Dryad
We are the dryads, agents of softening, drinking sunlight, and dispersing the soil. Perhaps we too are enforcing some kind of strangeness upon the bedrock, but we were doing it long before you were.
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A Fortress
Sleep, friends — stop worrying and sleep.
I’m here to be your refuge, me and my blade and my body.
I am here to shelter you — a fortress made of shadow and stone.
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What’s Done
Do you see my beacon? Do you see the tower, lit and smoking like tallow? Now the world will know…
They will know the tower’s authority is not absolute.
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The Discerning Pacifist
“This is the sword of the Order. It has no patience for petty violence, no appetite for blood and flesh. The sword‘s purpose is to cut through oppression, to cleave the chains of the mind.”
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How Long I’ve Waited
“They told me I could come out when the sky turned red and the sun turned into the moon. Finally, I can move, I can open my eyes, and I can cross the threshold.”
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Sunlight Escaping
Every evening I follow
It always gets away
