Inside of the beast, there is a monster, and within that hollow creature resides a small and frightened child.

It is strange, how hatred can take its roots in love, and how very similar they are after all when broken into microscopic fragments and studied from a magnifying glass. It is even more mystifying that, while we are the ones who feel, we often don’t really know what it is that races and beats its way through our hearts until we reflect on it – if we reflect at all.

The monster gave leeway to the transformation, the black coat over a broken and infected emotional wound that sold the soul within to the disease that rides its black steed across the land – but the child held the beast at bay, gave room for her kin to escape a fate cold and ruthless as this prison she now found herself trapped in.

The Lady Illynx is here, watching the world through gleaming red eyes.

Her lips are sewn shut with rough twine. She cannot scream. She cannot move; her legs have been encased in stone. There is only the darkness, and the narrow beam through which she knows she has attacked any and all who bore light on their hearts which dared cross her path. She knows that she will not stop. This body will not let her rest until all life has been feasted upon and the world is nothing but the dead and the dying.

The child only cries, softly and without end, as she always has.

The Lady Illynx, as usual, does not hear her.


Her talons slice into the hard packed earth of the Heart, the air cool and still under the deathly chill of winter, a thin veneer of drifting, powdered snow tossed aimlessly about the surface by a wind that buffets her shining, ebonite locks about her monstrous head.

She is a body of feathers and pitch, streaked in blood, mostly ruined flesh that has been burned and singed by the fire magic of the earth bound living she has challenged. Most fled, but the one.

A brave male, but the darkness would take him too. She had imparted too much of the infection on that shining silver flesh, she had tasted blood and fear. It was only a matter of time. The whining voice within her remembered that part of life before Divine strength, life before an unending cycle of murder and dismay. The whining voice had not been able to keep her from rising from the weak flesh that the disease had captured, and the unicorn of prey now paced about the rim of the den of the living.

There were too few on the surface for her to remain here.

She will challenge them within.

A cawing howl breaks the stillness of the air as her wings tuck to her sides and she is sliding ever so quickly down into the bowels of the earth, her lips curved in a dark and menacing smile as she arrives in a cloud of dust and unsettled stones that deflect off of her battle worn flesh and crackle against the stone boundaries.

The living sprawl before her, in an array much like a buffet, and she steps forward with one normal rate step before attempting to burst with full speed into the center of the foray.

The whining voice laughs, joyfully; the beast has no magic below the earth.

She only takes many stumbling and useless steps deeper into the cavern, a sputtering and hideous sound of dismay slipping from a maw stained brown with dried blood.

It’s too late now to escape without them surrounding her, even the beast knows this without the mocking drone of the bitch within her head, but the stench of the water oozing from the fountain in the center of the area now seems all to distinct and nauseating. She prepares herself to face whoever will come to challenge her, nostrils broad and quivering as her blood toned eyes roll psychotically in her gore marked face, a path of escape sought as she attempts to make her way back out of the hole into which she has fallen.

[ OOC: Open for healers or someone to chuck her into the fountain. :'D ]