She is worshiped as a goddess throughout the land, yet she never feels loved. People from all over come to sit at her feet, praise her, feed her lies about how they will devote their lives to her. But she still has never found what she needs, what she longs for. Her powers prevent her from having a significant other; whenever people see her, they are drawn to her. But with that draw comes an addiction. She reveled in her power in her earlier years, but she began to want someone. But none that knew her could love her; there was only a lust, a wanting. Never a love, a warmth between her and her followers. She tried locking herself away, but they protested; found her, tore down the walls, attacked the barriers and force shields she had set up. She can not kill herself, for she is immortal. All she can do is sit, wait, and be worshiped. Never shall she love, nor shall she be loved. She will wither away until she is merely a shell of herself, and she shall still exist. But she will dream, wish, hope for this curse, this power to rid itself of her, so she may die it the arms of the one she could never love.
