~
Ashamed, the queen tucks herself away in her tent.
She refuses the presence of her servants and the comfort of her husband. Her condition worsens in solitude, flesh turning to molded clay following up her extremities. Though death was not yet invented, the queen began to fear an end as her organs began to see the affects of the ailment. Without warning, the tent filled with light. She trembled, blinking in vain for sight. The queen felt her body being lifted. An embrace held her above the ground, and she felt a hand work at her forearms and neck. The light faded; still she could only make out the silhouette of a figure.
~
