Consummatum est.

  The time was before sunrise. The woman was not woken up by dreams or shrilling sounds. Word did come from time to time, about someones’ passing or simply a need for permission to kill. The woman would nod and nod and nod and sometimes would go to the Valley and pray.

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  Her blood had once more spilled the ground of the Cove of Sin.

  It’s been done, echoed through the air.

  Long live the Valley of Sins

  Long live the Red Bird.

  ?~ [?] ~?