Estelle once again lay in a dark pit.
Broken.
Spiritless.
Dead.
The blood lapped and receeded at her wounds, never enough to heal her, but never enough to dissapear.
The moments when the blood healed her, she cherished.
But when the blood left, the pain seemed to increase.
"WHY?!" she screamed in agony.
She was foolish.
Now, she was doomed.
No one would summon her now.
No one would end her suffering.
Not even her beautiful glass sword would help her.
How could it, when it was driven straight through herchest?

It was a long time before she felt the energy.
It stirred within her, like snakes in a hole.
And, once again, she rose from her pit, the most beautiful shade of red.
But her pain did not end.
Not even on the surface would her wounds heal.
And her glass sword, driven through her heart,
slid out.
It clanged on the ground, transforming into a snake.
This snale kept Estelle from slipping into the pit.
***
All over the city walked the dead. Seth was their leader.
An awful mix of exposed flesh and pelz dampened with blood.
His wight army limped behind him.
"Estelle," he sagte as he found his partner in evil.
"Join us." he streched out a hand
***
Estelle glared at him.
How could he be so foolish? The snake on her shoulder whispered many ways to kill him, but she ignored it. She desired an army of the undead.
And she knew she colud not kill him without some element of suprise.
She took the bloodied hand, and marched.
Together, they could conquer the nations.
But Estelle alone would rule it.
***
YAAY! DOOM!