There was once a little girl, a princess unlike any other with fine raven hair and bright blue eyes and she lived happily in her kingdom with her family and all was well, until it wasn't. The little girl grew and the problems started, the Strangers came. Odd people with stranger powers that cared not for those around them, at first they were thought to be perhaps possessing demons, by those that believed in the "fairy tale" but that wasn't right. They didn't exist, they weren't real, no one could prove it, and the little girl continued on in peace and ignorance.

Until she didn't, until she was a Stranger in her own body, or rather outside of it. She died, and then she lived and it wasn't her and she could only watch as the Stranger used her body for wanton acts, acts of affirming life in the most horrible ways, she watched and watched and seethed, wanting to stomp her foot, wanting to shout and yell. "It's my body, IT'S MINE!"

Until she didn't. The whispers carried her off, the wind moved her forward but she remembers and she knows, they're still there, those Strangers, and she'll find them and all those years, all those decades of nothing but watching, and waiting and biting whispers fine tuned her into nothing but force of vengence, something to torment those things that invade this realm. These Strangers that are strange even to the Gods and the Dead.

The whispers lead her, she hears them still, and they teach her things, things forgotten until they weren't and she remembers. They are Strangers to all but her, and she will make sure they know.

She remembers, and they should fear her.