Hail, Queen, who is known by many names: The cruel Lord is dead and gone. Show your eyes and speak your will. Let it carry across the green hills and the low valleys of Alba, across lakes and rivers and the narrow channel where your father lies. Henceforth you will be known in all lands for your cleverness and your justice. And of your unnatural stare? Let them call you witch, as they do any woman who professes power. All hail the Queen who shows the dark threads beneath the world to which the mortal gaze is blind. And now, we secret, black, and midnight hags: Our toils are ended. Our chains
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