fiction – Page 74 – elancharan gunasekaran

the compass was drawn by a liar’s tongue true north shifts like a trickster’s illusion as bodies stray into the fog

a little luck can go a long away some might even say you are the chosen when the bard his fiddle and pride were the only ones left unscathed on his highstool after the tavern collapsed upon itself in all the mad merrymaking

I write to you in vain this letter pains me to report that yet another adept has been taken by the fires of self immolation will anyone ever be strong enough to control the fires of the flamefather we run out of time and the dark lords have almost breached the veil

human ceremonies are bliss by faeborn standards a fae bride receives three gifts from her maids of honour: something that rots a memory of carnage and a cursed incantation

in the winter cavern a dragon hoards names instead of gold it devours stories your history and existence forgotten in an instant

the stars tried to map the depths of this ocean they tried and now they haven fallen silent

here the mist does not part it lingers unbound a hundred threads trailing in the dark before morning

impermance is a shard of stained glass a trembling flame and the light that disobeys the very laws of nature

there is no glory in nature only the quiet harmony of dirt and decay

the sound of thousands of leaves wrestling with the pale blue sky