Draint

Once there was a mirror accused by their clanmates of foul treachery. Bodies still warm and wounds still fresh, truth faded into the haze of vengeance and rage. For justice they rendered judgement, but for spite was its hand cruel.

To the world beneath the mirror was taken, bound and screaming. Their pleas ignored, their innocence inconceivable. Upon a head was blame to fall and theirs was the nearest to the gallows. To the depths the clan dragged their forsaken kin, to never see their chosen sinner again.

In cowardice, did they punish the mirror, wrapping them in iron and stealing their freedom. Consciences were clearer with no blood drawn; nature and the unnatural would kill what they could not. So they strapped the mirror to stone, speaking words of condemnation born from ignorance and haste. The mirror's spirit shattered within their shackles and their kin left them to a slow end, all eyes refusing to see what they had done.

With time did the chains break, with what small will remained did the mirror crawl and survive. Solitude once imposed was now to be embraced, only alone were there no lies to suffer. Their past and the punishment both cast aside, for perseverence required neither recollection nor retribution. In the Undercity did they live when thrown away and within the ruins they would live still, blood and soul tainted by its darkness... yet stronger for it.

In rattling chains and tattered cloth does the mirror Draint now stalk the land of the lost, free of the debt of another's sin. Alive and never again to be bound by betrayal.