Three Eyes Joined [A Solas Seidrellia Story]

Three Eyes Joined

The Story of the Rise of the High Advisors of Seidrellia

Co-Written & Edited by Kitlandria, Malthyra, and Daelyn

Zanajes’s Vision - Year 814

The Eye streaked across the amethyst sky, the stars glittering like thousands of crystal points in the distance. Zanajes watched the comet’s path through the Elyrian night, tucking an errant strand of his wavy black hair behind an ear. There was a sudden sharp pain at the base of his skull. He clapped a spindly hand over it, his indigo eyes closing with a wince.

A book lay in the shadows of a burn pile, masked in coal black darkness. Illuminated by a single beam of moonlight, the subtle details of the text were laid bare as a gust of wind threw the pages violently open. A drawing of swamp trees. The curve of a mountainside. A circle of trees. The words “Corruption in the heart” seemed to lift from the parchment and surge forward like an arrow of light. A hazy map seemed to exist, but it was too blurred. Too illegible. In the distance beyond the murky recess of deceased pyre, the unmistakable sight of a Duchess’s throne flashed singularly before Zanajes’s eyes flew open once again.

Gasping, the Drasean man grasped the banister where he stood, taking a moment to recompose himself. He’d heard whispers of corruption, of things shifting, in Solas Seidrellia where his ancestral lands lay. But,

Several months later, The Eye now just past midway across the expanse of stars, Zanajes arrived in Andalus. He came with a small entourage, prepared to gather information and determine what his vision fortold. Little did he realize that his coming was foretold by yet another long lost ancestor of the swamps…

Kathea’s Vision - Year 814

Kathea started from her sleep, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead; it had been the most intense dream she had ever had.

“Not a dream, a memory.” As she spoke these words she realized it was true - a memory of the leaving. Of her grandmother, many greats removed. First of the Marcaigh line. She had felt what was overtaking their… her old homeland. The exodus. The Queens Gaze in the sky. The stars marking the undertaking in alignment. Blazing streaks in the sky as if the constellations themselves wept fire.

Throwing the light cover aside, Kathea made her way outside. Fiery tears swept the sky, the Queens Gaze and the stars...The same stars as those of that night. Another memory? An old tale remembered? Whatever came to her now resonated in her soul. Their soul? The same soul?

Shaking her head to clear it of these troubling, but oddly comforting explorations, she knew in her core, in remembered tales, that it was time. Time to return to her old lands, the lands of her… Another shake of her head. Not her sister anymore. Her matriarch’s sister. It was time to return to the realm of Andalus.

Making arrangements swiftly, she placed a tender kiss upon her daughter’s head. Time was short. The portents told her that she must travel now, swift and sure. The time was upon Kathea to change the course of the future. She left that morning arriving in Andalus just as the Eye was passing midway across the sky.

Vision in the Stars  - Year 814

“The stars shine beautifully tonight, Imogen,” Triselias whispered with a soft smile. She closed the door and moved closer to the Duchess; the light streaking through the window from the comet passing overhead illuminated the room around her.

Imogen turned from the window, allowing Triselias to steal the gaze that was so ferociously fixated on the night sky only moments before. “Is it time then?” she inquired, reaching her arms out to pull Triselias close.

A slight squeal escaped Triselias’ lips as she was pulled forward, the weight of the evening's event vanishing in a shroud of bliss accompanied by her bright smile. She planted a soft kiss on Imogen’s forehead before quickly poking her nose playfully. “Yes dear. The night has finally come. Every Seer in Seidrellia now awaits us at the Council’s observatory,” she stated calmly.

“I worry so, for the fate of us all,” Imogen spoke with a heavy sigh as she laid her head upon Triselias’ shoulder. “Mother stated a great darkness would spread throughout the counties in our realm, that the darkness would come for her… my own daughter.”

“Malthyra will be fine, you will see. Let us perform the reading this night, while the Eye is still roaring above. It was handed down to me from my parents, as it was the families of the other Seers in the realm, that the Eye will create an accurate reading so precise and clear it may consume prior sights, and even unravel the secrets within the stars usually swallowed by the darkness of night.”

Imogen cleared her throat, standing once more as she pulled away from Triselias. Turning her head to face the window, her eyes drifted to the bright comet as she spoke. “Let us be on our way then. Ready the guards.”

