Hushed Willows Series of unfortunate events

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Imprisoned, banished, into a nexus of my own design...
Now Time mocks me, and my sentence is Gravity.

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A pair of blooded goblets watched a small puff of ivory and cream emerge from the decrepit den of holding. It was a den sickening with the smell of mother, but it was clear as one child strayed from the clutches of its dam, an unworthy mortal unfit for motherhood. This blue eyed puff waddled further and further, unknowingly closing the distance between themself and their new founding mother...

Zafina

From the eclipse of nightly crux, Zafina’s hum, much like that of what would have been her daughter’s first sound of love and adoration, left her hollow throat, and created the space betwixt her newly chosen. 
A hum of love, adoration,

a calling to come closer

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But every sky will build my throne.

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