© IrishDesuBlack

Prologue

For He, Who Can Only Cry For Me.

Forest of old, turned to ash. Ruins rebuilt, prosperity, tyranny, and chaos; it starts.

Nestled in deep forest, where plains before now covered with gnarled roots and wet moss, Lady Meclah lies near awake.

Honey dripped hair covered with fallen leaves, now fly away as oak sap eyes open to the morning, she stares up into the sky as she feels the stillness of the early hours. Her ragged red robes wet with mildew just as her skin clammy from nightmares, she breathes, and with it the...