"She wrote the stories of her greatest tragedies with an inkless quill upon parchments of waters to nev'r remember the pain; but they chased her relentlessly no matter how far she fled"
~
The Underground Oubliette of slavery,
Northern Faction,
Kingdom of Hyll-Decanta,
The first Phrinight of the Second month,
Fiftieth Year of the Reign of Adon-Vericus IV
The dark cell was as cold as a numbing wedge of ice, with no means of solace there-from. Mercedes Duvessa sighed heavily, as puffs of warm breath wafted out in clouds.
However, it was fairer a life she had been bestowed therein, as opposed to her royal life that had more shackles than freedom. Her escape had granted her the first instance in all her years to set eyes on the variety of the earth beyond the horizons of her Castle in Tristendyre.
