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The Lady Lune 




The mali wandered through her dark room, the candles snuffed of life as the 'thill took it from them wick-by-wick. She approached the wall which had held her hidden chamber, pressing a brick of stone which gently gave at her touch- giving off a flash of arcana, the lux of white gently withdrew the brick, and aswell a passageway within the walls. She took one last view of the brief place she had called home, the room now heavily barricaded and blocked- the Voidstalker making use of her talents to keep the place appear living. With no remorse, the 'thill passed through- upon the other end, a starry chamber which came to life at her presence. A view unto infinity, the elf uneagerly gandered the walls and ceiling of stars, then beginning her ritualistic preparation.


She smudged the floor gently, carving circles of enigmatic and abstruse design. Each movement of her pallid, thin arms allowed the spider to further seal her own fate. She had placed six candles of wolf's tallow, unevenly withheld by small ringlets within the circles drawn. She withdrew The Dictate to recluse within her arms- holding such close to her. Such a curse burdened the poor-thing so heavily. She flipped through, the content within inunderstandable to all but the mali. She muttered lowly, as gently a dark, dusty-black light arose from the ritual-circle drawn, a sound of a deep, low hum filling the chamber. As she continued to murmur quietly, slowly did the sound of a gentle piano begun. A lone composer amongst the stars, she gently began to turn with the melody. A slow shuffle, a dance with eternity, she allowed the book to delicately float from her grasp, flipping through it's own pages as she gently closed her eyes. There was a cold, as the chamber began to shift, a pressure bringing the chamber to a heavy weight despite the coming absence of breathable air. The cold had softly taken her hands, allowing himself to be taken to the dance by the lonesome 'thill. She lead so, the piano- slow, uneven, and unsettling, making poor fit to allow the isolated elf a proper sway in consonance.


As the dark light began to flood the chamber, the apparition of the frigid void stopped as it looked to the 'thill, her guise slowly unveiling. A weak, pathetic, manipulative spider was beneath the mask of a charming and powerful elf. Her dim, golden eyes viewed back to the faux-image of a lover she had created for herself, disappointment welling within her pale and still heart. 


She looked downward, as the weight of all she had created around her began to push her down. Her lies, her manipulation, her trauma, her failures - pushing the shunter down, as the floor began to pool the stars which had surrounded her. She fell through her circles, passing each candle as the final notes of the melody had finished, Anethra finally amongst the stars. A footnote in her time, forgotten by most and fearful of the rest. 






Upon a meadow and down the great hill,

Where the winters were frigid forever,

There lived a great and kind sorcerer 'thill,

She hid from men and gods oh-so-clever.


Where her friends had left for eternity,

She walked the planes and saw the dark abyss,

She witnessed her desired fraternity,

And knew she would be forever in bliss.


The Pale Lady conjured of dim moonlight,

Left by family and friend just alike,

The Lady Lune alone stalking the dark night,

Studying those whom she had once disliked.


And now she lives forever from despair,

Now that the terrible voices weren't there.



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