Dragoncrest Cliffs Psalm

Hated filled Shadess these days. A rage festerind and fueling. A vengeance played out upon her enemies, yet it did not save those who had been lost. Those that had been taken, remained taken. 

Softness could only come to those of Sapphique. Of blood. She had so very left to give. 

Matant. She nearly whines as she calls to her aunt, tail sweeping low, red ears back. Her aunt may never sing again. Shadess couldn't blame her.