Queen of Winter, Throned
The sky was darkening as I could see through the broken gaps of towering marblestone ceiling. The overwhelming sense of consciousness was creeping in, the awareness, the awakening. The pair of tired yellow eyes could no longer see the glorious paintings on the walls or the gleaming white of encircled alabaster statues, only sad remains of the ancient sleeping chamber once so noble and proud. The sober cruelty of time had eaten away the gilded surfaces of sacrificial tables, the soft mosaic of the moss-covered pavement, and the fragile shell of my own resemblance. I walk where the shattered mirrors give way for old walled up doors and stumble in my weakness. Centuries must have passed but now spreading my wings through the tumbling roof I rise skywards.