Yet something unyielding within you refuses to simply roll over and accept her wrath uncontested. You are Anon, once the beloved of this peerless mare and consort true of the Night Court itself. Though you fled like a craven wretch all those centuries ago, it was in pursuit of a solution—the ability to stand as her equal unbounded by mortality's cruel constraints. A dream unforgivably poorly realized, but born of naught but the purest desire to spend eternity at her side.