tsar ’ s advisor , tsarina ’ s confidant ; titles mean nothing now as palace crumbles . moon spirit ducks around falling debris , outrunning wisps of shadow that threatens to overtake her ( & knows , in some whisper from the darkness , that kozmotis is back ) .
there is half a thought to shift , to shed her skin for the familiar rabbit fur ; but she fears the consequences of being caught . would she be trapped in that form , for the rest of time ? or would a fate much worse await her ? she decides she doesn ’ t want to know ; but lunaeh allows herself to slip between worlds , to dive between folds to take her to the heart of the palace .
at least it is untouched , the prince ’ s room . stars still twinkle near the ceiling & baby mim is untouched ; he sleeps soundly , without care . gentle hands swaddle the blankets around him , as if to drown out the inevitable sound of destruction as kozmotis seeks him out . & she half debates running with him —
— yet another thought tugs on her , guiding her mind to the chasm she feels to another . a gentle cold , the first promise of autumn , is what she sends down first , a greeting . i ’ m here . & as palace rumbles & ground shakes , between worlds , across universes , she whispers in the soft glow of dwindling stars & to the forehead of the tsarevich .
“ hylia . ”
@symphonis . ( plotted . )