We came for our Lady, though she knew it not. We reject the false balance; Winter is no opposite but a blight, and M– no queen but a guttersnipe whore. We would have freed the Fey of her tyranny and restore the Garden of Chaos, the Rapture of Summer Growth Unending. Our Lady’s rule unbridled.
But we were tricked, deceived, played false by our Lady’s consort. The ram-horned drunkard revealed this path to us, claiming it led to the heart of Winter beyond the ken of its Queen. It was not. We were stalked, harried from our first step across the ice to this place. We made it not an hour before we found this chamber collapsed, the way blocked. Were beset upon first by unnatural creatures from the river of ice and then slain one by one by the minions of Dreams Made Flesh. Yes! I name them. Let them come, for I shall be dead long before. They dragged my companions away and left me pierced by my own arrows. I have lost my sword.
We betrayed our Lady of Summer, though we sought only to serve, and for our vanity we are slain. Let these words be my grave, to bury me in the hubris of the Seelie Court.