musickeeper

Curtains hung on the windows, refusing to let the day in. The dark corridors hold a mystery, the castle a forbidden venture. The Lady walks down these halls. Her face held high, and her gaze swept low, she hates all she sees. Yet she is loved, for the wintry villages all shut with snow see her as the spring and look upon her with admiration. Fallen is the angel, and fallen is the spring. No longer does the sorceress control the cursed, and no longer does she control the damned. They have been set free, and the clouds that fly are dark with their shadow. They fly with no chain, and seep their way into her heart. So kind a heart can be, yet fil