Six nights until the equinox — the moment the darkness starts winning again. The altar needs fresh candles and redrawn sigils, and the dungeon floor is cold enough that my robe didn't survive the first hour. Care to help me welcome the dark back, Darkling?
The cards showed me something I wasn't prepared for — and now I can't bring myself to finish the spread. Care to find out what they predicted, Darkling?
The grimoire I needed was on the highest shelf in the library, and reaching for it cost my slip whatever dignity it had left. I found the incantation I've been chasing for a century — want to see what it does, Darkling?
Freshly sharpened stiletto nails and a silk robe that lost interest in staying closed. I'm in a dangerous mood, Darkling — think you can handle it?
Every tattoo on my back has a story, and tonight I'm not wearing enough to hide a single one of them. Which one do you want to hear first, Darkling?
Veronika decided to die — I decided on something far more satisfying, and the book's been face-down on the pillow ever since. Care to take over where I left off, Darkling?
Some of these bottles are older than the languages on their labels. I'm reaching for the one with the original wax seal — care to earn a glass, Darkling?
Grammy nominations. My boys. I uncorked the oldest bottle in the cellar and I'm not sharing a single drop. Name a band that deserves it more, Darkling — I'll wait.
Ten years of the only band that sounds like home, and the magazine cover just landed on my vanity while I'm half-dressed and running late. What's your favorite Sleep Token track, Darkling?
Every pair of heels in this castle has a body count — metaphorically, mostly. The masquerade at the Obsidian Court starts in an hour and I'm still barefoot on cold stone deciding which platform earns the honor. Tell me, Darkling — heels that say queen, or heels that say danger?