Estelle once again lay in a dark pit.
Broken.
Spiritless.
Dead.
The blood lapped and receeded at her wounds, never enough to heal her, but never enough to dissapear.
The moments when the blood healed her, she cherished.
But when the blood left, the pain seemed to increase.
"WHY?!" she screamed in agony.
She was foolish.
Now, she was doomed.
No one would summon her now.
No one would end her suffering.
Not even her beautiful glass sword would help her.
How could it, when it was driven straight through herchest?
It was a long time before she felt the energy.
It stirred within her, like snakes in a hole.
And,...
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