Castellé couldn't say how long, for certain, that she'd been lying there, lips parted, gazing it the stars.
But it certainly wasn't, and would never truly be long enough.
The takeover was fast coming.
No one could stop it now. It had been long in the making.
All there was left to do was lay and wait for her time to come too. Just like those whom had gone before her.
Just like those already claimed da The Mystings.
They were a soulless bunch. Shrouded in robes of pure onyx that fluttered like silk in the wind, they were elegant...stunning, yet horrifying all at once. The Mystings had no faces...not ones of their own anyhow. They'd simply adapt the faces of animali and switch it up every day.
They had once been the sole inhabited of the Kingdom of Xyper. The only beings that roamed the vast woodland.
And soon they will be so again.
Man would fall first.
And soon after would fall dragon and griffin, elf and phoenix.
Every being except the Mystings.
As far as Castellé knew, she was the last of her kind. In just the first giorno alone she'd seen castles collapse and empires fall.
She'd seen the crops in flames and the souls of man as the Mystings claimed them as their own...adding anew faces to their collection.
What a horrifying sight it was; to see a face twisted in such a grim and grotesque way as they watched their own soul exit their body--before they'd even left the world of the alive. To see it come out--drawn to a pearl covered hand--as a silvery trail of shining air.
Castellé longed to be one of those whom had already come to pass. At least they weren't alone when they died.
At least they didn't know what was going to happen...
Honestly Castellé didn't long to live either. She'd Lost too much.
How do te stay alive in a world dying?
Castellé soon realized that te simply do not. And that was fine. Fine and good.
She'd just close her eyes and let herself pass.
She'd take herself before the Mystings could.
She'd die with a soul.
She drew out her dagger...
He leads me
in the paths that are right
te are my friend
I have courage,
for your help is there
te are close beside me with comfort,
te are guiding my way
te make me welcome,
Pouring down honor
This joy fills me with gladness
Your goodness always is with me
Your loving kindness strengthens me always
as I go through life.
They are pouring down honor
For your achievements
It fills me with pride
At your success
te are più than deserving
Of such attention
I am so happy for te
And am proud to know te and call te friend.
in the paths that are right
te are my friend
I have courage,
for your help is there
te are close beside me with comfort,
te are guiding my way
te make me welcome,
Pouring down honor
This joy fills me with gladness
Your goodness always is with me
Your loving kindness strengthens me always
as I go through life.
They are pouring down honor
For your achievements
It fills me with pride
At your success
te are più than deserving
Of such attention
I am so happy for te
And am proud to know te and call te friend.
How men first learnt to invent words is unknown;in other words,the origin of language is a mystery.All we really know is that men,unlike animals,somehow invented certain sounds to express thoughts and feelings,actions and things so that they could communicate with each other;and that later they agreed to certain signs,called letters,which could be combined to represent those sounds,and which could be written down.These sounds,if spoken o written in letters,are called words.
Great writers are those who not only have great thoughts but also express these thoughts in words that appeal powerfully to our minds and emotions.This charming and telling use of words is what we call literary prose.Above all,the real poet is a master of words.He can convey his meaning in words which sing like music,and which da their position and association can break men to tears.We should,therefore,learn to choose our words carefully,or they will make our speech silly and vulgar.
Great writers are those who not only have great thoughts but also express these thoughts in words that appeal powerfully to our minds and emotions.This charming and telling use of words is what we call literary prose.Above all,the real poet is a master of words.He can convey his meaning in words which sing like music,and which da their position and association can break men to tears.We should,therefore,learn to choose our words carefully,or they will make our speech silly and vulgar.
