“When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know”
~Fleetwood Mac
Hidden. It is hidden away.
The eternal showers of Merathu fall in great globs of darkness, and the shadow of their clouds veils a starless night. The unhallowed heaven bleeds and weeps, that sanctuary torn by endless war. Torrential rains ever fall over those soggy plains. This is the land where I have hidden my heart.
In a weathered, stormbeaten tower, it beats a quiet rhythm through the night. You will find it by your ear, for it still struggles in that lonely fort, struggles amid the darkness of those stones. Outside wails the stormy gale, and the ceaseless downpour pounds. Inside, the clear and regular thump, thump-thump. You will find the rain pelted tower in the sinking mire of Merathu.
If you should question then, that you have found my heart, or that it is another you have found hidden there, look for this, a black, unwholesome gash of necrotic decay. That is the mark which shows it is my heart.
Under the rain, under the stone, under the wound, my heart beats. There, I can be killed.
Tale Told 