Her moonlight blue eyes pierced through my skull and everything came flooding back to me, the dark, lifeless eyes and the cloak, her long, hooded cloak. Her black hair lay around her shoulders, covering her small ears. Her skin was as white as a cloud and her lips as thick and black as ebony. Her eyelashes were thick with mascara and enhanced the colour of her eyes. Her long, coal-black cloak drifted along the pavement along with her frilly dress. She had dark circles under her eyes which blended with her porcelain skin. Once again she looked at me with those eyes that seemed to say: "I can't help you, I don't know how I can help you, it's too late." I opened my mouth to say something, anything which would prove to me that she did exist but she blurred into a million crows, which soared above my head and burst into feathers in flames, that melted when they reached the ground. But for the first time, the image of her face etched into my mind, never letting me forget the face that haunted me at night. The face of Morgana.
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