length dirty blonde hair that hung at the sides of her round face, untamed and wild. A fair skin tone, with small splotches of freckles on her cheekbones and the tip of her small, perky nose. Her thin lips were slightly parted; she was unconsciously breathing quite heavily. Perspiration had formulated on Camilla’s forehead, and it wasn’t from physical exertion. Camilla’s eyes cleared, and her senses returned. She lifted her head and forced herself up, taking a good look at where she was; trying to recall what she’d been doing before she dozed. It was evening. The sun was slowly drifting beyond the horizon, and the sky was painted in dozens of different warm colors. The few, large, isolated clouds that drifted through the heavens were the canvases for the sun’s artistic medium; they were conglomerations of fiery light, inhumanly beautiful. The saint had crashed into the ruins of an old church in Dojoville, one of the many buildings that recently been burned to the ground. The walls were black and charred, with dilapidated, wooden beams collapsed into what was once the church’s interior. It was only made darker and deader by the glorious sunset. As Camilla gazed around the church, her eyes widened. What had attracted her to such a place? Was it coincidental? Either way, there were many conflicting emotions that warred for control over Camilla. Memories came flooding back–no, no. She had to get out of there. Without a second thought, Camilla sprinted out of the church, into the empty streets of Dojoville. Now, she asked herself the million dollar question; what on Earth was she doing here? Oh, right. She had come to the Dojo with her group. Her companions, her friends; where were they? “Hello? Anybody out there?” She called out. Her voice seemed drained of her usual energy as it echoed through the town’s the ruins. Perhaps the calling of a lonesome crow would not be the only response she’d receive.