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Amber - 7 (An Order of Amber)
🕑 Added 2023-01-08 10:00:01 +0000 UTCI walked through the Market Square on my way to the tinker who'd helped me order my tools when I was starting out. Yesterday I had gone back to the Spellwakers, enlisting Myriam in helping me decipher some of the terminology in the book on curses Lottie had lent me. Even with my months of study in Dalaran, I didn't know all of the jargon used by Mages when they were describing spells. Just about the only one for curses I'd recognised was a Folian Matrix, which had come up in Divination.
Both types of spell, and likely others, had uses for a way to describe how similar two objects were in mystical terms. The laws of Sympathy were very useful at times.
On the whole I wasn't sure the books would be of much use, though having a catalogue of a variety of curse types was at least a place to start. The few segments on how to break or remove curses weren't going to be helpful, the more complex an Arcane spell was the harder it was for me to turn it into something I could use, and doing so from writing rather than observation of a casting... I didn't think I'd have much luck.
Mana Sight was a very, very useful cheat.
At least The Book of Ur was more interesting. A very large bestiary of creatures he had encountered in the realms tied to Azeroth; curiously there was an entry on Val'kyr in there, though not by the name of Winged Spectres rather than their proper one. So he had accidentally prodded the Halls of Valour, or maybe Helheim, at some point.
Most of his entry on Worgen was warnings, marking them as too dangerous to interact with and begging those that read his work to avoid drawing them into Azeroth. The way he spoke was as if he thought the Dream was an entirely different world, one utterly disconnected and separate like Draenor was. While he must have been an accomplished mage he clearly worked with things he didn't understand terribly well.
While largely the descriptions of the Worgen themselves reiterated what I already knew, the Worgen being strangely tied to using Shadow magic or corruptive curses alongside their feral strength, there were some other tidbits. He named a plant Wolfsbane for its effectiveness at warding away the Worgen, but from the picture I immediately recognised it as Purple Heartsage; something found in the Headlands and surprisingly tasty. Also a contraceptive.
I'd need to collect some, if it was a lethal poison to a fully cursed Worgen what would it do to someone still undergoing the transformation?
My stomach rumbled as I reminisced on the spicy taste of the herb, and a street vendor grinned, calling out to me.
"Hey, miss! You looking for a spot to eat?" He yelled, waving at me. "Fine morning for a treat, right?"
I glanced over, he was selling honey-glazed fruits. Mostly cherries this time of year, and they did kind of look tasty if not what I was craving... only to wince when I saw the price. "That's expensive," I muttered without thinking.
He chuffed. "It's the heat, half the summer fruit harvests' gone bad already. Just supply and demand, you know? I'm the cheapest here!" He waved his hand at the other stalls. "Got a supplier for the honey, I do. Better'n the rest it is."
"Little houses for the bees to do their beesness in, I imagine." A smile quirked at my lips, more at the fact I'd rather accidentally made honey an almost common commodity rather than at the pun I'd made. Proper bee boxes were ending up all across the country.
"Hah!" He laughed. "Yes, yes. You've heard of 'em, then?"
I shrugged, smiling wider. "You could say that. And..." Well, I had that coin. And I'd missed breakfast by sleeping in. "I'll take a bag."
"Right-o, miss!"
The harvest failing wasn't a good sign, especially not with prices soaring like that. It had been an incredibly dry and hot year so far but I hadn't thought it'd been that bad. Though now that I thought of it, didn't I have a famine in my notes? Part of the comments on Harvest Witches? I'd need to check.
Suckling on my treat I reached Tinker Coilgear's shop.
Or, at least, where it had been.
The grand bay windows displaying a tangled mess of gears and mechanisms, his grand Rube Goldberg machine for impressing upon others his skill and cleverness, was empty. Curtains the partitioning wall still in place barring the view further into the building but entirely bare, nothing but the red cloth on which the tinker's creation had sat.
On the other side of the door was the same emptiness, the display of his most popular wares missing. No spyglasses or lenses, no animatronic toys walking back and forth, no artfully designed revolvers that were popular with the nobility.
Wondering if it coming here had been for nothing I knocked on the door.
Faintly, muffled by the sounds of the market, I heard the doorbell I had grown so used to in my short time here rang loudly. They weren't gone, then. Tinker Coilgear was too proud of his knock-detection system to leave it behind.
