Estelle, Dracarae wings flared wide, caught the breeze. The night was her favorite. She loved to sneak, to steal. To kill. Night was the best for that.
Her mother and father were long dead, and she knew Weiss-that simpering idiot-had perished in the war; Balerion and Mori were alive and well in Tarben. They both had a mate, although she’d heard tell that Mori’s had recently died in childbirth. Amalthea was to be a queen, her queen, the fool. She’d be dead within a month. Estelle might even be the one to do it, just for the pleasure of another kill.
Willow was in Dawnshire, living out a mundane existence. What of Shuu? Oh, that’s right, he had been involved in a bit of Tarben drama. Estelle’s wish was that Cato had allied them with Tarben. Then, she would be flying into a war, a blissful battle.
She flew to the Firefly Forest, and she was perfect game for the spell of the woods, which dropped her dead from the sky.

“Bitch I run this show!”