The blood of mortals is sweet on my lips. I hunt. I am not alone. Let
all those who have betrayed my Grand Sire and despoiled my name know
that the night breeze shall carry the scent of blood.

You have grown weak, for you have betrayed the Legacy. Your blood has
grown impure. But know that there are still true Consanguine in this
realm. We will find you, little ones. And then we will feast.

Grand Duchess Silmarillion Bahir'an

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Variach, in the year 67 MA.