After a minute of waiting I knocked again. "I'm coming!" A high-pitched voice yelled irritably. The latch shifted and a tiny little gnome opened the door, Coilgear's son Martin. "What?" He said, glaring up at me. "We're closed! We've been closed–" He squinted up at me, frowning.
"Hi, Martin," I said, not crouching down. The kid didn't like people pandering to his height; even if I knew he got a sore neck from staring up at us all the time. "You remember me? Gwyneth."
Recognition sparked in his eyes. "Oh! Hi," He said sheepishly. "Um, da's busy. Packing and shrinking everything to make it fit... but I could go ask him if he wants to talk?"
Packing. They were leaving. With how they'd been getting treated even two years ago when I was here, shouted at for 'taking our jobs' by the ignorant and stupid... it wasn't a surprise.
"I'd appreciate that," I said, and he nodded.
I slipped inside and clicked the door shut, leaning against it, as Martin dashed off into the back. So much was missing from what I remembered. There had been a toy gyrocopter that Coilgear had set to fly in circles around the room before landing on a re-winding station in the corner before, along with so many other things meant to dazzle and intrigue. But they were all gone. Bare shelves, bare counters, empty cabinets.
Sodding Genn.
Soon enough a rather tired and frazzled gnome, half his hair burnt off and the rest stark white, walked his way into the room. Other than looking more tired than ever he was much as I remembered him.
"Ah, Gwyneth!" He exclaimed, a bright smile forming on his face. "It's a pleasure to see you again! I've seen some of your work come through, well done with that pen of yours. Marvellous work. I've made a few improvements–" He stopped himself short. "Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. How have things been with you? I'm afraid I decided not to take your lord up on his offer. It was kind but things are playing out in a way I rather dislike."
"I understand." As things got worse for foreigners Darius tried to entice some of them to stay in his land, but it wasn't the most successful. Fact was that while the Crowleys were powerful lords... Crowford was rural, it was Ambermill and Pyrewood that were his largest towns. Barely a tenth of his land was within the wall and it was mostly forests, two small towns in Crowford and Northglade, and no real industry to speak of. Gilneas City was the centre of industry, and the reasons that Archibald had made for gnomes and dwarves to emigrate to Gilneas hadn't spread far beyond its walls. "Things have been well for me. I finished my spinning machine not long ago, though I've not patented it yet."
"Excellent! Was that fleece smoother yours too? I didn't hear about a patent on that one."
I winced. I'd made the Drum Carder and shown it off before sorting out how patents were made, and someone ran off and copied it. "It was, but, well... I've the pens at least?"
Coilgear chuckled. "Plagiarism, a horrid thing, but the mark of a true Tinker in many ways. Your work is clever, not fancy, but clever. Something we gnomes are not the best known for, I feel. The not fancy part, we're all rather clever." He smiled broadly, I knew part of why he came to Gilneas was that he liked making practical things as well as the fancier, but even then he was still a gnome.
"If a spanner isn't also a screwdriver, it isn't working right," I said, smiling back.
"And a good screwdriver needs at least three heads. For the Allens, Crosswires, and Turnstones." Coilgear bobbed his head as he passed the joke back to me.
We went back and forth, adding additional features each time and our mirth build all the while. It was a play on the traditional gnomish multitool, which I found miserably awkward to use but Coilgear enjoyed making.
Eventually we petered out, a true abomination of a device described with attachments ranging from an auto-head shrinker – for the discerning troll – to a fish deboner, for when you just couldn't stand preparing a low-class meal in the woods.
As our laughter failed, his smile did too. "As you can guess from the state of the workshop, we're leaving." He said sorrowfully.
"I assumed as much," I answered with a sigh. "Have things really gotten so bad you feel in danger?"
"Hmm? Yes, it's been bad... but not quite so bad as that just yet." He quirked his head, confusion evident as he peered up at me. "Oh, I suppose it is new news. Hah! New news! But, ah, you don't live in the city either. Just three days ago ordered that the wall be closed entirely in response to some plague in Lordaeron, no one gets in anymore, and no one gets out." Coilgear huffed and shook his head morosely. "Well, no one gets out after Midsummer. That was the deadline given for departures, and I cannot in good conscience remain here with things as they are. Certainly not without stable access to the outside world! It may have been good business and a good life, but things've changed and not for the better. And, of course," He puffed up his chest. "I am a Tinker! I have to be able to keep in touch with the Tinker's Court or they'll revoke my mastery! The very thought!"
His rant continued, but as blood pounded in my ears I found it hard to listen. My hands clenched at my sides as I forcibly kept a sad smile on my face. I wanted to scream and rage.
