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[Lady Avella]

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From the diary of Lady Avella, citizen of Yew:


Monday March, 21 (evening)

Late dinner. Decided to meet a friend in New Haven to go hunting. We joined a few others at Oaks. Went very well. Took home over 3000 arrows and a good bit of gold. Not bad. Afterwards, we stopped to have a drink at the tavern in New Haven …we talked, laughed, drank an ale or two, then parted company. Still feeling restless I decided to go to Britain where I could sit and watch the people as they moved through the city doing their late night chores or going to or coming from hunts. Always a variety of folks and never dull.

After a time, I walked to a nearby inn to have a nightcap before returning home and bed. The bartender was a jovial fellow and, since there were few patrons at this late hour, he regaled me with stories of his sailing days. I will never understand what possess men to go to sea on such crafts, and with so many horrible sea monsters lurking in the depths, but he seemed to have survived with all his wits, so I listened and laughed and drank a bit too much. Near closing time the bartender, named Max, had to restock the bar and vanished to the storeroom leaving me alone …or so I thought.

Thinking I might be better off taking a room here instead of risking the journey home in my condition (a little more than tipsy) I turned to have a better look at the place and saw, sitting alone in one darkened corner, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. His countenance at once, caught my full attention. He sat alone seemingly lost in thought. His shoulder length hair was the color of the deep rich plums of summer. His armor was unlike anything I have ever seen. Handcrafted and engraved with the most intricate and amazing patterns. It was breathtaking in its beauty and complexity. But what captured me most were his eyes. Deep pools of black they shone with a strange and intoxicating inner light. I could not help but stare. He looked up from his thoughts and turned his gaze upon me. As our eyes met I felt myself forgetting all concerns of the night. Fear was not to be considered. My blood pulsed as if called by some ancient song.

He smiled and I shivered for his teeth were as white a bone. His mouth moved but I heard no words yet was sure he was inviting me to join him at his table. I blinked, unsure if I understood, but the invitation was unmistakable. My legs moved before I was aware of them and I found myself sitting opposite him at his table. His eyes saw through me into my very soul. I shivered. He spoke.

“Please allow me to introduce myself.” He said his name but for the life of me I cannot remember it.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice was music played upon a finely tuned harp, “what keeps a beautiful woman such as you out so late?”

I do not recall my answer but as we talked I felt myself drawn to him in the most unashamed fashion. His voice both burned and enticed and I found myself revealing my deepest passions and wildest dreams to this stranger. I had no will to break off the conversation. It was as if time itself had stopped; for what seemed moments, could have been hours or even days.

I remember little else after that. Not the closing of the bar, the leaving, or the parting of the gentleman’s company. I remember only that I found myself lying upon the front lawn of my house with the sun high overhead. I stumbled into bed, my head pounding, my body weak from drink and a strange metallic taste on my tongue.

[Lady Avella]

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Tuesday March 22 (late morning)

Awoke with a blinding headache. Lay in bed feeling horribly weak as if I had worked the fields like a peasant for days on end. A sleepiness unlike anything I have felt before permeates my body.

(Late afternoon) Awoke feeling refreshed…bathed and dressed. Looked over the mail and bills. The kitchen needs restocking…I found two wounds on my neck while bathing…not large but of some concern…probably from last night laying outside on the front lawn…Insects most likely…put healing potion on them to ward off infection. Traveled to Luna to shop.

(Evening) Became horribly sick after dinner…could not keep food down…a cold sweat enveloped me and I found myself standing in the dark of night in my rooftop garden staring at the moon as it rose over the hills. The breeze sifted through the garden and on it came a strange song…so light as to be on the edge of hearing…so distant as to believe it was not real…my ears rang and there was a strange buzzing in my brain…my fingers and palms itched…my scalp tingled. I wandered off to bed.

(Late night) I awoke in the black of night bathed in sweat…the most horrible dreams…much too horrible to speak of… I dare not write them down for to do so would give them life. My body is wracked with pain…my belly retches and I thirst…I thirst…and pray for sleep…blessed sleep.

[Lady Avella]

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Wednesday March, 23 (Afternoon)

By the Goddess what is happening to me?

I awoke to find my hair changing…it grows darker almost black…and my flesh…pale as chalk…I fight back panic and struggle to the bath…drink a strong potion of refreshment… felt better for a time but the weakness returned as did the sickness after eating. I am sure it will pass…I only need to rest…to bed.

