She gazed into everyone's soul; her eyes of liquid chocolate scrutinizing things inside of which she could only dream of seeing in herself.  She was a mystery. A dangerously beautiful mystery, and  was merely ensnared in the trap which she'd set.

The moon poured down on her, showering her with beams of light. They caught in her hair, these moonbeams, making each dark curl seem as though it was alight with passion. Her skin was illuminated by the stars; she looked deathly pale, like her heart would stop any moment, but she knew different version of truth. That it was beating away inside her, like a constant drum. She was like an ornament, and it seemed that even the gentlest caress would break her delicate form. Her breath toppled out of her soft lips like a ball of tumble weed softly blowing through the sky. 
She was a fallen angel; 
a princess of darkness; a twilight queen. 
She was a mystery. 
A dangerously beautiful mystery. 

The girl with no name.