Ciardha smiled as the vision poured forth out of the reflecting bowl. "Good, he has entered the property." The guards in the room chuckled and hissed, their laughter filling the room like leaves blown by an Autumn wind at night. Mortals chafe at the sound of a goblin voice, and usually are overwhelmed by fear, but for Ciardha the sound sent shivers of anticpation down her spine. Their mistress shushed them with a quick gesture as she watched with dark intent as Lorcan cut through her outer guards, the weak ones chosen not for their strength or skill but for their numbers. He wielded two crudely fashioned iron blades. "Clever little boy," she whispered as he sliced the head off a guard as easily as a knife through butter. Even through the reflections she could feel his anger, his hatred, his rage. So thirsty was he for vengeance that he did not know, could not see that he was only aiding Ciardha, walking into her trap and empowering the coming spell with each death he so eagerly dealt. Still smirking, she turned away from the bowel to her goblin horde. "Prepare the ritual, he comes! Soon, my Lorcan, you'll be mine forever..." So this is the long anticipated Ciardha. I've been working on her for quite some time now. I loved depicting the Fae's true person not as a being of extreme elegance, but instead fear and ugliness. Hop you guys enjoy!