The wall was closed, and Genn was effectively throwing out those who weren't wholly embedded within our kingdom. Who cared at all about the outside world? With this happening I doubted even the dwarven miners Crowley had coaxed into moving into his lands would stay after the news reached them.
I took a deep, calming, breath and slowly let it out.
"I'm sorry, Coilgear," I said.
He halted mid-word, halfway through listing the things he would be unable to upkeep without supplies from Gnomeregan or Ironforge. "Whatever for?" He asked, looking at me oddly.
"For the utter insanity of my king," I growled, wilfully looking away so I didn't glare at my short-time mentor.
"Well, it's hardly your fault now, is it?" He said, "Why, if someone blamed me for the actions of High Tinker Mekkatorque I would be quite piqued! Even if I have the right to sit in the Tinker's Court I've never bothered. It's such a hassle, leave the politicking to the politicians I say. I've productive things to do with my time." He nodded as if it was the wisest declaration in the world.
It wasn't like I didn't agree with the idea, the idea of spending all my time arguing with people to convince them to do the right thing rather than just doing it... it sounded miserable. But if you left the politicians to politic all by themselves you ended up with self-assured idiots like Greymane in charge.
Someone had to keep them honest.
I really wanted that to be Darius' job, but I got the feeling I was going to get roped into it somehow.
"Anyway, I'm glad you visited," Coilgear said, turning and staring across his storefront. "I thought I put it in a package somewhere, no... Oh, I know I left it over by..." He muttered and walked off, scratching at his chin.
Remembering this behaviour from my brief stint here I leaned against a wall and waited. He got testy if you wandered off and forced him to find you.
'Apprentices should stay where they are put, not journey around!' Was something I'd heard quite a few times.
"Got it!" He yelled out shortly thereafter, a cry of triumph followed by his return. "Now, I was quite surprised when you won the Royal Patent, but it was well deserved! I hope you don't mind I took the liberty of filing for one in your name with the same design to the Tinker's Court." He held out a sealed scroll. "They granted it, not the first patent granted to a human, but still in the first hundred! First ten if you ask me, tweaking something so it works the same but in a different way shouldn't count. Ruins the spirit of the patent."
My mouth opened but no sound came out. I tried a second time, biting on my lip.
"I, thank you."
"Now, this doesn't qualify you for Tinker status," He said, cautioning me on being too exuberant. Though I felt more baffled and... touched than joyous. "But it does mean you can come to Gnomeregan at any time, present your certificate, and request an exam. Not that that would qualify you for Tinker status either, of course! Merely allow you to take a proper apprenticeship under one. It must have been a good hundred years since the last human tried, perhaps longer since the last human Tinker. There's a couple of dwarves who... oh, I'm rambling. And I know this is around here somewhere."
Coilgear rummaged around in the package he'd drawn the scroll from. "Now, as I was saying earlier, I made a few adjustments and improvements to your design." He pulled out a pen and a small stack of blueprints, on actual blue paper. "Most obviously to make it multifunctional." He winked at me. "But a number of other minor design changes that improve usability, ink storage and so on. And wear! Can't forget that, a Wulfram tip drastically increases the longevity of the pen's nib. The steel blends available here are... decent but hardly perfect."
He went on to list out dozens upon dozens of little adjustments he'd made, pointing them out to me both on the pen itself and in the blueprints. A better docking system for the ink vials with a docking valve in the vials themselves to prevent spillage, though I despaired over the effort that would take it would solve some of the mishaps I'd been having, and more like the jig he had made for hammering out a perfect pen nib every time.
It was fascinating watching him dissect my work, the difference between an amateur who was cribbing off of notes from another life and a true master who knew what they were doing.
I still disagreed with turning the pen into a multitool. It was heavy and clunky. But I couldn't deny it was a bloody work of art.
This was hardly what I expected upon seeing Coilgear, I'd merely wanted to show him my progress on my spinning machine and ask if he had any thoughts, but being given a gnomish patent, what was effectively him offering to take me as an apprentice, and so much praise for my shoddy work was an uplifting thing.
-oOoOo-
"This is a lot more boring than I'd thought it would be," Myriam said, leaning against the glass window of the stagecoach and watching the countryside go by. "How far is it to Keel Harbour?"
