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...the beginning of a story inspired from an artwork. |
Morrigan’s Sword In the light of a dying star that flashed an icy pattern of fractals across her face in rainbow hues, Nia stirred. Turning in her sleep, she reached for a fragment of a lucid dream, fast escaping into the tunnel of deep sleep; it would vanish if she didn’t wake now, to record it. In her dream, she’d been crawling across thin ice, seeing herself mirrored in its crisp, cold surface briefly, before it cracked across with a resounding groan. Nia felt the pain as her hands glued themselves to the ice, trapping her in the pellucid grip of winter. Wolves howled close by. Fiery darts of Hoare frost followed the cracks appearing, rapidly now, in the lake’s surface …red, orange and deep midnight-blue flame, cold and deadly as they opened the thinning ice covering to expose dark, bottomless waters. She fell forward, the chill stole her breath; stabbing pain froze her eyes shut, her tongue to her lips, before she awoke the weight of the sheets entangled around her long limbs, tugging at her as gasping, she sat bolt upright brushing sweat soaked hair from her face. What had she seen? A figure crouched in the centre of the lake pulling at something; something shiny and sharp that had called in a sweet, high voice to her …follow …you must follow …help us to find Morrigan’s sword… |