They have followed the bobbing lights in the dark, the will-o'-the-wisps that haunt the tall pines. They have gone to the fae, some laughing, bright, mischievous; some quiet, poised, with the weight of centuries on their slim shoulders; and some creeping, whispering, with blood on their pointed teeth. They are with the fair folk now, and no God on this earth can save them.

30 tracks