his word was absolute.
Yet from the depths a woman rose,
with moonlight on her fingertips
to take that rule away.
Soft, the whispers of the people
Loud, the outrage of the King:
A war of blood and magic
where his word was absolute.
And at her side, the moonlight girl
had a Knight with streaming pennant
laughter nestled in her ribcage;
yet her touch could fell a man.
A secret world, one set apart
where long ago, a proud king ruled
until a moonlight girl rose up
with a Knight as white as snow.
The Kings are dead.
Long live the Queens.
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