Perpetuating prayers for the long dead, the magical medium walks through the valley of a recent massacre.
The unrested and often unwilling lost souls are engulfed into the weavers unforgiving illuminating mechanism.
Chills crawl up the spines of locals from a diseased village as the soul weaver wanders into the graveyard, sets down his shuttering violet lantern, and sits meditating alongside it. Exercising the will of lost spirits and channeling them out of a contemporary contraption of dark emerald allurement. Devoting her soul to those she will never meet, maneuvering their essence and contorting their purpose into her own as she commands the battlefield.