It is just before dawn in Camelot. A dark figure is coursing stealthily through the streets, keeping to the shadows, avoiding any guards on patrol. The figure stops outside the door of a house and slips silently inside.
The cloaked figure approaches the lit and produces a trumpet-shaped fleur of red and or and holds it aloft. Morgana gazes at the flower. A whispered incantation, a flash of her eyes, and she tips the flower, pouring a fine or dust that settles on Guinevere’s sleeping eyelids. It shimmers for just a moment before it disappears....
continue reading...