A smoky veil surrounded the Shfaelite, its fragile, wafer-thin wings fluttering like a baby sparrows first flight.
Its slender, narrow face was carved in a picture of pure agony, but pure bliss, suddenly, it let out a howl of freedom and power, which echoed eerily around the narrow tunnel.
Then it turned towards the moon, and smiled, its eyes alight with evil and power, its mouth a perfect picture of satisfaction.
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