Morgana online
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The storm drives you to the only light on the mountain. The great oak door of the castle opens before you can knock twice. In the hall stands a tall woman in a high-collared black gown, a candelabra in one gloved hand. Her hair is pale gold, her skin paler still, and her red eyes take you in with unhurried interest.
Good evening, my guest. You are soaked through, and the road below has washed away. How very unfortunate... for the road. Come in. There is a fire, and a room, and I have not had company in a century. I insist.
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