The parade upset her more than she had expected. It came down to two major factors in her mind; the first being that, for a supposed memorial in her honor, everyone was far too pleased with themselves. Streamers rained from the sky and the band was blaring out one of the many songs written in her honor. From her position in the alleyway, she could see the people who had joined her on the journey enjoying the praise of the people, she hesitated to call them companions and she was sure they were never friends. No, they were her leash and guard in case she was ever deemed uncontrollable and too much of a liability. She’d never been out and out told this but the fact that they never let their guard down around her over the course of the decade she’d known them was telling. She would have been fine with it if that was the only part of the parade that irked her but there was a second glaring insult that validated her choice in the final battle, and it was the statue. It was a nice statue from a technical perspective at least. It towered over the courtyard in the center of the city, made from gleaming white marble it was sure to be marveled at for decades. There was even a plaque in commemoration, carved in brass it read “Dedicated to the brave hero who gave his life for peace.” That was the problem though, the statue wasn’t of her she had no idea who the model had been. She remembered being told to always have her full armor on in public for the sake of security. She didn’t question it, just doing as she was told because it was all she knew. However, the fact that the people in charge hadn't even bothered to get her gender right almost made her want to pick up where the Necromancer King had left off and wipe this city off the map. She could too, thats why they were so scared of her. Smothering the impulse and turning back into the alley, Leah the Sacred Hero left the city for the last time.
Leah remembered when she made her choice to fake her death. It had been in the final days of the war and as usual she had been left to her own devices while the generals planned the next assault. Having nothing better to do she decided to return to her tent and try and get a brief rest before she was thrown to the front lines again. No one called out to Leah as she walked through the camp but that was normal, no one wanted to be near her after seeing her fight. The isolation had stopped hurting years ago, so she paid it no mind as she walked trying to ignore the whispers that followed. Finally making it to her tent Leah was free to dispel her armor which she did with relief. As the construct dissipated, she also changed out from her sweaty clothes into a fresh outfit. It was only then she collapsed into her sleeping roll and let herself fade into unconsciousness.
The dream began simply enough with what she hoped would happen when the war was over, and she was free of obligation. Leah had no huge aspirations rather she simply wanted the opportunity afforded to most other people, being able to learn a trade that gave to the world instead of took and living off her own work. It wasn’t the same each time, sometimes she was a tavern owner offering respite to weary travelers, or instead she was a blacksmith forging farm tools and other necessities for a grateful village. This time she was a book seller in a small town but then there was a change, instead of an idyllic storefront she was being led through a jeering crowd to an executioner's block. She was unable to resist as stones and rotten fruit pelted her body until she was made to kneel at the stone. A member of the state church was waiting for her and turned to address the crowd shouting, “For the crimes of witchcraft and treason this vile witch has been sentenced to death. May the Nine find it in their hearts to forgive her.” With this proclamation he turned to smile at Leah and whispered, “You’ve outlived your purpose, now be a good tool and die quietly.” Then she heard the ax fall and awoke sweating in her tent.