Standing on the rock overlooking the small village, the magus feels the night's biting cold in his bones. Below, the shrieks of terror, confusion, and grief begin to reach his ears. With a heavy sigh, he pulls out a small picture from his pocket.
drip. drip. dripdrip. I desperately imagine the water in the cell as the sound of freshly filtered coffee squeezing its way past a new...
"Four Towers stand at the corners of the world. They rule the generations, forcing war and misery upon the land. Scholars, Generals,...
"Gah, I hated my old life," Dendre, the smith says. His hands are rough as well as his hair, and a long beard runs down the front of his...
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