"We'll be there around noon," I said, marking the corner of a page in Catherine's Comprehensive Curse Compendium. Troll Hexes for turning people into frogs were, apparently, something recognised and well-documented as curses went. I'd need to look into that one more closely; shame finding a troll willing to help was a rather ridiculous prospect. "You didn't have to head out here, you know." I pointed out.
After a failed attempt to reach out to Krennan Arenas at the Royal Alchemical Society, where I was bluntly informed that the King's personal Chemist and Physician didn't have time to meet little girls, I had been done with my business in the city. After Tinker Coilgear finished packing up and left I didn't have much more reason to stay, for all the Spellwakers were helpful visiting their home was fraught.
I did take the opportunity to give the tinker a warning, saying that if the gnomes needed help they should ask; not just assume everyone was too busy. And that irradiation wasn't effective against creatures of the stone; whether dwarves becoming the avatar of the mountains or their dumber kin.
Whether he thought me crazy or not... well, he didn't throw me out or call me insane. And he was a gnome, he was clever enough to put it together when he got more information.
Myriam turned to look at me with a forced smile on her face. "I could hardly miss a chance to meet my future apprentice, could I?"
It was a decent excuse, though still rather easy to see through.
The infuriatingly bumpy road lasted all the way to our destination, though Myriam being there did make the ride a little less tedious than my last one. Though as she became more affixed to the window to stare out at the sea, and commenting on the salty air, as we closed in on Keel Harbour it became apparent she really was a city girl.
I thanked the driver as we got out, taking a moment to stretch before starting down the familiar road back to my old home. Emma would be surprised, which would be nice.
Bringing Myriam out to see Rosaline was the main reason I had decided to visit Celestine, but not the only one. Before I set off from home Darius had given me a number of letters; I'd deliver Baron Haggen's in person. It'd be interesting to see if he remembered me.
Or the Candren's, though I'd likely hand that off to a courier since we were in his lands.
Hopefully they bore fruit; not that I actually knew they were to do with the Northgate Rebellion, but I couldn't else why he would be sending out letters to such far-off lords.
"Not a terribly impressive place, is it?" Myriam said as we approached Celestine's farm.
I gave her a disapproving glance. Even if it was unassuming at first glance, simply comparing the place to everything we had just passed would make clear something was different here. Fields that should have been full of crops growing and flourishing under the summer sun were instead drying up. Even the stream that ran by the road, and I had spent so much time playing around when I first came here, was running awfully low. Barely a trickle of water running along its parched riverbed.
But the Tolbecker farm? Still vibrant fields of wheat and barley, flush green patches of cabbages and carrots and all sorts. All growing healthily where others were starting to wither.
"She's already noticed us." The little pulse of recognition was more apparent than it had been when I was a child. And now I knew how to answer it; Celestine would know it was me coming.
Being back here again reminded me I needed to visit my mother, I still hadn't seen her new home after Northglade was torn down to make way for the wall. At least Mistmantle actually used the coin Genn compensated him with to rebuild people's homes rather than hoarding it like Lord Todsmere had tried.
Feeling my way through Celestine's hold on her land I found her in her grove, and not alone. "This way." I waved to Robin, who hollered out a greeting as we passed. "Look more closely, Myriam, if you want impressive. There's more magic in these fields than your home."
I got the feeling Myriam and Celestine were fairly evenly matched, raw magical power-wise. But it was clear to me Celestine had far, far, more practice and knowledge of its use. Of course, being a mage taught by a member of the Kirin Tor Myriam had the advantage of more refined spells. It was fairly interesting to think of how they might compare if there was a proper way to measure such things.
As we got closer I started hearing the conversation going on in the grove, but to my surprise, it wasn't Emma talking to Celestine. Or at least, not just her.
"–don't force the tree to grow in a certain way, but encourage it by making the path you want easier?" An oddly familiar high-pitched voice asked.
"Correct," Celestine said back. "That is itself fairly simple, though the work is slow. Gwyneth never had much patience for it, she could make it grow faster but it takes time to properly imbue an effect into a token like this."
"I saw her grow a rose bush when we first met. It was very quick, but if done more slowly..." The familiar voice said.
"She does that a lot!" Emma piped in. "She likes roses."
I frowned, searching through my head for why the voice was so familiar. It wasn't childish, but it was still pitched very similarly to one. My confusion only redoubled as I stepped into the grove and saw who was present. Celestine glanced my way for a moment, smiling, but letting them keep talking.
It was Frazzle. The pink-haired gnome from Magus Corrinth's class.
What... what was she doing in Gilneas? What was she doing with Celestine?
