Do not be afraid of the dark
She looms, but she means no harm
Do not be afraid of the dark
Your enemy is the cold
The stars
The barren nest that welcomes you
Absence overwhelming
Shadows consuming
Do not be afraid of the dark
She was only ever a hostage to evil
Four broken eggshells. One egg missing entirely. Eaten? Either way, Gone.
Wings, gone.
Mate, gone.
Blood on the floor. Blood everywhere. Her underdeveloped young unprotected. vulnerable. Dead.
Weakness. She was weakness.
Worthless as well.
Orchids clutched in trembling hands covered in red cuts, mirrors shattered, her room in disarray.
Only a few living left.
They couldn't take care of it all.
They couldn't possibly take care of the ruins of a once grand now somber castle.
Even if it wasn't even in ruins.
Even if it was untouched by the raiders, who only came for one thing.
Her passion. Her pride. Her joy.
All of it. Gone.
Why did she live, when they all died?
Why just her wings, why not her life?
Where was her last child, the missing soul?
Clutching the flowers close to her chest, she tilted her head skyward delicate iron balcony filigree ceiling curling around stars, and soft clouds up above...
A silent prayer, for someone to come. Anyone. Anyone who could end her misery.
Fingers uncurling, the breeze took the flowers away, her eyes opening again as lanterns, soft like embers, floated upon the sky above. The survivor's mourning.
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