It were Beathan who first laid eyes upon the bones lodged between the rocks along the salt sea, looking like so much driftwood whitened by the sun. Tangled all around with long strands of golden hair, they were, as if bound in a most precious net. It were mournful to see.
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My name is Gaspard Jerome Masson, and I have one regret.
The last word smudged beneath the old man’s trembling hand. He drew a breath, then continued writing.
Her name was Marie.
###
June 6, 1944
Rennes, France
“Gaspard! They’re coming!”
Gaspard shot up from his seat. Marie burst through the door of his small apartment
Today, the war ends for me. That’s what I tell myself, as I enter the royal suite. One last mission and I’ll satisfy the debt binding me to the Great Lord.
Darkness envelops me like a friend. My hand closes around the hilt tucked into my servant’s dress as I step over the snoring maidservant at the foot of the royal bed.
Earth Station 23
The temperature systems hummed.
I tapped my knuckles against my palm, trying to think, but getting nothing but tightness in my chest and throat.
Stinging in my eyes.
Therrus had told me once that tears, fascinatingly, were the universal expression of grief… Human, Civaran, Klibian…
That didn’t help right now.
Brava folds her arms and glares at Frana. “Is this necessary?”
Frana scowls. “You aren’t wearing armor to your wedding. I forbid it.”
“I’m a soldier.” Brava glances at the Multiversal Bridal Boutique. Elegant wood paneling, a carved sign that marries electricity and magic. The proprietor’s from a fantasy world, backwards places
“Lord Paraguin.” My advisor hurried after me. “We must do something about the land Lord Egerton seized.”
I quickened my pace with a huff. Think! That was never my strong suit, but I was thrust into this role after barely reaching adulthood
So many promises. So little time.
I raced over the mossy ground.
We’re counting on you, Spark.
My sister, Quietus’s words rang through my mind like bells in the village square. She was right. No one else could do this. I just had to
It’s too quiet without Henry.
Belinda blinks back tears as her nimble fingers work in steady circles, her pestle grinding brittle leaves into fine dust. They were supposed to have a lifetime together—not three short years. Not before she had the chance to find her first grey hair.
But some illnesses, it turns
In an oak-paneled conference room at First Freedom Fiduciary, I scowled from across the oblong table at slick-haired CEO Maurice Meltonshire, whom I blamed for Joe’s death, and a cadre of lackeys and attorneys.
Joe’s attorney, Allison Raymond, clicked a remote, and the video projection screen flickered on with the image of my late
The snowstorm hit without warning, and out of its white curtain, the stag king appeared. From the sides of his head, antlers towered above elongated ears. His impressively broad shoulders bore the mantle of a white deer hide, and he stood a good two feet taller than my average frame. The rest
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I stood beside a cliff’s edge above the Pacific Ocean, preparing to jump.
Theoretical physicist Wanda Pepper stood between me and the edge. Her cropped, raven-black hair had a stray, orange-dyed curl in front that bounced when she moved toward me.
Wanda patted the electrodes on my chest. “You’re all set.”
I scratched the
Muzzy from sleep, I worked my way up from under the soil.
The Alarm has sounded! We must rise!
After emerging, I dusted off my tattered clothing, working gently so as not to abrade the grey skin on my palms. My shirt appeared more frayed than last time.
Well, what did I expect?
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