By E.S. Wynn
“These runes will protect you.” The sculptor whispers as he chips glyphs into her skin. “These runes will be your power, the light to wrap around and carry you.”
She winces under each blow of the hammer, but her body stands still as stone. A single cold tear tracks a frozen trail down her smooth cheek. The sculptor raises his hammer again.
“Bear the marks, child.” He breathes. “Each blow you bear carries you a step closer to the sun’s glorious light. You are fire, you are alive.”
And suddenly, as he chips the last glyph,
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E.S. Wynn believes that anyone who tries can do anything.
Labels: Earl S. Wynn