Emberwood Silken

Under moonlight he cut a swift path out of the mountains and through the valley, mindful of the heavy burden across his shoulders. @Minuet. The islands called to him; wayward druid, lost heir to the shadowspun legacy of Blackwater.

And her. When she stirred he laid her gently among soft ferns, busying himself with a thorough inspection of the woods and their offerings. Soon he found what he sought: the delicate leaves of a plant he knew to be poison. Ptolemy marveled at the pretty little threat of it, how innocent it seemed at a glance.

Then he took a careful cutting and chewed it to a fine paste. He returned to the girl he meant to make his gossamer queen, his lady of the islands. Delicately he smeared the paste across her lips, coaxing it into her, only the smallest dose. Just enough to keep her quiet. Just enough to keep her compliant.