Proud went the Hermit Queen,
Cloaked in the majesty of anguish,
To a castle bleak and crumbling.
Forsaken by fortune and destiny told,
She slipped the moonlight from her fingers,
Then threw the stars into the sky.
She watched as they were swallowed,
And recalled his pretty lie.
"I demand an audience,"
She pleaded,
"Will no one hear my story told,
Won't anyone at all?"
"Where is your kingdom, Mistress?"
Mocked shadows in an empty hall.
She wandered through the rubble,
Seeking solace from ash and broken dream.
The Dark King's words remembered,
"I never loved these walls."
"Harsh go the shallows,"
She confided sadly to a shoal