Dragoncrest Cliffs the gold pearl

it did not seem real.
in a daze mireille had followed lafayette, helping where she was able — or where he would allow. dimly she registered this as a ritual between father and son; even if she had never spoken of it, even if it had never been known — she had always accepted it.
she had always wanted it to be.
too large had their graveyard become. 
as her son sang, mireille found she was voiceless, a crimson statue standing ward over the grief of her son and the resting place of the only man she had loved.
the only one she had wanted to love.
in time she would turn away from this new-turned charnel, answering the low-burning instinctual call that followed tragedy.

.