Plague is just as a life element as Nature, for its dragons revere survival over all. But that does not mean that Plague dragons do not honor the dead in their own way, for nothing lasts forever and all must change. So when it became clear to Tilphousia's clan that the young foundling was sensitive to the presence of spirits, hearing and even seeing them when they were not making themselves known, this did made her a trusted advisor rather than an outcast.

Her clan swiftly learned having Tilphousia's skills on their side gave them an edge in the harsh trials of the Abiding Boneyard, for the lingering dead there were happy to impart advice and warnings to their quick kin. Restless souls who died young guided the clan away from their downfalls, atoning for their failure to survive by helping those who still had a chance. More successful spirits shared their secrets for prolonged life.

Usually, the opportunity to leave an enduring legacy by bolstering the living gave the spirits closure and let them pass on. But other times, the ghosts Tilphousia saw roaming the Scarred Wasteland were just as scarred by their pasts. When possible she comforted these spirits, and sought justice on their behalf.

Tilphousia was also tasked with warning her clan of malevolent paranormal entities, and her elders taught her all they knew of spirit-lore and protective wards to make her as effective a shield against the supernatural as possible. Her duties were an immense weight on young shoulders, but she was determined to face her tasks with the inner and outer strength befitting a Plague dragon.

Out of devotion to her clan she ruthlessly repressed anything she saw as weakness in herself. She rarely asked for any help, believing it both a sign of weakness and futile, for her abilities were unique in her clan. For years as she crafted wards and took counsel with spirits she held her composure in a vise, while everything she pushed down gnawed at her mind from the inside out.

One day, as she crafted charms, she heard the bleak keening of a ghost. Upon investigating, she saw the hazy spirit of a wailing hatchling. Tilphousia spoke to it soothingly, and the spirit latched onto her kindness. It followed her around, and initially Tilphousia was relieved, thinking this would help her ease the spirit to reast. But its myriad griefs and anxieties were potent, and her conversations with it strengthened her own doubts more than she would admit to herself.

This pain steeled her determination to help the ghost. Each time she was wracked by second guesses and fears, she forced them away and willed herself to keep trying. And unknowingly, every time she tried to harden her resolve and destroy her “weaknesses,” she only made her mind more brittle, deepening the cracks that the little ghost seeped into.

Her continued failure to help the spirit was always in her thoughts, and loomed larger and larger in her mind until there was no escaping it. Tilphousia worked like a mad thing to do her duty to her clan and other spirits, all the while tending to the hatchling. Her desire to succeed grew into desperation to escape her burdens and the agony of being so weak. And all the while the hatchling demanded attention and comfort.

Finally something in Tilphousia snapped. She realized she could not help her clan and the hatchling in such a dreadfully obsessed state. She decided to leave before she made a fatal mistake, for her clan's own good, though the act nearly broke her. Her clanmates were disappointed to lose someone so trusted and useful, but respected her decision.

She set out near the northern border of the Plague realm, not paying attention to where she was going. Eventually she crossed into Dragonhome, and in a daze of determination and doubt Tilphousia did not turn back.

She can't remember, now, how long she spent in such a state. She paid more attention to the ghost's needs than her own as the obsession consumed her mind. Dragons she encountered tended to avoid her, not seeing but sensing the spirit that clung to her.

The first living soul she spoke to in ages was Altena. The older Spiral couldn't see hidden spirits as Tilphousia could, but she had something Tilphousia didn't- training. Altena recognized the symptoms of parasitic malevolence, and ushered Tilphousia to the Demesne to deal with the entity. When Altena started dispelling the spirit, Tilphousia erupted in rage and attacked her. But after neglecting herself for the spirit she was too weak to protect it from a physical threat, and she fainted as the spirit was wrenched out of her.

It took time for Tilphousia's mind, body, and soul to recover, as she restored her health and grappled with self-doubt for having succumbed in the first place- and needing a Nature dragon's saving. When she was able, she beat down her pride and asked Altena to teach her about spirits, so she would be better able to assist living and dead. The warden was happy to take her on as an apprentice (and have Tilphousia handle errands around her office in the meantime).

Tilphousia was surprised by how easily the living and dead mingle in Dragonhome, where memory is everything and history strides through the present. But for every honored fossil there are a dozen wrathful phantoms and vengeful skeleton wyrms. Someday, Tilphousia hopes to use her talents to help troubled spirits in Cairnstone return to their rest, and do what she can to protect dragons from the depredations of the forgotten in the depths of Greatwyrm's Breach. Until then, as she trains Tilphousia assists her mentor in her investigations, getting evidence directly from victims fresh and lingering, and delivering justice for the region's dead in the courts of the Demesne and its neighbors.