(Early Evening) I visit a friend. She seems shocked at my paleness. I laugh and say it is a brief illness and will pass. She is concerned and asks if I have seen a healer. I hear her as if through a curtain of thick wool. Her voice struggles against the others… tiny voices surround me. I see deeper. I hear deeper.
She does not understand. How could she? She makes me swear to see a healer if I do not get better. I promise.
My lungs fill with the dark air that swirls around me.
My eyes become the color of night. I smile and promise her I will be fine.
Her voice trails away as the song within me grows.

(Late Evening) Voices…voices so soothing I feel they are the blessing I need to rid me of this illness.
I awake and dress in my darkest clothes…black as the night, black as my eyes, black as my hair.
I watch the sun set beyond the mountains…I am called…someone calls to me…I am compelled to go…but I know not where.

(Midnight) I found myself in New Haven but I do not remember how I got there or why…shadows…deep, deep shadows…I smell it on the air…the scent of…life.
I watch from the shadows as the people pass …I remain unseen…watching.
I can hear their hearts beating as they walk …a dog whimpers as it wanders by…what is wrong?
I look at my hands…they are covered in thick, steaming blood.
I scream and hide my face…the smell of blood is powerful…it washes over me like a prayer.
I touch my lips…so red…the hunger grows but for what I am not certain.
The song comes stronger now…the whispered voices louder; “come,” they say “come to us sister” they hiss…

His voice…His voice…the music…
His eyes follow me on the long road home. I lay in my bed. Breathing becomes harder…I gasp for air…sweet blessed air…
It is His voice that sooths me…His voice that heals me…

I fall asleep at sunrise.

Tomorrow I will feel better, I am sure of it.

[Lady Avella]

---

Thursday March 24 (Sunset)

I awake to the sound of…nothing. A churning in my ears. The seep of life as it slowly ebbs from my body.
I stand…I see many things.
In the shadows lie creatures that feed on the blood of others.
Creatures that feed on the life of all that surrounds them.
A hunger racks my body. A hunger unlike any I have ever felt.

(Midnight) I walk through the house of all things familiar, now strange.
I stand on a hilltop overlooking the town of Yew. The full moon lights the sky and shows me the path. I walk through the town unseen, unheard.
Dogs whimper and flee as I pass. I am a shadow. I sniff the air.
The blood here is rich and strong and pulses in the veins of the men and women, animals and birds.
Even the very snake that writhes in its den.
All give life to one who is loosing hers.

I feed on what I find. A dog…simple. Break the neck. Drain the blood. Simple. Basic. Honest.
Still my hunger rises unabated. I pause. Something reminds me of a friend. A friend who made me promise.
I ponder the word and find shame at what I am becoming.
I look at my hands. Pale. My fingernails long, black and sharp as claws.
I touch the blade at my side given to me by a friend.
How do I face those who would now banish me?

How do I find redemption?

Voices clear as my own whisper in my ear.

“Weee are your family now.” They hiss. “Weee are your only friends. Leave that life behind for there issss no redemption.”

I fall to my knees and cover my ears. Still the voices grow louder. A music that does not stop.
Sweet the sound and light the words that compel me.

“Ssssister.” They call. “Sissster.” They scream.

“No!” I cry out in the night and curse the moon.

Then He is there. Standing before me. His armor shines of its own light. I trace the lines of it with my black eyes. His face radiant in the night. Shining like the moon itself.

“Ssssister.” He says and my body writhes in pain. I cower before him.

“Ssssister.” He says again. “Fear me not for thou art becoming a true creature of the night. Feel thy power. Fear nothing for thou art beyond death. Thou art beyond friendship. Beyond fear.”

I weep at His feet. I am lost.

All that I have loved is vanquished by my own weakness; my own sin.

“Rise.” His voice is power. His command is all. I rise.

Bloody tears now streak my ashen face.

I stand helpless before him.

His touch burns me.

His bite becomes my only truth.

[Lady Avella]

---

Friday March 25 (Noon)

I wake at mid-day. The bedroom window is open and a fresh breeze carries with it the scent of spring flowers and apple blossoms. The sun filters through the leaded glass casting dancing shadows about the room. I feel refreshed, rested. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

A noise from downstairs. I rise, throw on a robe and creep down the stairs. In the kitchen I find my long time friend preparing food.

“There you are.” She says. Her voice is light and lyrical.

