The message comes like a whisper, a tingle at the back of your neck, a shiver that runs fast up your spine. He may not be gone from this mortal coil yet, but he's already a ghost.
We're nearing the end now, but there's still time for one final act.
Should you find yourself brave enough, you know where to seek us out in the deepest, darkest corners of your hearts. Follow it down down down into the underground, just before the witching hour on the eve of the fifteenth.
It's time for one last challenge, one more shout into the void. Foolish boys shouldn't be so quick to throw it all away on one last hurrah, but the Morrigan still has a lesson or two in her yet.
The kings are dead, long live the kings.It's not a message that's been plastered all over social media but it will find its way to those meant for it. Between the pages of ancient library books, musty and thick with mildew. In the cassette tapes of song recordings you caught on the radio, worn from use. In the pockets of clothing covered in moth balls, largely forgotten in the back of your closets. In the kiss of someone who's betrayed you, not yet untethered. In the hearts and minds of those the Morrigan has touched before. If you wish to seek Her out, you shall find Her.
[ooc: In response to this post.]