Inkling
Elegant, even in the brewing storm, anchored in the chaos.
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Sollin seemed as old as the sea, and as arcane and wise as the great albatross that roamed the skies above the great coastal plains.
Could this be the answer? Spending time with a scholar of the Dark Arts seemed as though it could offer its own sort of excitement.
Rose was not just a peasant, but a woman too. Used to accepting her fate and stripped of any choice, this presented an interesting opportunity.
Rune Bearer’s travelled across the continent, their gift rare and unusual.
He slept more soundly than he had done in a long time as he awoke to the sound of the sea, the sun shone brightly through the small window, creating a beam of floating, rolling air.
The Three Sisters wake from their deathly slumber to roam the cobbled streets of the town, taking the souls of the unwitting.
I watched her scrub the blood stained linen. Diluted pink liquid running down each of her delicate olive toned hands.
Ancient unknown. The thickening scent of earth heady with decay, rotting things and rebirth.
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