Blackwater Islands i'm blue when the moon hits my skin right

in these dark woods she ruled, mother of the night-magick and the druids of the wilds; in these holy lands, she was the hunter, and this dark creature her prey.

voidfire sparked and sputtered between them as the beasts danced like shades of dragons in the night.

then the dreadfather turned to meet the mother of night, and she became the hunted.

she descended on him in dark fury, the words of harka crooning in her ears.

sithis, the beast hissed in unison with the echoed memory. a calling; a challenge. she met him with teeth and lust and rage.

these sands, the altar of their marriage; this blood, the symbol of their pact.

the creatures would tangle in violence and desire, their meeting as ephemeral as it was brutal. a fight to the death, perhaps, if death held any power over creatures such as these.

the beast with eyes of night and day broke from their clash and took flight. she would lead her soul's kin across the sands, into the waters where they belonged.