The caravan arrived at the observatory; the mounts halted quickly, their neighing and grunts echoing throughout the clearing in the surrounding swamp.

Imogen looked around at the faces that sat atop the many horses around her. She nodded to the royal guard before smiling at Triselias who was, as usual in public spaces, surrounded by the other Seers who studied beneath her in the Capital. “Come, let us be finished with this nonsense once and for all,” the Duchess stated sternly as she dismounted her favored Otter Bear in an elegant fashion, giving the family pet a gentle rub below the ear before turning to walk towards the building.

“Secure the bear,” Triselias ordered to a few of her students before turning to follow the others. As the group passed, Triselias noticed a tear slithering a new path down Imogen’s cheek. She bit her lip as she realized Imogen’s love for the pet.

“The sight will demand true sacrifice,” Triselias muttered to herself reassuringly while shuffling her feet rapidly to catch up to the others.

As those gathered joined together near the observatory, the immense wooden entrance swung open to welcome the party inside.

As the group passed the threshold, Imogen’s eyes circled the room. It was filled to each cavernous wall with what seemed close to one hundred hooded figures, all peering toward the open ceiling with a perfect view of the the Queen’s Gaze comet.

Triselias spoke loudly as she approached Imogen. “Come forth, Duchess. Stand before those who see the light above in its true form. Cast aside the shadows you bear, for tonight the sky is ablaze with life.”

Imogen moved to the center of the room, letting her shoulders hang to allow the robing wrapped delicately around them to fall to the ground. She stood before Triselias and held her head high, before closing her eyes tightly.

In the distance, the sound of the otter bear crying out its guttural death reverberated through the night. Imogen winced once, then smoothed her face to passive perfection. It had been a necessary thing for the rite to work.

The Seers that had been given orders returned once more to Triselias’ side, one carrying a small cauldron filled with the sacrificial blood required for the ritual. The masked man laid the cauldron at Triselias’ feet before moving to stand with his fellows.

Triselias bent down, dipping her finger into the dark red fluid. She brought herself up to face Imogen, sliding the blood-stained finger across the Duchess’s tightly-shut eyes. She began to hum a low tone as she scraped a streak of red across her own forehead.

Triselias passed the cauldron to a woman on her right. The woman did as Triselias, drawing the same depiction of a streaking comet above her eyes before passing the cauldron. Once the woman regained her position, she too began to hum.

The cauldron was continuously passed on to each Seer gathered in the room, each adding to the resounding sound now echoing throughout the chamber. As the final member began to add to the tune, Triselias gazed toward the comet above. She thrust her arms outward to the skies above as the humming grew in volume within the room.

Imogen’s eyes began to burn as the blood seeped past her eyelids while the reverberating sounds around her caused her to feel dizzy. It began to make her feel nauseous, a swelling within her stomach bringing discomfort as she struggled to manage her balance. She felt as if she needed to scream; anything to release the burning feeling creeping over her entire body as panic began to overcome her.

A high pitched scream suddenly bounced off of the walls, cutting the ritualistic humming short and causing many to gasp audibly within the room.

Imogen brought her hands up quickly, grasping her mouth as if to prevent any further noise from escaping. She opened her eyes and glanced down, immediately catching glimpse of Triselias kneeling on the ground before her with her arms outstretched to the skies.

Tears were streaming down her face as Triselias looked up at Imogen. She brought her eyes away from the Duchess as she tried to stifle her now flowing tears.

“Triselias,” Imogen stated slowly and quietly. “What did you see?”

Triselias shook her head negatively, bringing her hands to her mouth as she looked back up to face the Duchess.

Imogen grew impatient, still having not entirely recovered from the prior panic and anxiety that had washed so violently over her. “SPEAK,” she demanded as the guards at the rear of the room moved forward to stand behind her.

Triselias was still shaking as she gulped down a sob, beginning to speak quietly and bringing her eyes back down toward the floor. “The stars… they are aligned in the same manner as your mother declared.”

Imogen could feel herself becoming heated like fire rippling up from her feet all the way to her dark hair. She glared down at Triselias as she spoke clearly. “Falsehoods… Lies you claim.”

“I only read what is above, I know not the lies of which you speak. But… There is more my Duchess… my love…” Triselias pleaded. “Your daughter.. I can see her constellation clearly.”

