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Black Shudder Chapter TwoChapter Two
I woke around noon the next day, which scared me.
I dressed quickly in new rags and a dress to go over. I ran out to the kitchen, Daiken and the Mistress sitting at the table and talking.
"W-why didn't you guys wake me up?" I wondered, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. Daiken smiled.
"You were sleeping so peacfully; it's time you got to sleep in." I sat at the table too, looking at both of them carefully. They continued talking to eachother; something about how the Hinish Village was planning on joining the war too.
The war wasn't something that anyone liked to talk about. It was among the western parts and the eastern parts of the lands, and now, it sounded like the northern and southern parts were joining in as well. I was certain our village, St. Careloon, wasn't going to get caught up in it, besides the shock waves like prices going up and imports becoming scarce.
"Mistress?" I broke through their conversation. They both looked at me curiously. "Have you collected the v
Black Shudder Chapter OneChapter One
I never had any intention to be late; but Mistress Jasslee still let me get an earful when I arrived home.
"I told you to be back beforedinner!" She scolded, scooting me into the kitchen area. "Daiken and I have been worried sick!" I stummbled into the kitchen, the mister of the home, Daiken, smiling up at me, the table set with some biscuits and stew.
"Ah, Alys," he calmly greeted. "We've been waiting."
"I-I am sorry," I apologized yet again, feeling suddenly guilty for making them wait."I lost track of time, the sun doesn't seem to move as I swim around."
"Tsk, tsk!" Was all Mistress mumbled. Daiken smiled at me.
" At least you are safely home," he calmly said, clasping his hands together to say a quick prayer to God. He dropped his hands and turned solemn as he watched me dish my food. "It is said that bandit activity has increased lately; wouldn't want to get mugged or killed."
I only nodded in response, my mouth too full of stew to even speak. Mistress quickly mopped u
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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