She walked and walked under the sun.

Of course she already knew of the High Castle’s fire but nothing more.

The voices of before now gone.

Mirrors erased.

Doubts taking hold.

Quicksilver eyes lost into reverie.

They called him Adone, still.

The thought saddened her to the very core.

As if a side of the beast survived when I know it did not.

Stubborn like a goat, quick like a fox, mindful like a wolf on the hunt.

Slaved to a living lie.

Sun scorched her dark hair like a flame and she reposed under a tree.

And what dreams you dream, fairer lady amongst fair?

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