The Harpy, Celaeno
“The Harpy, Celaeno,” read the brochure. “The Dark One, the Duskbird. She heralds the coming of true Night; she is the End of our world. On display by special arrangement at the Midnight Carnival.”
I could feel her cool regard from the shadows of the cage. She hated me, a hatred as pure as joy. She cast hate like a shadow.
“Why?” I whispered. I shivered in the summer air, and dared draw no closer. “Why do you hate us?”
She smiled. “Because my heart is broken,” she whispered back.
