The cry sends a chill through me, as it does every time I hear it. It always arrives at the height of summer, yet I pray this is the cycle it will not come.
But it does. It always does.
I take out the muting silk and put it in my ears and those of my beautiful daughters.
Ziff pushed open the squeaky doors to The Crooner’s Saloon and took a cautious step inside. A goblin hunched over the keys on an old piano, pounding out a medley filled with far too many flat notes. Two she-elves stood on stage, both dolled up in an overabundance of petticoats and ruffles,
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The sun shone kindly upon me as I sharpened my sword, taking satisfaction in the shink, shink, shink. A butterfly perched nearby on a blade of emerald grass.
My lazy smile widened. “Hello! It feels so good to be free, doesn’t it?”
A low buzz
With a deep breath, Avery squared his shoulders and entered the fray.
The Highfaye Ball attracted every well-born high elf and faye-blood lady in the city. Each with the single-minded purpose of ensnaring the wealthiest, most eligible bachelor of the season. Half-bloods like Avery need not apply.
Fountains, flowering trees, and the Pond… From the viewport, only those in the know would recognize Ernest and his parents’ destination as a prison.
As the airship docked, his father said, “Chin up, m’dear. It’s not as if the place were common. Rather like a resort, really.”
Roger struggled inside the sack, his head aching from the after-effects of the day’s overindulgence at the Tavern. When he’d agreed to a game of chance with an ogre, this was not what he’d envisioned.
The bag allowed in minimal light, and when he pressed
Professor Kaitlyn Valemon turned off the projector and faced her class. “So, if you’re ever in Ireland, make sure to look out for the fairy rings.”
“Have you been?” asked a student.
Kaitlyn’s heart panged. She’d always wanted to go to Ireland to do first-hand research of their myths and fairy tales.
Cazria turned the box over in her hands, admiring the silver wrapping and sapphire bow. She shook it. No sound. She placed it back on the pedestal and chewed her fingernail. Jewelry. It had to be. Earrings or necklace? Her father had called
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Kaloa headed for the water, surfboard in hand. The crashing waves roared the truth he refused to hear: he kept trying to prove he was the same rider from fifteen years ago.
He duck-dived through the break and surfaced in a prime spot. One, two, three paddles—he was up.
The river was endless.
It stretched like a vein of black glass through the dark, wide enough to swallow sky and shore alike. The air smelled of iron and salt. Each pull of the oar echoed like a heartbeat too slow to belong to the living.
The crowd cheered, and confetti fluttered through the air as people gathered on either side of the street. Trevon pushed with his elbows through the bodies blocking his path, gently cupping the treasure he held in his hand. Men and women grimaced as he passed,
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A roar from a nearby mountain blasted across the village of Torma. Dropping their wares, the inhabitants of the village pulled their cloaks tighter from the booming screech, but a young shepherd walked along as if on a mission, his head held high.
The noise ceased at the same time the sheep tender approached Mayor Lun.
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