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The seething moths of meadows of the wooden world know no bounds. Bereft of faith, between umbra and an illuminated moon, a maiden on a forgotten horn resides.
Aye, a maiden had been afore the lusting eyes of demons before. After a violent storm had passed, a maiden in solitude lied on the floor. Mayhap an end to a wicked torment ought to be far astray, but to a maiden, her world was hoar, to some dismay.
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A Story Of A Blind Girl
TerrorAlone. Afraid. Forgotten. A girl walks the line between solitude and madness. Where does her fate await?
