Evolution of my creation "Ophelia" with the great loras "Dark" and "Froudulent"

Ophelia, to what sleep awaits beyond the ken of comfort or care, has cast off into that unknown country, beyond the snare of melancholy or ardor's anchor. Hair fanning out like angels wings, face pallid as snow, drowned in the river's sussurant arms. Dappling sunlight paints the water a spectral canvas, where her silken gown floats, now a ghostly shroud.

In deaths dream demesne Ophelia drifted apart, cares, woes and loss fell away, she drifted into the luminous hearth of the stars, where endless aeons are forged and fractured into the life ages of the universe and there became as stardust, a winking mote in the cosmic tapestry.