“Akura’a!”

She was shaken from her slumber and met with a familiar face made strange, partly by her drowsiness and partly by the worry that seized it. It was Karkori’i’s. Continue reading →

Haveraul insisted on sightseeing. He hoped–though he would never admit it to Akura’a, though she knew anyway–that it would help cure her of whatever ailed her. Continue reading →

The three women that stood before Ysabelle were peculiar. They wore dark silk dresses, one with belled sleeves, another with a capelet, and the other with many flowing layers and ruffles that seemed to match the volume of her wild bramble of red hair. They were not servants or staff. Certainly not one of the ascetics that usually skulked about the library. Continue reading →