empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
The grim destruction of the Grounds fails to mar the demigod’s satisfaction with LongNight. Trauma be damned, NPC deaths be damned, they did it. Homes can be rebuilt. if they didn’t eradicate them all, they took on the Monsters and survived with minimal unintentional deaths. She’s proud of her kin. Even if they hate her for this past week, she’s so goddamn fucking proud of them all for stepping and being (more or less) prepared.
But time doesn’t stop just because they did a BiG tHiNg. They couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to have the Order implode during the week, or the Heralds fall from sky. Blue eyes flash upwards before she enters the Temple and she knows it’s been too long since she’s spoken to her Lady.
For good reason. Neither of them can make more hours in the day or tell time to stop in its tracks. Deepfrost was for the Grounds. Flowerbirth is for the world.
The Wraith’s smooth hands run over the perfect marble of the Temple’s altar for a grateful moment. The Infernbow and her Leviathan scale clatter gently on the cold steps before her as she lays them down. “We live,” she murmurs quietly to the stone, knowing that the Voice will hear her good news and rejoice in her children, regardless of whether or not she chooses to appear. “Thank you for the upgrades. They saved our lives.”
Hadn’t the Wraith had faith that she would come through?
Of course she did. Even in her doubts about the newly returned, she knew they could do it.
The centuries-long reign of terror is over.
But time doesn’t stop just because they did a BiG tHiNg. They couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to have the Order implode during the week, or the Heralds fall from sky. Blue eyes flash upwards before she enters the Temple and she knows it’s been too long since she’s spoken to her Lady.
For good reason. Neither of them can make more hours in the day or tell time to stop in its tracks. Deepfrost was for the Grounds. Flowerbirth is for the world.
The Wraith’s smooth hands run over the perfect marble of the Temple’s altar for a grateful moment. The Infernbow and her Leviathan scale clatter gently on the cold steps before her as she lays them down. “We live,” she murmurs quietly to the stone, knowing that the Voice will hear her good news and rejoice in her children, regardless of whether or not she chooses to appear. “Thank you for the upgrades. They saved our lives.”
Hadn’t the Wraith had faith that she would come through?
Of course she did. Even in her doubts about the newly returned, she knew they could do it.
The centuries-long reign of terror is over.
WESSEX
