Kormak and Jaryn stood in silence, side by side, amidst the carnage in Myrna’s Grove. Whatever tears were to be shed had already fallen and now reigned a stoic quiet, broken only by the chirping of crickets who seemed content to resume their song now that the chaos of the battle had subsided.
Digits intertwine, as lips envelope mine,
Far beneath grounds deep-frozen, Sits a man in posture lonesome,
A fork in the road, Are you there my sweet stork?
It is I
Crouched amidst thorns and encroaching briars, Hear her scream, her unearthly howls,
Alessia watched from the balcony of the castle as the long column of victorious soldiers filed through the city gates far below. At their head, she knew, though she couldn’t see him clearly from her vigil, rode her brother, Marius.
Let us pray for moon-kissed darkness, Deep-set scars, and consuming sadness,
On cotton covered throne she curls, A podium of swift-shed morals
Known they, the Sisters of Wrath and Woe, Ever the Devil track’d ere they go.