Arionn marched through the unrelenting darkness and snow. Behind him Matthias’s boots squelched as the lad trudged in his wake. The day had lasted longer than either had expected, but lights finally blazed in the distance.
Naught is Calling
Allas clenched his hands as the voice whispered softly, a sound not in his ear. There was no presence near him. Not even the faintest flutter of breath. But the voice whispered, beside him, behind him, in front of him. Everywhere and nowhere.
Belongs to Us
Tillamon found Darlene in the statue garden, beneath guttering lamps. He sucked in a breath when he saw which statue she sat beneath, regretting it instantly. He coughed at the still hot air and alerted Darlene to his presence.
Novahelms’ Flame
Fendral, warned by echoing footsteps, tidied up her project before the latest explorer arrived. Fortunately, he didn’t keep her waiting long. His tall frame appeared in the doorway before she drowsed off.
Terrible News
Cain grabbed Ger’s hand, pulling him back. Before them, Jasdine stood a blubbering mess. He didn’t need Ger worsening her mood. Stepping forward he patted her shoulder. “Now there.”
Trafal has Fallen
Trafal has fallen. Not two days ago the cries proclaimed the decree, late one evening. The next day had seen a flurry as all who could left Trafal.
All Times Must End, Part 3
The long awaited third installment of “All Times Must End” has arrived! Why did this installment take so long? Because June was a cruel month this year, robbing me of health and energy. July… July was spent battling production issues and editing (just not this). However, both months are behind me and I am delighted…
Home Again
Kasten was delighted when he pulled into the yard after returning from Glenborough’s Fair. At least he was delighted. Telsilia appeared on the porch glowering at him. She tilted sideways as if he had explaining to do. Kasten was too weary for this.
Iramen’s Light
He heard everything.
Voices crashed over him all connected by Iramen’s Light. The waves beat his mind as he stood within the red glow. Yaiden held arms before himself, as if that created a barrier between him and the voices. It did not.
Etching Perfection
Cold seeped through Arlobin’s worn trousers. His palm pressed firmly against the rough stone and felt the chill equally. Even so, he knelt, tracing and retracing the runes in chalk.
