Image credit to: Dasha444
She lie on the ground, brunette hair fanned out around her, black jubah, berjubah torn and marred. Silver moonlight filtered through the pine trees and cast itself on drops of dew.
Castellé couldn't say how long, for certain, that she'd been lying there, lips parted, gazing it the stars.
But it certainly wasn't, and would never truly be long enough.
The takeover was fast coming.
No one could stop it now. It had been long in the making.
All there was left to do was lay and wait for her time to come too. Just like those whom had gone before her.
Just like those already claimed sejak The Mystings.
They were...
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