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The Epilogue of one, Kypris'dionne.

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I Heard a Woman Weeping in the Woods

By Luv





A beachside manor stood just along the coast which resided on the edge of the dense woods. These woods, home to the Wood Elves of Axios, were dense and covered a large portion of the area. Urban legends spread of a ghost seen in those woods, along that beach. The lavishly dressed lady would always be depicted as frantic, but in some incidences described as mentally unstable. She couldn’t seem to remember her way back to that house.


Ghosts are not real, right? There’s no way that someone who is dead could be… Not dead? If she really was a ghost, or even real, what happened to her? Why does she linger in those woods? Why does the walk the shoreline still? 


((More of a creative writing post about the beginning of my  character’s ghostly experience. The writing below comes from the perspective of my character’s soul trapped in a state of limbo and uncertainty.))




The breath I cannot take burns me.


It is smoke in my lungs and throat. As if I had inhaled fumes from a burning flame, and then held my lungs cruelly waiting. My mouth open, throat scorching, unable to pull in air. My chest, the horrible pain vibrating from my heart.


My limbs and muscles refuse to move. I cannot breathe. I am choking. The heat roars to indescribable temperature. The stillness spreads to my chest and limbs. I want to scream, to tear at my face, to wail—but I am trapped. I cannot move. I cannot move.




I must remember. I must remem—


The house. I lost control. What have I done? I was so naive. The very things I wished for, formed in ranks against me. I made them. Robbed their mother from them. I was becoming the monster he wanted. I was known for my savagery, their mother was too. As I reaped, I reforged my motivations into a better approximation of your true shape. Desperately, I consumed more and more, hoping for the briefest echo of what I once was. Instead, like a fire, I burned too quickly, destroying everything in my wake.




It was a beautiful day when I went to meet him. I hope the girls weren’t as excited about the trip as me? What if no one ever lets them out? Who is gonna keep Illidar company? I’m in this prison. The horror of that idea feeds my mania. The story of one, Kypris’dionne is ending. I can feel it. I have to get myself back up. I must… I must...


I have no hands. I have no feet at the end of my legs. I can’t get up. The darkness binds me, like a coffin.


No. I force myself upright. But I can’t know if it is working. I don’t know anything, only the darkness.

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[”]My holiest city was sacred in spite of Harren’s rejection, it is spoiled by the blood of kin. Thou betrayest man with thy wrath, and once again Horen’s son are divided." And Owyn cried out “O Lord, forgive me.” And GOD spake again. “That which is done is not undone, for the lords of this land have seen thy sin.[”]
- Scroll of the Gospels: Owyn, Given to We the Faithful by the Exalted Prophet Godfrey.


Alwin Sintel washed the sweat from his face, another nightmare. He crept from his bed, finding himself in the pool at the bottom of his cave, that gave life to the herbs he’d been farming.

Cracks in the walls let in moonight, beneath which he sat – on the glassy water’s surface, as if it were solid ground – and contemplated.

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Maya somewhere is wondering where the **** is  Kypris. 

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