Its scaled visage watches through the holly wreathed window whilst rising waters wash my bloody sigil off the hearthstone. It was my last resort, instructions bequeathed by my dying mother before she dove into the deep river waters. Earnest emerald eyes pleaded to join her at my end, by the side of Belisama. My family was eaten by the pox before I could gift our birthright, and the river surrounded my lonely cottage before I cut my hands and made the marks. I slide into the water, the final handmaiden, and catch a flash of emerald within that awful face.