Writing is a great place to lose oneself, and pour it all out. Here is the beginning of my cherished writings.
A whisper on the crisp wind, falling across the barren winter fields, weaving through the trees.
Such a searing sense of dread and despair fell upon her as the old woman crashed to her knees. Fate had come. Terror rattled her bones, and the fear of what was to come made her very blood quiver.
Alas, she knew it would dawn one day. Instead of the slow creep of time she had expected, the dark future had descended. It would always be too soon in her tired and pained eyes. Time was running out.
And as her breath came to a grinding halt, a solitary note followed, a crescendo. A deep resonance that shook her to the core. Then silence.
Across the clearing, two separate sounds reached her ears. It all intertwined with that singular note. Hope. Gripping her gnarled cane with withering hands, she rose to her feet, the music wrapping and binding her in strength. And deep within Nona Lex Exol, it set her heart burning, her fractured and weary soul aflame.
Those distant echoes; a heart wrenching bellow of grief.
And a newborn wail.
Fate had awoken.
Last edited by RaeNoctem : 12-01-2020 at 04:19 AM.