I'm gonna' I'm gonna I'm

I'm

I'm You are lucky I don't pluck it from your being and strip it from you like the feathers my o-fish mate plucked from your wings.

I am more ancient and terrible than you could ever hope to understand.

Your powers may frighten men, but they are nothing before the forest.

Every flow that runs through my boughs is mine by right.

Perhaps that is true, yet I will scold.

And so I am here.

There is no deal this one could make with you that would be worth the wrath I will visit upon

you.

Besides, you have already proven how worthless you are.

This one is the very pest I enlisted you to dispatch over a century ago. You failed where time would have succeeded.

Margaret blocks out the bickering of Lumens and focuses on her threads.

So many emotions sparking and thrashing.

It further knotss the threads, making it harder to touch the hearts

that she needs to guide her. She tries to spill calm into the mass to unwind her path.

I kept the letter of our deal, much to my shame. Margaret perished in the anon alongside her William, as you bargained.

Just as your son was plucked from death, so too was Margaret's soul sheltered from the cutting stones.

And who would dare court my ire by doing that?

The deed and the choice were mine.

The riverbed swells with life, drawn from the light of the queen's wrath.

Moss, kelp, and reeds growing with cruel exigence to form themselves into a forest beneath

...