Blackfeather Woods your beauty makes them weak

you are.
it was not a moment before she rejoined, swiftly and with a confidence lent by the murmur of the mother at her shoulder. great things this man was destined for. she had never considered herself a scryer of hidden truths, but they lay all the same in the frostglow of wintersbane's hard gaze. a boyking if she ever saw one.
an heir.
no. he was not a melonii, and relmyna had long given herself to the reality that the wood must be claimed by the indigo and fire-eyed ones. and her own daughters — the listener did not think they were destined for leadership, but as speakers, so seized had they been since birth by the ancient magicks of blackfeather.
maegi, its dark mistress.
and wintersbane, sire of some fel energy that spurred upward from her breastbone and into her gaze.
the meloniis must be united, she murmured, unsure if he would understand but giving silent shape to the thought all the same. blackfeather will not survive while the family is divided.
a slow blink.
we need a sacrifice.