She appears with eyes red like strands of velvet, ribbons resembling that of those she pours with anger just as potent.

She coddles the toddler with a mocking expression, it’s mother’s screams falling on seemingly deaf ears, a twisted countenance with all emotions but grief, perhaps anger. An immortal child, a broken little thing with a hunger more insatiable than any other…

There are few things that I covet beyond blood and power, and yet in the cruelest twist of fate and fallacy blood becomes the very thing I seek to diminish. Empires built steadily in the name of my coven, the blind worship and ambitious palms filled with nothing but the bitter taste of my hunger slowly quenched lead to, my thrill and contemplation, choices decided entirely in the name of furthering my, or more decidedly,…