They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I used to wonder, how cold should it be? Well, I know now. The sort of cold that comes from eternal night and being locked in stone for over a thousand years. The sort that comes from the only person you think you can trust betraying you.
The sort of cold that comes from a knife in the back.
The Moon betrayed me. The Sun entombed me alive. And they were going to pay.