They are Four

I met the one called Zalia first. She introduced herself as Jennifer; an illusion dispelled later. She spoke freely about her past and present, how she murdered her mother and came into the service of her father, a devil, and later that of a different devil, Andros. Her life is simultaneously tragic and objectionable. She has never known anything beyond servitude in one form or the other. She has extinguished countless lives at the behest of evil incarnate. She puts on a flirty and confident exterior, and I wonder if that is a cry for help. The Living Ancestors are split on the matter. Some express revulsion, others call for violence, the rest urge caution. Godwin told the tale of Izdubar. A complicated man who brought untold death and provoked the ruin of his people. He made a covenant to atone in perpetuity. He chose redemption, he laboured to be redeemed, redemption found him. I shall advocate the same to Zalia.
 
Then I met the one called Jane. A blue-skinned woman whose soul has reincarnated for a long time. She knows Zalia and may be one of very few to express worry for her well-being. She seemed puzzled at my existence, she asked probing questions, I answered. Our two natures are abnormal, a shared bond of destinies. She was quick to compliment my appearance. I feel inclined to reciprocate, and so I shall.
 
The one called Ki’tor came after. A curious man who finds himself at a juncture in his life. He stands before a choice, though I know not the alternatives. He wanted to understand the Ancestors’ condemnation. He wanted to understand Pierre-Pascal, how his relatives viewed his actions. I gather that his family is vast and unforgiving. I have canvassed, and I will encourage Ki'tor to choose the right path. He is not alone. If he diverges unto wickedness, he will be.
 
Last to make introductions was the one called Volodomyr. A holy man, a priest of Aurora. Many of the Living Ancestors relate. His chief concern seems to be his deceased wife. He is perceptive, observant, more dangerous than he seems. The hope he nurtures may well develop into manic obsession. That cannot come to pass. He is an honourable man, deserving of a better life. Ruin ill suits him. And he could do with more tact and self-confidence. Expressing admiration for another soul is not something to conceal.
 
A vibrant troupe of troubled types. Save for Jane, they all express dormant, imminent, or apparent struggles. I wonder if they regard me in similar worriment? I must appear very strange.