She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies. --LORD BYRON

antlar awoke in Castle Marrach on a very cold and windy day.   That is, cold as any other day in this kept place.   The room was sparse: a soft bed, a simple table, a window, and a door.   No, not a door, not as such anyway.   It seemed to shimmer as a mill pond blown by a gentle, steady breeze.   Not only did it shimmer as water, but was as blue as the deepest ocean, shifting and glistening.   The rest of the room, being constructed of cold gray stone, began to take shape in her groggy head.

She had no memory of who she was, and not yet any idea of what she wanted to be...

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