And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead.
Reapers are the hands of Death. Death might be the judge, but the Reapers are the executioners. They police all Fae." "So kill the bastards." Taraeth glanced at his glass. "MNo one knows who the Reapers are. No one as even seen Death. We can't fight what we don't see or know." "So... you're afraid of some whispers?" "What do you think has been hunting the Fae besides the Kings? The Reapers." Mikkel made a sound at the back of his throat. "Has anyone ever seen one of these Reapers?" "You see one, you die." "Of course you do," Mikkel scoffed.
Smoke and Fire
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Reapers are the hands of Death. Death might be the judge, but the Reapers are the executioners. They police all Fae." "So kill the bastards." Taraeth glanced at his glass. "MNo one knows who the Reapers are. No one as even seen Death. We can't fight what we don't see or know." "So... you're afraid of some whispers?" "What do you think has been hunting the Fae besides the Kings? The Reapers." Mikkel made a sound at the back of his throat. "Has anyone ever seen one of these Reapers?" "You see one, you die." "Of course you do," Mikkel scoffed.
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