GI followed the familiar path and finally arrived at the pavilion.
The moment I reached the top, I glanced around and spotted her.
She was there.
Mother stood at the edge of the pavilion, gazing out silently as though she was lost in her own myriad of thoughts.
The moment my boots touched the final step, she turned.
Time seemed to fracture.
She was… devastating.
Silver hair, long and straight like liquid moonlight, cascaded down her back and over one shoulder, the strands so fine they shimmered with an almost hypnotic sheen.
Her eyes, matching that same ethereal silver, locked onto mine with glacial intensity.
They weren't warm. They weren't welcoming.
They were cold, piercing, the kind of beauty that made men forget how to breathe, then regret ever remembering.
Her face was flawless: high cheekbones, full lips painted a deep, blood-like crimson that stood in stark contrast to her pale, almost translucent skin.
