Bad enough that I’m standing on a turtle larger than Zofan’s five-acre property. Even worse that I’m here with hundreds of wizards and wizardesses for their yearly convention. Worse still that my mentor Zofan has partnered me with the arrogant apprentice Walfort. None of these, however, make my boots shake like dreading my yearly
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The place stank of dreams. Shattered dreams, stale dreams, rancid dreams. And nightmares. I tasted them all the moment I arrived. It was a stagnant sort of taste, like cold porridge served with moldy bread, as though nothing fresh had been dreamed there in ages. Not that I’ve eaten porridge. But I have
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Scriiiitch… tap.
The sound haunts my nightmares and plagues my every waking hour. The Detior’s talons scrape the wall as its cane taps along. Harbingers of pain and torment, no Detior truly needs help walking, but they all enjoy the sounds of suffering. Each cane is a single column of crimson death with
I stared at the animal perched on the Archmage’s hand. While its head resembled a dragon’s, it definitely wasn’t one. It was a brown, fluffy bird with big eyes and a tiny beak. The bird lifted a wing and began preening its feathers.
I bit my lip. “Are you sure this is my familiar?
I gazed at the distant horizon, where the sky met the sea. The indigo twilight slowly faded into the dark ocean.
Something in that vast emptiness called out to me. It was more than just a vague desire to see the world. It was more of a beckoning. Like a beacon from a distant
Oscar nipped my ear and whined. I yelped and swatted at the ferret on my shoulder, unease blossoming in my chest. “I heard you the first time.” But it wasn’t like I could go in there.
The house in front of me wasn’t really a house. It was a mansion, all spires and towers
Deirdre stood before me, framed by the mirror, her blue eyes glistening. Typical. She always seemed to be on the verge of tears.
“Nimha,” she called, pressing her hand against the glass.
I emerged through the mirror and slithered onto her hand. “Yes, my queen?”
She stared at the glass. “Who is fairest
The world turns cold, leaving me drained and human. I lay in a patch of mud, my head pounding. A parting gift from the transformation. I lift a hand to rub my temples, and the glitter of my chipped nail polish catches weak starlight.
The tattered remains of a dirty yellow sweater cling
Senn needed a human host soon. His pickiness this time did not help. He had skipped at least seven compatible targets, but he did not have time to work with a child. If he could not find an adult worthy to live in soon, the mission would fail.
He zipped down to a
“I’m warning ye Elial, if it happens again, I’ll destroy yer vermin pets meself!”
“My wyrms didn’t touch your sheep, Malchi.” Elial fought down his irritation. This was the second dead ewe found mangled in Malchi’s fields, with neighbors suffering similar losses. No one knew the culprit, but many placed the crime squarely
“Rats in the grain again,” Farmer Jem mutters over breakfast while he tears into his slice of bread smothered with jam and cream. He doesn’t even glance at me, but Mrs. Jem does, shooting me a narrow look that makes me squirm.
“You know what that means, Kitten.” She sets a thin crust
In the plains below us, tall grasses part as the rest of our hunting party appears near the edge of the grazing herd. The older olagonas close rank around the yearlings, still wobbling across the ground on spindly legs.
“Do you feel it, Tauv?” asks Leal.
I close my eyes and reach out
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