Ever since his first death day—the day he’d seen his parents slaughtered—Vel had possessed a fascination with mortality. As a result of what he’d witnessed, he had two options: either go absolutely bonkers from the atrocities he’d seen that day or view each death as a celebration. Infuse some humor to the occasion,Read it now
Tag - shifters
“Have you ever wanted to—”
“No.” Brix adjusted his brother’s tie, expression unchanged.
“But you could—”
“What’s the point of being Captain of the Guard if you’re not going to use it to your advantage?”
When Brix didn’t answer, Moxly sighed and turned towards the mirror. His clean cut,
The Veil between worlds smells like overripe fruit, a deep purple scent. Cloying. Decaying. Bruised.
The sanitized atmospheres of living worlds lack the depth and complexity of abandoned realms. They never smell like the Veil, suffused with the scintillating aroma of death.
I breathe it deeply.
Its heavens, ever-clouded. Its ground
Splashing and laughter drifted to Veya from the hot springs. She peeked over the clump of sunbaked rocks to where her sister Vasilisa treaded water with her two attendants, chatting about the Fox Clan’s latest marriages and births.
Two of the things denied to Veya because she was Peltless.
Vasilisa glanced up.
Noah perked up as the call came through. Another nighttime commotion at the old, abandoned fairground.
“Dispatch, I’m at that end of town, I’ll check it out.”
Noah turned at the junction, towards the site.
On the outskirts of the small town, it was a relic of its heyday, bankrupted by the advent
The words echo in my ears, but this time, they’re not aimed at me.
I’m not a shifter, merely an illusionist. It’s people’s eyes who change, not me. We can take on a few characteristics of the animal, like super-speed, flight, or deep-sea swimming. And even if it weakens my other senses,
tore through the woods, paws churning up soft dirt. The smell of mud and recent rainfall filled my snout as I raced through the bracken, desperate to reach the castle. Her scent was fading quickly. Soon even my powerful senses would be useless.
But I had to keep moving. Please let me be on time.
No one notices a lamp. Like, you wouldn’t look at the lamp in your living room and think, “Wow, I really need to watch what I say.”
Of course not. You’d say whatever the heck you wanted.
That’s why I’m currently on Senator Harold Altenstein’s coffee table, listening to him explain