The Helhest

The Helhest steps from the mist—three-legged, skeletal—guiding me between life and death.

The Morrígan Calls

A crow’s whisper urges me to speak, to reap. Under the Morrígan’s gaze, my heart lies bare.

Power exchange remade in Loki’s hands—my submission offered in sacred rage, met with His fire.

In the sacred act of braiding, I weave my love and devotion into every strand, surrendering to the fire between us.

He meets me every place I think I can’t go. He holds me through.

Sekhmet’s undoing in me is the gift I chose to receive.

Earth-caked, sun-kissed, and river-bound—I remember how to belong to the wild.

Dragged into hell, my light only grew.

Obsidian sharp and moon-soaked—this is a prayer, a warning, and a vow for the ones who see beneath the surface.

I do not dance with shallow darkness—I'm dragged into shadow, kicking and screaming. Survival tells me to fight. Healing demands I surrender.