The cart rattled over the cobblestones of the old city, a sound that vibrated through the soles of my boots and up into the marrow of my legs, a mechanical rhythm that seemed to mimic the frantic, arrhythmic beating of my own heart, which had long since ceased to pump blood and now pumped only a thick, viscous fear that tasted of copper and rot. I was walking, or perhaps I was being carried,...
You stand at the edge of the obsidian cliff, the wind tearing at the hem of your tunic, and you watch the last of the caravan disappear into the gray mist below. It is a strange thing to feel relief when you have just been betrayed by the only person who ever looked at you with kindness, but you feel it, a cold and clean sharpness in your chest that replaces the dull ache of loyalty. You are...
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