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“Poor little princess.”
The voice reverberated like a dark melody, like putrid oil. The darkness swept around her, an animate being, almost human now, swirling through the air.
“Her father dead, her kingdom gone. All alone. So fine, so young. Too young to die.”
“What is this?” Irina managed to say, her voice hardly a whisper.
“This . . .” It chuckled. “This . . .”
Irina stood slowly. “What are you?”
“The When.”
“What?”
The darkness laughed again, and now it seemed to form something of a face. Eyes like black holes stared at her while the mouth laughed.
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