"Adding intent is always one of the slowest parts of enchanting," Frazzle said, oblivious to my presence. "If you do it wrong the results can be random, but if you do it quickly you get null results; it takes time for magic to settle. You're pacing out the imbuement with the growth of the tree! Oh, I could see this making woodturning for staves obsolete. Of course, horrifically specialised, and there's all the additional parts that would still be needed to make a fully functional staff–"
She bounced excitedly, hopping up to get a closer look at the knot of wood on Celestine's oak that she was shaping into an enchanted token.
"–but of course, that doesn't stop it from being useful for other things as well. I made trinkets with my grandfather that were worse than this, and we were using silver and gold! Not mithril or Thorium, he never let me touch those. Witch Celestine, can you make different types? You mentioned strength, which I suspect falls under Bear or Tiger, but are you able to make Eagle or Owl enchantments? Those are generally considered more tricky."
"I can't say I've heard those terms before," Celestine said slowly.
I cleared my throat, interrupting Frazzle as she moved to explain. "They're descriptions of how a type of enchantment affects a person. Eagle and Owl impact the mind as well as the body."
"Yes, exactly!" Frazzle said, her large pigtails bobbing as she nodded her head. "Wait!" She spun around, ready to speak as she recognised me, but was beaten to the punch by Emma.
"Gwen!" My cousin said, she lept up from where she was sitting and threw herself at me. I barely had time to brace myself before she hit me and started hugging my chest. "You've come to visit! Mum, can I take the day off to spend with Gwen? Please?" She begged, staring pleadingly at Celestine.
"She has things of her own to be doing, Emma," Celestine said, her exasperation easy to hear. "Perhaps this evening. I'm surprised you arrived so quickly, Gwyneth. I only sent the letter four days ago."
Letter? I rubbed the top of Emma's head, as I looked at Frazzle. "About your guest, I assume. I have yet to receive it, I came by for other reasons."
Seriously, what was Frazzle doing here?
"I certainly didn't expect to see you here, Frazzle. It has been a few years."
She winced. "Yes, it has." She puffed herself up, visibly struggling to decide exactly what she wanted to say while Emma nattered on about the recent things in her life.
As much as I liked my cousin, I didn't care too much about which of the other kids was feuding with who. Especially not the details of how one of them fed another a mud pie.
"Um," Myriam said awkwardly.
"Celestine, this is Myriam Spellwaker," I said, pretending I hadn't forgotten to introduce her in my confusion over Frazzle's presence. "Lottie Spellwaker's daughter, and provisionally interested in serving as Rosaline's master in her studies of the Arcane. Myriam, this is Celestine, my former teacher. Her daughter, Emma, and Frazzle Tindersnap, a fellow apprentice from my time in Dalaran."
"Adept, now," Frazzle said, nodding her head. "You're wondering why I'm here."
I nodded.
"Your predictions came true." She blurted out. "Not all of them, but... but..."
She shuddered.
"I know about the Plague, the wall has been closed due to it," I said softly. Did she come all the way out here because part of what I'd told her had come true? I hadn't thought we'd been that close. "His majesty sealing the country. I'm surprised you got in."
"Oh, that..." She smiled wanly as she shook her head. "I made a little portal. Just a small one. From one side of the wall to the other. No one noticed! It took all day but it wasn't difficult."
"Impressive," Myriam muttered. "Mother always said teleportation was to pre-determined destinations only, we don't even have a hearthstone in our own home..."
Frazzle giggled. "It's my speciality! I think. Archmage Torigoth said I was good at it." Her expression quickly fell again, and she glanced at Celestine and then at Emma. "Should... I don't think I should..."
"Emma," Celestine said, her voice stern. "If you would fetch your sister, she should meet her future teacher."
Emma pouted horribly but didn't protest. Letting go of me and trudging out of the grove.
As soon as she was gone words spilt out of Frazzle's mouth.
"Lady Jaina went with Prince Arthas to find out what happened with the Plague. And... and he... Stratholm." She shook, her eyes wide. "They're dead. They're all dead. Prince Arthas Menethil murdered a hundred thousand people. His own people! In their homes!"
"Oh my word," Myriam gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
I swallowed heavily. The Culling. The Culling had happened.
"I wasn't supposed to know, but my great-grandmother, her aunt used to be on the Council of Six before she passed. She has connections still, at least enough to get news that isn't supposed to spread around." Frazzle babbled, her three-fingered hands worrying at her robe. "And I told my family about your predictions. After the plague started we paid more attention, checking things against what you said. It was when I got put on a team to investigate a victim that I really got worried."