Imogen reached down to her side, grabbed her sword from its sheath, and rushed toward Triselias. Bringing the tip of the blade to rest in the middle of Triselias’ chest, Imogen spoke with a malicious tone, the threat audible in far more than the words. “Dare to speak one more slithering tale to me and you shall be the final sacrifice of this evening’s events. Tell me… what is this you see of my daughter Malthyra?”

Triselias spoke clearly, though another tear made its way down her now water-stained face. “The girl will be your undoing.”

Imogen screamed, “No! This cannot be. It will not… be. You have all conspired against me!”

Imogen seemed to fall forward, the weight of her own defeat compelling her forward. She slumped onto her sword as she pressed downward into Triselias, running through her until the blade touched the floor on the opposite end.

Imogen looked down at Triselias’ body - a lonely tear floated in her eye as it waited to fall. She motioned to the guards to help her up as the large group of Seers now rushed to Triselias’ side. The guards escorted Imogen to the door, and they once again crossed over the threshold. She turned to face the crowd contained within.

With a cold, lethal tone of voice Imogen stated calmly, “Burn them all.”

The Duchess stepped back, giving the royal guards room to lock the doors. They threw their torches onto the building as she watched on, emotionless. The sky above began to run aflame with the red hues of the growing fire pairing with the comet above. The creeping dryness of the air cleared the remaining tear that was left straggling in Imogen’s eye: a tear that she’d sacrificed her beloved mount in vain.

Taking her place atop Triselia’s horse, she set her focus back toward the Capital. A new worry now descending upon her mind.

The Future  - Year 814, Halfway Through the Queen’s Gaze

It did not take long for word to spread throughout Andalus of what had happened. The news spread from a mere whisper to a conflagration of hyperbolic tales told at every table both in homes and taverns across the duchy and beyond. Duchess Imogen had sacrificed her loyal seers, pouring oil into the flames herself; she had defied the Two-Fold Queen in a ritual that shocked even the most casual of worshipers; she had drank the blood of her own lover while she stood naked in the moons’ light, surrounded by a ring of fire and sage smoke. The stories grew more and more distorted with each telling until the people feared her far more than before.

Zanajes and Kathea, searching as they both were for answers and futures, stumbled upon each other in the Himnaríki Tavern nestled in the capital’s heartland swamp. There, bards told the exaggerated tales of the latest deed, but it was the truth they both were after.

Zanajes found Kathea outside, staring up at the stars the evening after they fatefully both arrived. As he looked at her, a sense of familiarity or common purpose cascaded over him, compelling him closer.

“You seek the answers in the stars?” he asked.

Without taking her eyes from the shining dots above, she spoke softly, “Answers, questions. Seems for everything they give, there is so much left to know. They sent me here, for what? To see what I already knew? To see the reason we left so long ago? If that is the case, I do not see the point, so there must be more. Something else.” Her gaze finally dropping from the stars, she regarded the man who spoke. An odd feel of familiarity tugged at her mind, though she knew she had never met him.

“What answers do you seek or questions do you wish to ask? You have the feel of one searching. Looking for something, as well. As much a stranger here as I am no doubt.” The lavender eyes that were a hallmark of her line, nearly hidden in the deep, even for a Dras, shadows of her eyes were made more pronounced by the headlong journey to where she was now; they remained steadily upon the man before her.

“I found answers. Answers about my ancestral lands,” Sutorius replied. His hair was thick with waves that cascaded over a shoulder in ripples. As wind stirred the night, he looked like the sea in a storm, ominous but beautiful. “I have come here to reclaim them for the Sharizi… but, it seems the Duchess is no longer fit to rule the swamps of my ancestors.” A frown deepened his already eerily haunting look, and his indigo eyes met Kathea's.

She would recognize the name, for all in kingdom did. The Sharizi had lead the Oakenroot, those that kept the Atheneum of Knowledge. Years ago, on the brink of war, it had been burned.

Breaking his gaze away, he continued. “I am the Arcora, he who accords with the leaves of the Blood Oak. Perhaps…” He paused, flickering a momentary glancer her way, “I can divine the shifting energies and see why both of us are here…”

The offer hung in the statement.

