The queen comes for her crown

The voice was familiar, much like Banshee’s. Deathbelle perked her mismatched ears and pushed herself to her paws. She ruled the night, though not as heavily affected by the sun thanks to the positioning of the alabaster waves that raced over her body. The call was quick to focus her attention and Deathbelle loped easily to greet the yearling. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Hannibal’s daughter and Ban’s sister.

She offered a small nod of her head in acknowledgement of her heritage. She wondered for a moment if the girl knew anything about her father’s disappearance. ”Greetings, young Klein.” She offered kindly. ”I am the Empress Deathbelle, what do you seek here?” She asked, wondering if the girl was coming home.