She laughed, it was manic and had me worried. I crouched down, so very tempted to reach out and pull the distressed gnome into a hug.
"One of the plague victims," I said, a sinking feeling in my gut telling me where this was going.
Frazzle nodded. Behind her I could see Celestine closing her eyes; she'd already heard all this.
"We were working with Archmage Antonidas. He's the Archmage, you know? Well, of course you do. When you told your story you outright said he was part of the Council! And he must be. He must be. But, that... he wanted us to investigate one of the dead. I've done autopsies and dissections. They're disgusting but I was studying Biomancy, you do that." She said, her eyes widening as she stared off into some memory of hers. "But not like this. The Archmage, Antonidas, he... he did something. And it got up. The corpse. Half rotten, bones protruding, sliced open for examination... and it got up."
She held her arms tight around herself. "I didn't get touched. Not everyone else was so lucky. One boy needed stitches, magic didn't work right on the wound."
"I'm sorry," I muttered. My hands clenched futilely in front of me; things were going faster and faster.
"I... I can't forget what it looked like. Its teeth sunk into him. Archmage Antonidas burned it into ash, it never touched me... but... we started taking what you told me more seriously then. My family's packing up from Dalaran and leaving. I... my grandfather told me to find you. That if you're a genuine prophet we need more information. So, I came looking. I found your teacher, and here I am." She looked up at me, almost pleadingly. "Please, where's safe? Where... where can I go that I never, ever, see one of those... those..."
"Ghouls." The most basic kind of Scourge corpse, a simple body raised from the dead. Rotten and likely falling apart by the time it got anywhere.
"Those ghouls ever again!" Frazzled yelled.
"What– what are you– this can't be real, can it?" Myriam said, dumbfounded. "The Prince wouldn't kill his own people, would he? Is this some kind of joke?"
"No," Celestine said tiredly. "No, it isn't a joke. Gwyneth predicted the plague years ago. That the Prince would commit heinous crimes." She looked at me, something peculiar in her expression. "Though I think she understated events when she spoke to me."
Slowly I reached out towards Frazzle, then paused. There was a proper way to do this. "Frazzle, would you like a hug?" I asked.
For a moment she blinked at me, tears forming in her bright green eyes. Then she nodded, any attempt to answer choked away.
As I drew her into a hug she near collapsed into my arms. Whispers and cries about what she'd seen working with Antonidas came out in an incoherent blur. I shifted around so I could hold her in my lap, rubbing at her small back comfortingly.
"I understand that it is hard to believe, Myriam. But in truth these predictions are why I was thrown out of Dalaran; his majesty's decision to withdraw from the Alliance was merely an excuse." I didn't look at her, focusing on Frazzle. I felt... numb. I had participated in the Culling in a sick way, party to it through the Caverns of Time. A hundred thousand people?
A hundred thousand.
The number didn't feel real. It was hard to comprehend how Arthas would have even managed to do it.
A hundred thousand people dead and I couldn't blame myself. The guilt would eat me alive.
Even if...
"Perhaps some time to think would do us all good," Celestine said. "You are welcome to stay, miss Spellwaker. My daughter, my other daughter, would be delighted to meet you. Gwyneth, Adept Tindersnap, feel free to remain here."
"Yes, some time to think..." Myriam said, following after Celestine as she left.
Even if I had confirmation that my attempts to stop the Scourge, to tell people who could act in Dalaran hadn't been enough. I couldn't let it win, let those thoughts break me. My eyes prickled, tears forming, but I refused to cry. Not now.
"I can't say it will all be okay, but the Scourge will be beaten. They will be stopped." I said, as reassuringly as I could, even though I was terrified of what was coming myself. "I promise you. I saw it happen, and I was right before, wasn't I?"
My words felt so very hollow. The Scourge would be stopped... but not for so very, very long. After so many losses. So many dead. But they seemed to work, at least a little, as Frazzled nodded into my chest.
Comments
Quinn
It's an issue I'm aware of. It's something to do with the program I export things to after writing in Scrivener; Libre Office seems to do it consistently, Appache Office does it at random. Word is probably 100% fine but I don't have access to it anymore. I'll have to try googledocs, no matter how much I hate using them. Hopefully they'll work.
SkuddleMe
Loved the chapter, not sure if it's just a me thing but I noticed that there's no space after an italicized phrase on pateron.