“Now. I have prepared some food for us and a concoction that will help you feel much better. My blessed grandmamma used to make this for me when I was ill.”

I stare at her and my hand instinctively moves to my neck. The wounds have healed.

“Now come,” she continues as she walks past me and up the spiral stairs to the roof. “We will sit in the garden and get some sun. You are much too pale and loosing much too much weight.”

She hands me a glass of something green and thick like mud. I am reminded of a saying my uncle had.

“If it looks like mud and smells like mud and tastes like mud. It is mud.”

Although I think his version had something to do with cows. I hold the drink up to the light. Yes mud.

Her voice floats down the stairs. “Come on now I have much to tell you.”

I climb the stairs to the roof garden. The sun is well past noon and the warm spring sun is sharp. I hesitate and shield my eyes from the glare. My friend is sitting under the elm tree. I cross the gap quickly and sit with her on one of the benches. She hands me a plate of food. Berries, nuts, sliced apple and fresh bread with butter. I sniff the plate. It smells like rotting carrion. I pass it back.

“Sorry no appetite.”

I rest my hands on my lap and notice that my fingernails are normal…not claws. I wonder if I was indeed stricken with some affliction of the brain that caused me to have the most vivid dreams. Waking dreams perhaps. I touch my teeth…normal.

My friend prattles on and on about her upcoming wedding while munching on the fruits and berries. Elves. Why must they be so immersed in things…so intense? I will be thankful when the event is over and she goes back to her normal boring self. I half listen nodding at the appropriate pauses but my thoughts are elsewhere. After a time she takes her leave but makes me promise to finish drinking her concoction. I toss it out once she is gone.

(Evening) I watch the sunset. It will be a clear cool night. The daylight lifted my spirits and some color has returned to my flesh.

(Late night) I awoke with a start around midnight. My skin was on fire as if burning from within. Seeking relief I climbed the stairs to the roof. The full moon glared down at me like an unforgiving master. The cold night air soothed my burning flesh. I walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. Movement on the ground. Glowing forms dart back and forth across the broad expanse of lawn to disappear under the trees. Animals? I realize suddenly and to my dismay that I was seeing the heat of their bodies…glowing in the night. I listened closely but there was no music, no voices. Yet faintly, at the very edge of hearing, I could hear the soft, steady beating of their hearts.

[Lady Avella]

---

Saturday March 26. (Evening)

Exhaustion. Hid in the house all day. Drew tight the heavy curtains.
Sunlight hurts my eyes and makes my skin crawl.
I sleep so deeply…so completely.
There are no dreams only the black of unknowing.

(Late night) Cries in the night. Wolves.
The crack of lightning. A scream.
A fog thicker than wool envelopes me.
My blood boils. He has come… outside…waiting…calling.

I rise and go out into the night. Out into his waiting arms.
There under the black sky…under the watchful eyes of wolves and the talons of owls, he takes me.
He senses my dread and drains me of my fear.
His fangs pierce my heart.
He drags me down into the well of my darkest passions.


A dream.

A child smiles up at me as I hover over her.
She is familiar. I know her.
Behind me HE stands whispering.

“Sheee is yours my love. A gift of blood.
Drain her…feeed upon her…she is of no importance.
A child of gypsies…homeless…a pickpocket…a thief to be punished.
For thisss is what we do.”

I turn toward him. His face shining. My hunger is insatiable…and yet…

A memory sears my brain.

“NO!” I scream. “I will not!”

His anger is swift. I am yanked from the ground and thrown against the wall of the building.
A force stronger than life itself holds me against the cold brick.
My body writhes with unending, blinding pain as if my very bones will be torn from my body.
My flesh burns. My blood boils.
His smile becomes a snarl as three of his daughters of the night grin and hiss.
They flow around me raking me with their talons.
I feel the sear of their claws as my flesh is torn and then, as swiftly as it began, it is over.
I am tossed aside like a rag doll to tend my wounds.
The night envelops me, lifts me gently and carries me to my bed.

[Lady Avella]

---

Sunday March 27th (Midnight)


I walked the busy streets of Britain listening to the echos of voices emanating from the inns and taverns. A chill night. The moon past full and sliding toward the horizon.

Music and singing wash across the cobbled streets followed by laughter. The night was alive, vibrant. I stood outside the inn where I found a path that led to my terror and pain. I watched from the shadows as patrons came and went. A drunken farmer leaves with a serving wench. A husband staggers home pausing now and again to steady himself.

