She was a being ethereal, less substance than suggestion, bound to the mortal realm by little more than a crystalline thread of potentiality.
To some she was a deific figure, worshipped as the endless fount of inconceivable wisdom and unwavering love. She was spoken of in tones comprised of equal parts of unshakeable faith, immutable awe and boundless trust. Her presence was seldom known but, when felt, was akin to the touch of an angel’s wing against the cheek of a sleeping infant.
To others, she was the inescapable face of retribution, the arbiter of justice empowered with the indomitable powers of punishment and vengeance. She was spoken of by overtaxed mothers and under-appreciated servitors, believing her to be the avenging spirit destined to deliver unto the evil the full measure of that which they deserved. She was the skeletal fingers of Death Incarnate scraping panes of glass in the darkest hours of the night.