Lena
I'm buried and covered peaceful under millions of stars

The songbird attempted to piece together all the raw sentiments and toss them aside, so they couldn’t, wouldn’t, bleed into her arias, into her ballads, into her former whimsies. She couldn’t heal another without the power and declaration of her hopes, her convictions, her aspirations and wild, bountiful dreams, the ones bounding across clouds, stars, constellations and twilight reveries, those lost in the paradise of another time, another place. But they weren’t forgettable images; easily placed into a dark corridor of her mind, never viewed, never seen, never unraveled in front of the herd she cherished and fought for. Imogen, brave and sacrificing, biting into the flesh of her enemy, only to be thrown against thickened timber, and herself, reacting with guilt, with sadness, and then overwhelming fury pouring into her lungs, into her chest, into her heart, until she was naught more than flame and ferocity. Was that who she truly was, tucked into the recesses of her benevolence and honor – another beast awakened and incited? She tried to slip the nagging, persistent thought into a burdened breath, an inaudible sigh slinking into the edge of wounded patriots, tucked away for some subsequent day where she could dwell upon the splintered, fragmented ghosts of her composure. Instead, her eyes maintained focus back upon Illynx, the creature truly hurting, touched and scalded by the stroke of draconic furor, instilled by the trust the golden creature had in her, to allow herself witnessed in scarred regalia. The honeyed stare became fixated by the lines of burnt, pierced pelt, shining abhorrence in the burdened moonlight, flickering in its warm rancor, boiling rage melted upon hide, rendering choking bitterness with each movement of her figure. How much had the gilded one borne, in the depths of their desecration and persecution? How many more were out there like her, afraid to beg for calamity and animosity to be soothed, assuaged? The nymph’s movements were careful, precise, taking note of the surrounding injuries, Imogen barely moving upon her hind, drumming up a hum, a hymn, to surround the world with serenity instead of Stygian bombardments.

Her eyes closed thereafter, lashes brushing over dished cheeks, a heartbeat, a quick intake of breath, as she grabbed ahold of the enchantments encased in her chest. To heal, to mend, to bestow tunes and melodies, fostering well wishes where’d they been lost, tossed, sullied and ruined, grace and finery restoring the laced ailments of yesteryear’s blinding, aching failures. A bright beacon of tenderness, compassion, and unearthly beneficence, she commanded and wielded the power, the invocation, to make the world remember gratitude, clemency and mercy, strangling adversity in the bout of her divine pursuits. She glowed, a candle in the nocturnal eaves, pouring a rhythm of her confidence, her essence, her ethereal demands, into each syllable and phrase, dipping them in gold, polishing them in silver, tracing them in ambrosia until they were sumptuous tranquilities.

“I smite the wicked,
I destroy the ruthless,
And I cherish the strong.
I admire the tenacious,
Now, I give to the indomitable.”

Refusing to heed the warnings, she gave every untamed regard of her power to the leader’s rugged distortions, rustling the chords of her charity, her melodious strings and threads, raising her head towards the skies as she soaked in the lost, absent fervor of the sun, offered every grasp of her magic. She prompted her to grasp, to hold, as it flickered over the length of torn skin and ravaged flesh. Even as exhaustion flickered against her mind, even as a silent warning beat from Imogen’s unconscious form, she reached and plucked for more, until her body was brittle, drained.

“Take the tunes,
You, the unyielding,
The steadfast,
The resolute,
And mold it to your gilded blade.”

She wouldn’t finish until Illynx begged for her to cease, until her body became naught more than a sacrificial rite, blending and blooming in the scattered haze of defeat.