She nodded simply, the title and name familiar. “It is why we left, many generations before; it has not changed it seems. It has me questioning why the… Signs compelled me here. Perhaps it was only to say a final farewell to what was our lands. I am Kathea, Banduri of the people who follow me. Who have followed the Marcaigh line since we left Andalus.” She shook her head a little, the cropped black hair hardly moving. She lifted the hood of an oddly mottled cloak, and her features disappeared into the darkness within it.

“I will wait for you to divine what you will, have one last look at the lands that were once ours, then return to my people should nothing be left here for us.” She sunk cross legged to the ground, bowed over slightly. In the dark she looked like nothing more than a moss coated stone. As still as one, she waited.

Zanajes took several long steps to weave his way around the Banduri, taking a seat on the ground across from her. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved several items, laying them out before him. First came an intricately woven dark cloth, the color like bruised lavender. Once smoothed, he placed upon it a series of crystals, a candle which he painstakingly took a moment to light, and a half-broken shell with some resins cupped in the bottom.

Shifting to adjust his seat, the male Dras took in a long, slightly trembling breath, then exhaled, his shoulders sinking. With reverence, he retrieved one last item from the bag - a rectangular shaped cloth bag clearly containing a card deck of some kind.

Untying the strings that kept it held tight, he removed the aged cards. The backs were patterned with faded purple ink depicting intertwined tree branches in a circle. Lifting the cards, he pressed the edge of the deck to his forehead, his lips moving in a silent prayer.

Finally opening his eyes again, he began to shuffle the deck in efficient movements, fanning them and cutting them with grace. This process went on for several minutes before he began to cut them into smaller piles, hands hovering over each.

With a suddenness, he began to select cards, fingers flitting from pile to pile to pluck out one here and there. He flipped them swiftly, laying them out in an intricate grid, fingertips brushing over the carefully painted watercolor pictures.

When nine cards were at last laid, Zanajes’s brow knit as he studied them. Lids fluttering closed, he tilted his head up toward the starry sky, mouth mumbling words into the crisp night.

“She must be stopped,” he murmured, his hands blindly moving over the cards. An ursaphant, a dove, a heifer, a forest fire, dagger, a sun, a hammer and anvil, a lake and river, a spark of a fire. Many of the cards lay at odd angles, either entirely reversed or sideways. “The Banduri must bring her feminine energy; the Arcora his masculine. Together, they go within and yet manifest outwardly. The one who shall replace the twisted Duchess shall rise from within the nest - but we must give the push. We must keep the secrets. There is great movement to be had, progress for the lands, yet the price is us carrying that heavy weight. Trusting one another… completely. Burn away the old destructive patterns that have poisoned this land so long and true success can occur. There is a rebirth that we are about to witness and we are the catalysts.”

Zanajes’s eyes flew open as he finished his interpretation of Ta Braveth Agria, meeting Kathea’s. “It seems to speak clearly,” he said, his voice thick with both emotion and conviction.

There was barely even the movement of breath from within the cloak for several long moments, then an arm disentangled from the folds. Reaching out, she let her fingers hover over the cards, not touching them. A memory, her own? One far older spoke to her; she knew the cards in some way she could not explain. A faint shrug, as her fingers stopped a hair's breadth over the card of the Ursaphant: “The journey, what brought us. The weeping of fire from the sky.” Her hand moved seemingly at random, but stopped suddenly above the card of the forest fire. “The end of the old, the renewal.” One after another her hand went to the hammer and anvil, the lake and river, then a spark of fire. “You, I, and the power to change.”

Kathea nodded and stood. She could feel the truth in the cards, not in any way close to the depths of Sutoriuos’ understanding. Yet, it was there. The reason to come, the call of the stars, and the signs. She rose to her feet in a fluid motion, seemingly charged with an inner energy.

“Seems we have things to do and a burden to carry.” She took a step, stopped, and looked back. “I do hope you know where we need to go.”

Zanajes nodded, smiled at her with a curious tilt of his head, and then stepped in front of her to lead the way.

Paving the Way - Years 814 - 815

The rumors sprawled across the duchy’s social landscape like an unfurling parchment kingdoms’ long. The stories were as varied as could be imagined, but one common thread continued to crop up. Imogen had a daughter, still young enough not to be a viable leader; yet for some reason, she was considered a threat by her mother. The girl’s name was Malthyra, and she lived in the Duchal Estate.

In the coming weeks, Kathea and Zanajes requested an audience with Imogen, making it publicly known that they were traveling to see their ancestral lands. But, their purpose was truly to get to Malthyra.

