Phantom Hollow oh, who is she?

She became a banshee at the rumble of his voice, shrill, sharp, and rising from a place deep, deep, deep, and long buried. Unnerving. The birds scattered from the trees, a cacophany of crowsong, and though Melaneus glanced towards them, he remained impassive, save for the flicker of a smile along the dark lines of his jaw.

Though cushioned in mania, his name on her tongue refreshed him like the moon on a clear night. When was the last time he'd heard anyone say it? How strange, to hear it now.

Metis, he said - his sister who seemed to have shrunk in every way he'd grown. Who was more alive, heartbeating, than all of his memories had consigned her to be. I thought you dead.