¬ Paloma
Herrin… that scoundrel…
He drifted up from the silt of memory like a bubble of rot from a swamp. I had not thought of that mortal in decades.
I drifted high above the castle grounds, my true form stretching across the skies in a mass that would have driven lesser beings mad to witness. The mortals below scurried about their little lives, oblivious.
They always were.
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. It had been so long since anything had surprised me. Centuries bled into millennia, and eventually even the most exquisite sensations dulled to nothing. Pleasure. Pain. The taste of a soul dissolving on my tongue. All of it faded after that initial excitement.
But this?
This was unexpected.
I had felt it in that hall. A flicker so brief it could have been imagined. A tremor in the fabric of existence that lasted less than a heartbeat.
Chosaikka!
'So, this is where you have been hiding.'
My form ached with the memory of our history.
