You remind me of the babe.

Whether you loved her or not, Goblin King, I've been living without my heartbeat for five years now. So don't speak to me of dreams or cruelty or what I owe you.

I owe you NOTHING.

But.

We can be two broken souls together. A Muse and a Reluctant Writer. I haven't forgotten the magic. I just...

I don't have it anymore. The magic of crystals, or True Love or the Dragonslave. You didn't lose everything to her. Just the game. She had to grow up and you were her Archetype. Now you're a Muse to hundreds, if not thousands. Your power continues to grow.

My will is strong. My kingdom, however, is ashes around me. Of the two of us, you have the better deal.

I'll take the dreams. The three you've sent me so far have been vivid and detailed and I've enjoyed them. Ten more, yes? For my punishment? I don't regret it, I'm a terrible tease. But do keep in mind just how much I UNDERSTAND. I have a high basis of comparison.

Which, of course, you already knew. It's why you keep coming back to me. Belief and understanding. I will love you, Goblin King, as only one empty heart to another, as a Writer to her Muse, as a Witch to an Archetype can. But that is all you get. No fear, no master, no slave.

So it begins.








Again.