Imogen proved a cold woman, daunting in her domineering style and approach to the people of her realm. Even with Kathea and Zanajes being returned ancestors of the lands, she treated them with barely more than an upturned nose and a precursory glance. She entertained them seemingly begrudgingly with a dinner to welcome them, but would not discuss the state of affairs of the duchy or the recent “loss” of her seers. However minimal information the meeting provided, it gave the duo an in to meet Malthyra.

She was a stunning young woman, regal in every way and with an air of intellect that seemed to pour from her. Kathea and Zanajes exchanged knowing glances, the same thought sparking in their minds: she had potential - that which was needed to change these lands to their truest course.

Whatever had been seen in the vision, it made sense now. Malthyra would clearly be her mother’s downfall. All she needed was a little push. Zanajes and Kathea were determined to provide that without it ever seeming that way. Despite the what the cards said must be done, both agreed that they would have chosen this path of their own volition without all of the signs. Malthyra clearly needed a stronger foundation, support, and someone to trust.

They met with her over the course of the following year, advising her in private in many brief meetings. A gala here or there. A stolen moment out riding. A trip to the great library. Wherever they could get close to her without creating a sense of suspicion, they did so, building Malthyra up to be confident, strong, stalwart in her visions of the future. They never told her what to do - only taught her ethics and values through their own stories, how to guide people based on their own experiences, and above all how to see for herself.

In the meantime, the pair gathered all of the information they could about the history of the duchy in the recent years, of the Cayetana line, and of their relations with the rest of the kingdom. When the moment seemed right as it could be, Kathea explained her ancestor had been Cayetanas, but had left with the coming of the plague as it was rumored started at the hands of that same bloodline.

In that time, Zanajes and Kathea grew to be an unstoppable force.

Malthyra, though young, had many ideas about her future which Kathea, Zanajes, and sometimes both gained in their conversations. They were someone to rely on in a way that Imogen had never provided for her daughter. They heard story after story of how Imogen had forced her to make a fatal choices, condemning people to death. They stood by her side as she wiped away tears feeling her mother never quite saw eye to eye with her. She shuddered at the thought of having to maintain the same style of reign as the Duchess before her. More than anything, she feared that she would not be the kind of Duchess that Seidrellia needed.

“You’re exactly what this duchy needs,” Kathea offered.

Zanajes’s face transformed with a wise, knowing smile. “You are the future. I’ve seen it.”

Imogen’s End  - Year 815

One Spring evening some year and a half after Kathea and Zanajes began their mentoring of Malthyra, a gala was presented for the fellow nobility and select aristocracy throughout the kingdom. As Zanajes and Kathea had reclaimed their ancestral land holdings in the previous year, they too were in the audience. The halls were bustling with excitement as the monarchy had established majority rule over the lands within the Kingdom; it was a network like no other with Duchess Imogen as a head of the organized effort.

The hall quieted as Duchess Imogen began her speech. Imposing as always, she stood at the head of the bog iron table, her black throne behind her. Her powerful voice rang clear through the hall.

“We’ve made many advancements in the years past, always striving for change in a way that ever favors our people. Solas Seidrellia is a duchy stronger than before. Why you ask?” She paused as if for dramatic effect. “I have, as many whisper behind my back, oft ruled with a harsh conviction of character; and yet, I do it out of love for my people. I have always done what is necessary to protect those incapable of doing it for themselves. The masses need controlled lest they destroy their own existences. The weak, the powerless, the unintelligent. All must be guided firmly.”

She waved a hand through the air as she continued to speak, looking out at the nobles. “You are here because you are above all of that. You are not common folk in need of guidance, but those with the ability to see what must be done for those beneath you. And thus, I know you will all agree when I say that sometimes we must take a more heavy fisted approach to problems to rule in a way that gives little room for stupidity or question.”

Imogen’s gaze flickered to her daughter. “My daughter knows much of what I have been forced to do - what she will be forced to do when she takes the duchal seat when many years down the road the breath leaves my body with old age. Until then, I know she will continue to support me, as all of you will, my Counts, in maintaining order no matter the costs.”

With applause, she concluded her statements and looked to Malthyra.

Malthyra rose from her seat, making her way to her mother where she stood by her side. An unyielding expression wrapped itself around her features as she prepared to speak.