My ears ring with their life. The pulse of their coming and going echoes in my brain.

I am pulled toward them, my hunger impossible to satisfy. I have fed on dogs, cats, rats and other creatures that have crossed my path. Nevertheless, I have yet to feed on the one prey that would grant me the most satisfaction. I fight the urge to drain them. I have disobeyed the commands of He who made me. How much longer I can bare it I know not for I feel myself growing weaker each night. One night soon I shall come to that crossroad, turn in one direction or another, and never look back.

“We honor the Virtues.” He hissed.

Honor? Justice? Compassion? Do I honor the weak by feeding on them?
Is it just to kill another in the name of Justice?
Do I show Compassion as I drain the life from them or turn them as you turned me?

Do I Humble myself in the caves of the orc as I snap their necks and drink their putrid blood or do I find Valor in the abyss?
I no longer walk in the realms of Spirituality for those magical creatures I once respected and admired will now destroy me on sight.
I walk among the undead as one of them and Wraiths ignore me. Do I kill them for sport?

I see now through a fog…nothing is clear.
The voices plead for me to arise and find the truth, to walk among the living and seek answers in the great libraries of this land. That I shall do.
Should you take sight of me, turn away.
Should you speak to me you will hear nothing but a hollow rasp.

(Daybreak) I follow the drunken husband. He turns down an alley and disappears…

the hunger grows…

[Lady Avella]

---

Monday March 28th (Dawn)

I wept tears of blood. I pleaded last night for release from this curse.
My body is no longer my own. It obeys only the hunger that drives me to commit acts of atrocious violence.
I no longer look at people but through them and yet there are things that remind me of my humanity. A book, a song or the face of a friend.

In the towns and cities the voices of the damned ring out.
The heartbeats of the innocent and guilty alike throb in my ears.
I walk among them but am not of them.
No longer the young girl who laughed easily into womanhood. I am ancient now.
Past caring about time or place I move across the land unmindful of the blood-trail I leave behind.

I listen to a new song. A song of fear and pity combined to create a new reality.

He promises that tonight will be the last.
His beautiful voice whispers to me. One more taste.
A single piercing of the flesh. A single breath and it will end.
There will be no more doubt. No more hesitation.
I will be complete. Free to follow my instincts.
Free to act according to mine own judgment.

(Sunset) I find myself outside the home of a friend. I know now why I am here.
The house is filled with the quite life of a scholar. A life dedicated to reflection and compromise.
Will she attempt to compromise or will she plead for her life and weep like one condemned without the possibility of pardon?

I pause at the doorstep and look at my hands. I feel the power and speak the words.

My black eyes pierce the gloom of evening. I look back toward the sun that now sits atop the horizon.

Daylight fades and my blood-red lips smile as the knowledge of what is to be flows through me.

A moment more and time releases me to my fate. I pull the cord and a bell jingles somewhere within.

I can smell her blood. Rich and pure it will sustain me for a time but it will not sedate the hunger.

Footsteps and the door opens. Her face beams at seeing an old friend.

She invites me in and, as I cross the threshold, I look back. He is standing there across the avenue.

His face gleams in the rising gloom. His red eyes flash. He smiles and nods.

I enter the house.

When it is done He will carry me to another world, another truth, a truth from which I can never return.

This is what I have become. Mistress of pain and darkness. Queen of blood I sit in judgment of their crimes.

They must bide well their time.

They must speak honestly or one day they may find it is I who stands upon their doorstep, holding in my hands the gift of the unholy.

“non omnis moriar”

[Lady Avella]

---

Monday, April 11th



Two weeks gone without the voice or song that drew me from my home and led me down this path.
No longer do I hear His call.

My transformation is complete; I am no longer as I was.

This hunger rises unabated.
I am driven by it.
Betrothed to it, I writhe in my bedchamber my passions unfulfilled.

My estate destroyed, my lands confiscated.
I am outcast, left to wander
empty, devoid of pleasure.

My days pass in the deep forests and putrid caves of this land where I snatch the life from whatever I find lurking there.
I drain them, and the power within grows me.
I speak the words and the dead rise to serve me.
My eyes are hollow, empty pits, doorways to the abyss.
My voice a shield by which I conquer.

My nights are spent in the great libraries where I ponder the tomes of knowledge that grace the shelves of Moonglow, Britain and Neyjelm.
Alone I wander the museums; my icy fingers touch the histories of those who passed before.

