llamaswriting

Sneak peek

Added 2025-07-27 19:07:45 +0000 UTC

"I'm listening," you say, trying to make out Nimue's face out of the gloom. With the bonfire a distant memory, the dark bleeds your vision of color. It's a scenery ripped straight out of your mother's notebook of charcoal drawings - thick, smudgy, fuzzy lines, the suggestion of shapes and depth. Nimue looks as composed and serene as she looked at the feast, as she looked by the bonfire - like nothing could ever shake her, like anything thrown her way she's already foreseen. Perhaps she had. (What do you know, after all?)

You expect her to drag the moment on, let tension build up to a painful, unbearable simmer, run you in circles while dangling more ominous remarks above your head. Instead, she surprises you by going straight to the subject.

"I know about the prophecy, and I have for a long time."