Ember’s Heart #88

The funeral procession wound through the city like a sea of black cloth flowing between the broken and scorched towers, some of which still trickled smoke after two whole weeks. At its head the flood bore a green and gold coffin on a pure white bier and it followed behind a King wearing pure black armor …

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Ember’s Heart #87

The Singer was all there was. The Singer, and the Song, and the Wind that carried it. And she was nothing but an instrument vibrating with their praise. Feathers unfurled to the notes of the rainbows that danced in the sky after thunderstorms, each shaft shedding light in every color and whispering to the soft …

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