I shy away from all who knew me.
They speak to me but I hear only living blood pulsing through their veins.
I am no longer of them and yet I ache for their compassion and their smile.

There are others like me…born of this same terror.
They exist. I know for I can hear their songs on the winds at night.
Yet when I go to whence they were I find only the corpses of those upon whom they fed.
They are my brethren and yet they elude me.

I have set aside the armor of my past. Armor worn in battle for valor now gone.
I wear new armor …dark armor and a blade that drinks the life of all it touches.
Blood sustains me and, as I drink from the well of the misfortunate, I feel my strength return…
my power rises undiminished,
yet still this hunger grows.

I stand alone under the new moon and walk among the houses of the living
longing for the life within.

This is what I have become. A Dark Mistress who steals the night.
A woman of vile passions and secret spells.
A drinker of blood driven by a thirst that cannot be quenched and a hunger that cannot be satisfied.

My blade sustains me.

My voice gives power to the dead and my lips hide the secret of my being.

Do not pity me for to do so would invite me in and surely seal your fate.

Do not offer me friendship for I would drain you of your life and leave you yearning for those same voices of the night.

Be wary of shadows. Step lightly in the dark for I am here…waiting…

and my hunger grows…

[Lady Avella]

---

Wednesday, May 11th


A bridge outside Umbra:

Nine minutes past the hour.

I stand in the shadows on the western bridge and wait. Have I come for salvation, or to read the lips of those who deem me murderer? The pestilence that riles my body brings blood to my eyes and questions of unanswered fate. Yet still I wander the land in a vile search for the only substance I crave; the only substance I desire. The one who brought me to this place no longer sings. His voice is vacant from my ears yet his blood flows in my veins as freely as any lovers touch.

The men who stand before me make suggestions; plead for some method of control on my behalf. They say my mind will soon forget who I once was but not who, or rather ‘what’, I have become. Unless the one with hair the color of summer plums is found and destroyed I will remain as I am for all eternity or until they are forced to destroy me. Destroy me?

I look upon their faces and see fear and loathing. They seek to drive me from their lands into the wilds to feed on the blood of the corrupt and unworthy. It is they who are unworthy. Unworthy of my attentions. Unworthy of my embrace.

Murder they call it. Yet these humans seek war and bloodshed on a vast scale. They murder the young and leave their precious, sweet blood to seep into the earth as a waste byproduct of their greed. And they call me evil.

I stand on the Western bridge as the evening fog gathers in the vale. The hunger rises. The woman I was seeks salvation; the warm touch of a lover on a chill night; the kind words of a friend or the respectful obedience of a servant. The “other” I have become cares little for these trappings of life. Cares little for the hollow words of men who cannot, who do not wish to understand.

I will walk their cities unseen. Cull only those worthy of my embrace. I will seek out others of my kind who hold the answers that will serve me better than the fearful wishes of such men as these.

Control? Yes, I shall find ways to control this madness. Find ways to sedate the fire in my veins and remove myself from the petty fears of mortal man.


“aquila non capit muscas”

[Lady Avella]

---

May 23, (Evening)

The wind is calm in this grove of shadows.
Brought here by the Man in White, I stand apart from the others who have arrived.
They are strangers to me, yet they too have come here seeking answers to a riddle.
As the shadows deepen and the night crawls upon us
A man appears.
He is robed and hooded.
None can see his face.

He says nothing as we watch and wait.
His gaze falls upon us, each unto the other, as we stand in silence.
Then he speaks.
At the sound of his voice my mind reels.
My blood boils.
The very bones in my body crack and twist.
I fall to my knees in recognition of His voice, His song.

Long have I searched the wilds of these lands.
Long have I hidden in the deepest reassesses of my heart.
A cruelty unlike any before has befallen me.
Crimes have been committed.
Blood has been spilt.
His gaze falls upon me and I writhe in the pleasure of it.

“Rise child.” He commands.
I stand entranced, unable to speak
Unable to move.
He speaks to the others for a time.
His words wash over me like a bitter wind.
His voice, an echo of an earlier time.
A night long ago when I was sure of my life
Sure of my intentions.
Intentions taken from me by that Song.

His business concluded he watches the others leave.
When they have gone he turns his gaze once more upon me.
I feel his power ease into my flesh
He takes hold of my soul and tugs my hunger toward him.

