The Courtyard slept now…they called the altar ‘Angel’s Tears’, faded…forgotten, yet the marks remained. Deep brands that bind us to our demons. The damp steady rain washed away every trace of Dantalion and Laurel’s memory, now only empty, cold stone. I saw her there…innocent, bloodless, alone. Beautiful, succumbed to the lust of the moon’s embrace, every mortal sin bled from her soul. Every single memory pulsed through her, every sweetness and every sorrow…she was to be the Legacy of the Grimoire and I was to bleed for her.
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