Mylis'lynn Darkmoon II

WIP

**This is My Name** Here would go a bunch of text.

And some more

And some more

## The Beginnings

Here is some more text of my backstory, when I was a kid.

## Adulthood

More things that have happened, but when I was an adult.

## Specific Event

A specific event took place.

More text

More text.

## Specific Event 2

Haunting of the Highborne

It had been a few months since the rebellion had ended, Mylis'lynn woke up as the moon was darkening, and that was the one distinct time in her life, the strangest moment of all, when she didn't know who she was. Drenched in cold sweat as she let out a gasp, she was far away from her ancient homeland of Darkmist, haunted and tired with travel, in a room she had never seen, hearing the winds of cold outside, and the creak of the old wood of the place, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and she looked at the cracked high ceiling and really did not know who she was for about twenty strange seconds. Then she saw it, lean and pale in an ethereal form, a silvery facial expression that was both spine-chilling and entrancing. "W-who are you? What do you want?" She shuddered, grasping the hems of the torn blanket and covered her self up as a means to hide. The Little Heiress was scared as can be, so she put up a mask to pretened to not be frightened to no avail.

The haunting figure stood at the end of her bed, whispering, "Child, I am you. Just like your mother, you've failed the royal house. Look around you and see what your indolence and weakness has brought to these once great halls of the Sisterhood."

She scanned the room for Silandria, her noble guard who was always by her side. Gone was the guard! All alone. And soon dread filled her mind and cemented her body in place. The room was different, she thought to herself, it was like time was frozen and a chill clinged to the air. It was heavy, she could not breath as it felt like she was trying to inhale smoke, her breath became frosted and visible. And for the first time in her life, she was just somebody else, some stranger, and her whole life was a haunted life, the life of a forgotten ghost.

She thought to herself, I've seen this ghost before, in a most otherworldly dream. I both sought it and feared it, she mused. It was terror that made me weak. Anxiety that drove me to sit by and let it happen! It is not me, it is intrinsic to all of us! She pleaded to the intangible phantom as it phased out of sight.

Fixated she had become to it. She returned every night to the abandoned estate just to have one more glimpse of it, just one more time. What a double edged-sword this phantom is as it speaks before it materializes. Yet she lied in wait for the ghost of the past, ensorcelled. Has it traveled far? Is it some form of demon come to shred me from this reality? Sometimes it is standing by me. Taking my hand it comes to remind that the people I hate and love become ghosts inside of me, and like this I keep them alive. And after all this, in one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves. We self-flagellate ourselves because of our past. Our failures and regrets. All because a little girl had let her bloodline down.

Then it shone through in the foggy and shattered window, a beam of incandescent light hit the broken glass just right as it gleamed and glistened. Prismatic colors, all varieties of white, filled her vision for a moment, how soothing was this pale light, she thought and then the chill went away, the darkness left the room as she opened her eyes from a deep and feverish sweven. The door to the room opened and in rushed Silandria, saying. "My Lady, are you okay? Was it another vision?"

Mylis remained quiet, turning a head on the pillow, grabbing the time-worn blindfold from the nightstand nearby and sat up in her disheveled bed. She wrapped the ivory cloth around her shut eyes and remained quiet. She reached for the nightstand once more, resting a ring-cladded hand onto a blackened book. Running long dusky fingers over it and felt the etched title of it, 'Annals of Fallen House' read the title in ancient Darnassian. It was eerie and quiet moment as the white-haired girl remained silent, a gust of wind rushing in the room, through the windows that made it sound like a specter's wail, illuminating the moon-kissed visage of the Dark Heiress. A wicked smirk tugged at the countenance of the girl for a moment, till she at last replied, "Yes, Silandria. It came to me again. I cannot be rid of the gift and curse even in the dream." She narrowed her eyes and then hugged the tattered book onto her chest, like a child would a doll. "One day, this ghost from the past will see the Light. Then Mother will know, nay, Great Mother and my ancestors as well, will see it restored."

Unshed tears dampened the blindfold of the Little heiress, a shimmer of a tear reflected in the moonlight. It was an evil night, and as the two remained quiet in the midnight after it all, the beautiful and delightful shape of moon began to shift. It appeared to cry out as it was coming up that very night, and its mystic shimmer was casting a million lights across the sorrowful and unearthly estate of Darkmoon.

## Photos

This would be another one if I had it. (Credits?)