Cybiline

    The week before she was to be taken up the mountain was one of the longest weeks of Psyche's life. It seemed like everything was in a fog, and it was because of that fog that allowed her to stand up. Her heart and her head ached terribly, her limbs felt as if they were made of lead. She stood before a floor length mirror, in a tailor-made wedding gown in the Grecian style. A creamy white with emerald green accents. A sigh escaped her lips as she touched the cold glass that housed her reflection.    "Psyche." Came a voice from behind her. Turning around, she saw one of the hooded members of the religion that the islanders had created aro