“My Child.” He whispers. “Long have you suffered in the darkness.
Long have you wandered alone in this world.
Without guidance.
Without purpose.”

He pauses.
Tears of blood streak my face.
He speaks again.

“Know this my child. The time has come for such wanderings to end.”

He stands before me. His eyes burn into mine.

“I reclaim thee as my own,” he sings, “Thou shalt know no other.”

My breath leaves my body as my hunger rushes forth.

“Come,” he whispers, “come and learn thy true nature.
A new home awaits you…

…Your new life begins.”

[Lady Avella]

---

June 13: (Evening)


I stand before a shop window in the brilliant city of Trinsic
And study my reflection in the glass.
Behind me a servant, loaded down with dry goods,
Waits patiently.

I am, once again, a woman of standing.
Privy to the secrets of others who would sit in judgment of my past.
I wonder; will stories be written depicting us a victims?
Are the critics capable of objective observation?
Or will they count us among the less experienced?

A foolish heart often leaps before rational thought reaches for the ledge.

I cannot count the victims of such abuse
Even if the naked truth stands open to the unforgiving view of strangers.
In fullness we count ourselves lucky
To have escaped the wrath
Of our own self loathing.

Time…time…and the course of human lives.
I smile and see in the glass a reflection of my former self;
Innocent, naïve, trusting.
And then I turn.

Behind me, He stands smiling down at me.
I awake from my stupor and look back to the window
The glass of the shop lies broken and shattered.
He whispers to me
And the night becomes
My only salvation.

The daylight, my most spiteful enemy.

[Lady Avella]

---

Thursday, June 30 (moonset)

I rise now to a different music
Long have I slept, dreaming of black cats
They prowl the outer reaches of my senses
Their cries become the wailing of fallen souls

Blood
Rich, pure…untainted
The eyes of another now carry me across the night
Twist my loyalties and tug my soul from He who made me

How many nights I have fed on this sweetest of blood?
How many nights I have forgotten all that came before?
I breathe this blood
Yearn for it
Hunt for it

I writhe on the air
Naked in my sepulcher
As the heavy stone is lifted
Above me now only the wings of angels
And the blood they shed in the name of love

My hunger now rages in but one direction
And the blood I drink is beyond my understanding
For I am Avella, Lady of the Night
Kindred to a fallen host and lover to a
Fallen angel

[Lady Avella]

---

Tuesday Aug, 9th: (Moonrise)

Rain.

I stand on the steep angled steps of the mausoleum as a late summer rain
Runs in rivulets around my naked feet.
Long black hair clings to my shoulders and chest as I raise my face to the dark wet sky.
I open my arms to the thunder of life.
How long My Gracious Lord?
How long must I suffer these indignities at the hands of mortals?

I rage against the pulse of their beating hearts.
I howl at their putrid excuses and their pathetic lives.
They live. To what end? To taste the poisoned breath of their lovers kiss?
Their eyes tear at my soul.
Their laughter stabs at my heart.
Their very nature has become abhorrent to me.

Kiss me Wolf Servant of the Shadow Mountains!
I cup your ashen face in my blood stained hands and stare into your soul.
Will you lay with me?
Will you take my hand and walk into the darkness or
Will you seek me out when the sun burns all the earth?

My screams of rage fall against the silent trees.
My tears of blood are seen by none.
Can you not feel my agony?
Will you not tear this heart from my lifeless chest and
Leave me to lie silent in the dust of your forgiveness?

I stand on the steep, angled steps of the mausoleum
My arms outstretched like the wings of Ter Mur
My black claws dripping with deadly rain as
My bone-white fangs pierce the living flesh of night.

I am not yours. Neither yours nor His.
Neither mine nor theirs.
I am naught but the ghost of a mortal child
Whose hunger knows no satisfaction.

Free me!

[Lady Avella]

---

Monday, August 29 (late night)


They have removed the wooden spear from my breast...
The iron key spins in the lock and I stand free once more under the night sky...

The night... how I yearn for it... how I beg for it...
I hear the howling of wolves in the valley below and with them
flows the sound of battle...

I smile... My bone white fangs flash in the moonlight...
How proper the scent of blood on the wind...

How pungent the taste of death...

Human... Wolf... Kindred...

That night in the tavern... on the road... was it real?
Was the fire that burned in your eyes kindled by wishful thinking or

Were the words of one's own enemy enough to cause this brittle glass to break?

I wonder...