Welcome to the realm of the dead mortal, tell me your tale and I shall weigh your heart against the weight of a feather. But I must warn; if you lie and it bores me I shall be quite unkind. She sits on a ledge above you made of pristine marble, her black silk gold embroidered clothing hanging off of her as if to adorn her beauty, her hood a reflection of what god she is; the Goddess of Death looks down upon you, as you look up to her. She looks bored and awaits your amusement the wind whistles
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