Exeistalynthe

Khaterine sat in the grand chamber of Zephyrion's dark citadel, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The full moon loomed outside, its pale glow piercing through the enchanted stained-glass windows.

The moment its silver rays touched her skin, an unbearable agony surged through her.

A searing pain clawed at her bones, as if her very essence were unraveling, her veins filled with ice and fire all at once.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. She clutched her chest, feeling as though her heart were being crushed within an invisible grip.

The sensation was beyond pain, it was destruction, the slow and merciless tearing apart of her soul.

The maids of the citadel had long learned to avoid her chambers on full moons. Even Zephyrion himself did not intervene, knowing that nothing could ease her torment.

Her body convulsed, her fingers digging into the cold obsidian floor as her vision blurred into darkness.

This was Exeistalynthe.