“I have learned much in recent years,” she spoke, her voice edged with a harshness similar to her mother’s. “Leadership does not always come naturally. In our world, we are essentially born into the role of leader, duke or duchess, count or countess. These titles are more often than not inherited, passed down through bloodlines. Rarely does that deviate where one comes in and assumes power that was not rightfully theirs. Such is my case. I was born to become a leader - given no choice in the matter. But it is still important that I rise to be the best that I can.”

“So I have watched, I have listened, and I have pondered over the future of these lands time and time again. I have looked to other leaders for inspiration and lessons.” Malthyra looked pointedly at her mother with a hard smile, then swept her gaze across the audience, meeting eyes with Zanajes and Kathea each in turn as they had sat far apart from one another.

“It is clear that I must be strong,” she continued. “I know I must think of the best interests of the people, and there will indeed be times when we must be firm. My mother has always been a very picture of that philosophy.”

Smiles and shouts of agreement and acknowledgment filled the room as Malthyra elaborated on the knowledge she had gained. Then, for the first time in many moons, the young woman smiled. She closed her eyes as she nodded slowly, then said: “However, Duchess Imogen Cayetana has no balance.”

The doors beyond the hall opened, a gust filling the hall. The militia filled into the room, as she continued, taking the nobles in the hall save for Zanajes and Kathea into custody.

The Duchess stood, shocked with an expression of unadulterated bewilderment.

Malthyra slowly turned to face her mother, pointing to the goblet held in the hands of the Duchess. "Guilty," Malthyra stated, staring deeply into her mother's eyes. "Ruling as selfish, unjust, without discipline... Your list could lead on for eternity mother. It is with a heavy heart that I hereby sentence you to death for the betterment of the people, these lands, and this kingdom."

Hearing her sentence, the Duchess gasped, taking one last terrified glimpse of the goblet before she fell. Malthyra nodded once more toward the militia standing by in the hall as the corrupt nobles and aristocrats were put to their swift end.

Eyes glaring permanently ahead, the young Duchess marched out of the castle, her robes trailing in the flowing red streams now painting the floor. She looked outward, knowing she must search for those who would help to see the world in a better light. After a moment, Kathea and Zanajes joined Malthyra, flanking her on either side.

“No matter the costs,” Duchess Malthyra spoke firmly as she looked to either side, offering a nod toward each of her advisors.

“For the future,” Kathea and Zanajes spoke in unison.

“Where there is darkness, there is also light,” the newly appointed Duchess stated sternly. “May we never forget that a coin bears two sides.”

The Establishment of the High Advisors: The Banduri and the Arcora

Over the coming months, things indeed shifted. Solas Seidrellia entered a new period of prosperity as balance was once again brought back to the land. Although her first major act as Duchess had been a brutal one, Malthyra had righted the corruption that was settling into her home. Settling into their roles as Banduri and Arcora, Kathea and Zanajes began to offer support to the Duchess Malthyra while simultaneously building their own lands up. Revered by the people as harbingers of change, both managed to gather quite a following. For their key roles in the future of Seidrellia, not only were they awarded their titles and positions as High Advisors, but were also granted additional lands to govern and build, expanding their ancestral territories.

Over time, already far older than Malthyra, they brought up their children to step into their roles. Thus, eventually Ariadne Sharizi and Daelyn Marcaigh became the next Arcora and Banduri, taking the place of their father and mother respectively.

Thus it became that the Duchess would always have two advisors to create balance. Two ears to serve her and the wishes of the Two-Fold Queen in unison. Those who would build her up, help her see both the light and the dark, and uphold the values of the people.

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Sha'harizi County - Capital City of Ah'wena - Countess Aria - Kitlandria!

12/22/2018 1:45:10 AM #1

Absolutely love the way this turned out =)

7/25/2019 1:59:58 AM #2

Made some MAJOR updates to the story (changed some names around, changed a few lore details) in order to adhere to the lore in some of the upcoming stories!

Sha'harizi County - Capital City of Ah'wena - Countess Aria - Kitlandria!

7/25/2019 2:16:49 AM #3

What an amazing and well thought out story. I loved it.

Divide et Impera

8/2/2019 6:18:36 PM #4

Delicious and yummy like a toffee covered apple shot off someones head from horseback on the side of a cliff in a snow storm.