Black Morass armageddon

the celestial mothers have always been with us, genevieve. they are not bound to our earth, yet they do not leave it, either. they are the pulse beneath our paws, the stars above our heads, and the breath we exhale into the wind. their essence is in the prey we hunt, the rivers we drink from, and the fire that warms our dens.

she shifted, her tall, silver-white form gliding closer, as though the reverence of her words demanded intimacy. they are eternal, but they are not cold, little star. solentia, the great mother, cradles all in her balance—life and death, beginnings and ends. it is her warmth you feel in the rising sun. and it is nyxara who watches when the night covers the world in its shroud, whispering truths to those brave enough to listen.

her voice dipped lower, a secret unveiled. they have given us their daughters to guide our steps, to teach us strength, cunning, and wisdom. each celestial mother calls to her own. when you feel the tide pulling you forward or the fire urging you to stand, that is their voice, genevieve. they call you as they call me, as they call all of our sisters.

ione’s lips curved into a faint smile, the beauty of her face touched by something unearthly, as though she were not only speaking of the celestial mothers but carrying their presence within her. we are not simply animals of blood, you see. we are their chosen. their daughters. and it is our purpose to walk the path they have laid before us.

she paused, her gaze steady and expectant. does this soothe your curiosity, little star? or do you crave more?