Philippa's short stories/Poems: WHEN MAGIC DESCENDS

Monday, September 14, 2015

WHEN MAGIC DESCENDS

In trance I hail a son of light Woe stings my lord; the fire deer quake. Vile, grey men seize his box long prized to drift in time and rouse The Beast. Zel gilds iron horns with ten sky jewels a red beam scalds fair tribes of grace runes blaze on hearts bound fast in coves A wolf pack snarls; it... Sign in to see full entry.

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