It's an old song, it vibrates beneath my skin, it lulls me to sleep at the darkest of nights, it's my armour against tragedies. Time has seen what become of a tale long forgotten, tattered and ragged through dust and Web of treachery. The question yet remains. Where lays the truth? For often, time too deceives, it paints the evil in the color of valour, carving enchanted and precious jewels upon the head of a theif. I have learn the art of Deceit, treachery run within my soul, I kill for amusement, I drink their blood and gulp down their essence. I am the one menacing of all. Or so they have all concluded. I couldn't care less. I have purpose beyond their understanding. What often keeps me up at night is a day dream, it lures me in the abyss of memories, of lives, I have lived and lost. It's not all majestic, dazzling dresses and ragged robes, lavishing castles and a small hole, delightful feasts and empty stomachs. I have seen all. But what draws me close every time is the magnificent hue of an aurora. They thought my tale came to an end. Unaware of the many faces I wore. Ignorant of the numerous names I bore. I am the insane witch. The terror of Eraundexelle. First of her name. The Queen of Death. Morana. *~ *~ *~ It was an old lore that Rhea came across, lost was the language it bore, lost were people who saw. It was the night of eclipse. Two roads. And a troubled teenager who suffered with alters that took her hold, when the winds were ruthless and the ocean too deep, when her mind broke at edges, when memories became to much to endure. The time clashes, bringing memories of past and those that are yet to be made, the criminal tells her tale, the truth fights to roase above and evil lurks in every corner. Now, Rhea must choose her alliance, for its time of doom. The problem? Evil resides close. For it is a world of deciets and survival. Only the most wicked shall see the light of the day. Started - 20th July 2022.