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" 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳: 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?"
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The Old Gods are dead, declared he wearing blood like frothing wine. They always have been, child. Walking half-corpses bathing in witching hours, whispering unholy and vile contradictions. But rejoice . . . because afresh salvation is all things kinder. And suddenly, the fairy-doused spirit of a girl has her wings cut, flowery stems ripped from her hands, emerald vines reduced to paganism.
A name, hollered from spring-time lips, congealing to ash.
Elaine, Elaine, Elaine.
Grail Maiden of forsaken heritage, a hybrid's undoing streamlining in her scarlet veins, had been wrought with hard-mouthed synonyms. Robbed of the person she thought would live forever, smoke-scorched wings unfurling into a world as damaged as this one, and the same that has ignited inside her blazes inside another.
All because the past refuses, amidst an iron-fist and crushing bones, to never simply die gently.
