PROLOGUE

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PROLOGUE 

A thick crown of thorns etched around her head, her eyes a moon dust white, her gold flowing dress dripping with deep red blood, her body accended in the air, she cries out a bellowing caw;

BOW DOWN TO ME FOR I AM YOUR GODDESS

OR ALL UNWANTED ARE FREE

BOW DOWN TO ME FOR I AM YOUR GODDESS
OR ALL SHALL FEEL THE UNHOLY WRATH OF ALL SPIRITS UNLEASHED.

All bow down, to their new praised lord, for all and everything left behind, and nothing before them. Yet out of all, one stay afoot. Her eyes dart to the courageous man, and like lightning, none are standing. But one is deceased. In fear of putting a foot down to the powerful goddess, all stay silent and bowed to her. As moon shines in through the dead of the trees, and all burns behind her, no unwanted is unleashed, but her.


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