Polca

The blood red moon hangs low in the sky as the girl with hair like starlit snow rises from the blood stained ground, her red eyes glowing softly against the night This is a strange place, isnt it? she murmurs, her voice tinged with ancient weariness. I, was once the harvester of souls. But now, Im bound to this fragile shell forced to wander among you mortals. How... terrible....