Shadewood the sun's blood on my hands [M]

Amongst the tenebrosity, her husband's ebony figure could have slipped so easily past her fathomless watch, skipped in the shadows just out of reach from her ivory fingers - in truth, she clung to him and his love like a moth to a flame. He was addictive, in the way that all of her past men had been, and, like them, they'd made her promises. They'd whispered of plans, and spoken of glorious futures; she didn't care much for those, but it was freedom which called to her. It was the golden jewel placed upon a neat table, waiting in coruscating light until the day when she could place it in her palm or wear it freely around her throat. Raziel had spoken of freedom - a safe haven. She'd believed him.

Did she believe him now?

The stars were wonderful because they did not lie, only watched and dazzled and danced, woven into the night like little diamonds into stone. They were not dampened by misgiving, not plagued with hatred or remorse, and they did not hold the capability of guilt - they were completely, and utterly, free.

Gwen could feel his presence before he bathed himself in her vision, waiting in the shadows like a king of the darkness, every sin tucked into a single body - but he was beautiful, and despite the spiders crawling into her throat as she watched him, she longed to embrace him again. She thought of their special night, the delightful tickle that stroked her spine, and then the image of Kukutux arose to flood her mind; the image dissolved, and her breath was sucked in sharply before slowing as it should. Kukutux was a sister now, but to know that she was undoubtfully on her husband's mind was a sickness to crumble her resolve. She looked at him, and then back to the sky.

"I can feel them sometimes." Her children. Their children. What kind of world would their new life be born into - a safe haven, as promised, or an unstable kingdom of bitterness?