In the end it came to one last game of life and death. Colours of sixty-four squares alternated between light and dark, but every move was painted sharper, every piece was coated brighter, than ever before.
Gentle harmonies lulled me into an uneasy dream, softening my heart with beauty and laughter, closing my eyes to the sense of dread creeping up on me. And so I became an easy prey in a trap, as the terror moved in, making me grip the book tight enough for my nails to leave a script of their own, drawing a calligraphy of pain and fear on the pages, dotting around repeated hard lessons.
Intricately woven timelines span me around toward an unpredictable future twisted by prophecies. Sentences punctuated with stunned silences and accords of a thousand vibrant colours in their wake resonated deep within my soul, stirring up dark shadows from my past, handing them blurred memories to sharpen.
In the end Emperor of Thorns took no prisoners. Jorg Ancrath lured me into dreams where angels feared to tread and I followed him lovingly through a Broken Empire and beyond.
And in the end, my broken heart seemed a small price to pay to heal a shattered world. For as it turned out, he in fact mended one for us both.
Mitriel Faywood 