Sylva had become her home, more so than any other she had known. The multicolored leaves overhead provided shade and safety for those who swore fealty to it’s king. To those who cursed them, however, it had become a prison. Blood and torment were in no short supply within the border of their land. While other kingdoms filled themselves with the sound of friendly conversation, Sylva seethed with the remnants of the suffering it inflicted upon their prisoners and the laughter of those who inflicted it.
She was a part of them now. Her surrender to the darkness had been like the release of a breath held for far too long. Now, she’d become unrecognizable, no longer the pitifully dull creature she’d once been. The weight of her growing wings upon her back and the points to her crown of horns upon her head were proof of the changes she’d succumbed to. She was fear itself, the red glow of her aura following wherever she led. It was her loyal servant, always ready to do her biding. The fairies’ curse had become their greatest gift. In turn, it had served to crown her queen of the darkness and she was pleased to keep it that way.
Slinking through the forest, as she often did throughout the quiet moments of the day, she trained her ears to the farthest corner of their territory. Achingly deprived of new comers she had been forced to content herself to those who had already fallen prey to their hunger for blood. Even that novelty, however, was beginning to grow stale. Desperately she longed for something of substance to occupy her time.
@[Modicum Mortem]