Bearclaw Valley some kind of soul come from within us

a transformation overtook averna; astara had seen it before, but never up close. how magnificently terrible her fleshbound sister appeared, wrought by the infernal tongues of a thousand whispering daemons.

astara would never know such divinity. for each footstep her sister took into the void, she took one on the mortal plane -- her mind was simply not crafted for such endeavor, or perhaps, like many mortals, the gods simply did not favor her.

how bittersweet the garland of blood was that painted her abdomen; how she wished her children to be born in the light, but understand the dark -- so that their lives would be long and full of strength.