She lifted her head to the sky, looking at the stars that lit her way, and the moon that cast the long shadows that were her camouflage. She stood at the base of a waterfall, looking at it intently; and it appeared that there were two skies, and the light from the sky reflected off of the water and onto her face, making her seem more pale than usual. She was as white as snow, and her eyes were as golden as the Sun over Istan, but her lips were a blood red, and though it was cold she did not wear any furs; for she felt no coldness. She felt nothing. She wore a black dress with long sleeves, with a V-shaped neck, showing off part of her white chest, and ending at the ground in tattered edges from where it was caught on numerous briar patches and sticks. She did not wear any soft, leather, travel-worn boots; for they were behind her, having just taken them off—yes, an odd way to dress, with a dress and boots, but what one might not know was the fact that she was wearing black pants fitted to her legs, much like an Elf might wear, underneath her dress; for she was not one to like dresses in the first place.

Her golden eyes reflected brightly on the water’s surface, even where the Falls connected with the water in a foam-like substance, and she let herself step on top of the water’s surface. One might have expected her to fall through, but where she stepped, ice formed to keep her on top of it, and she looked up at the sky, raising her arms about her, palms facing up, and she closed her eyes. A wind brushed through, then, carrying the words of magic from her mind to her dragon Renor Cryso, playing with her hair and her dress, distorting the water about her. She was also using her magical abilities to let her entire true form show; for from the backless dress there were, at the shoulder blades, two red marks that began to bleed as if she had been cut by some unseen sword. Then her skin split, but she did not feel it. She did not feel the blood traveling down her back, and she did not feel the feathery body parts pushing their way out from inside her, and then lay limp for a while at her sides, blood rushing off of them.

This was the true Goddess of Darkness—the Erinyes-infused being that could seduce any man, no matter how powerful, and she did not hide any of it now. There was no need to. She was alone for the time being, though she was able to feel a Neutral aura coming near her from some unseen being. Once again, she cared not who it was; for she, somehow, recognized it, but she could not put a name to the face that was bring drawn in her head. She ignored it and then took a step more onto the water, and it went icy there to hold her up once more. When she felt that whosever presence it was, was close enough to hear her, she smirked such a sick smirk that it might have made a child’s stomach turn and cause a chill to go down the bravest man’s spine. She had the abilities to do that—to look beautiful or scary, sick or elegant. It the gift that came with being partially Erinyes and also a Goddess who could change her look in an instant. She could have the most outrageous hair color, eye color, or face that anyone might see. She could make herself look like Lothlómendil if she so wished to do that, but there might be some sort of flaw in the appearance that only the closest examination could see, and that would be the mark of the Erinyes on her lower back.

“Don’t try to sneak up on me; I know you’re there. Now, before I get angry and out of a good mood, show yourself.” She waited for this person—a man, she could tell—to reply to her as she stood in the middle of one of the lakes of the Falls.