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Ruination foretold centuries ago advanced on this shard, this inhospitable, jagged slab of granite. 

A incongruent culmination of a fate plunged into motion, pelting toward its ultimate conclusion. Unstoppable. Unpredictable. Inevitable.

“Ah, my old friend.” A deep, insidious whisper. An icy, frigid puff twisting through silken locks, a murky mist accumulating, slithering around peaks.

Glowing orbs replacing sky-blue eyes. Gentle, fine fingers withering, curling into abhorrent razors, accompanying cruel fangs. Cael, or his odious, loathsome remains, emerging from an ebony mist, deepening the vile foil into inescapable blackness. A leathery monstrous span of opaqueness, once soft ivory, now obscuring the cosmos. 

Dara’s grip strengthened, hoisted her silver naginata, blade gleaming as she poised for the fray. Her shimmering luminosity glimmering, then emanating, interrupting the creeping, writhing veil.

A hardening heart for a necessary deed. An insurmountable pain.

Farewell, old friend. Until the ages reunite us once more.



**Image used by permission of artist: Copyright Lauren Smith 2019

**Story by: Kate Smith, Copyright 2019