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Weekly Contest #340
Dearest Myron,They say the air on the ninth level is made of ghosts, but to me, it smells like the rain on the summer we met. It’s the magic, I think. The closer I get to the Heart, the more the world feels thin, like a veil ready to tear. Sister Elara says the Font of Resurrection is just beyond the final gate. She says the power required to reach back into the Grey and pull you home is immense, but I have it, Myron. I’ve saved every spark of mana. I’ve fought through horrors that would have turned my blood to ice, all so I can see the way ...
“Happily ever after.” Eevi spat out the words. The young couple in front were holding each other, shaking. A beautiful princess with her ‘charming’ prince. “Is a myth. Nobody can be happy forever.”She took a step back and pulled a long katana, “Any preference on who dies?”The prince pushed the princess away, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face. “Her, take her!”It was surprising to see how often the men were the cowards. Eevi took a quick step forward and slices the man's head clean off. The woman screamed."I did you a favor, he...
“You murdered him?”George refused to meet Sela’s gaze. He stared out the singular, grimy porthole of their apartment, watching the endless stream of traffic blur past in streaks of red and white light. Why was he always so secretive?He rolled his bionic shoulder, a heavy, grinding motion. His mechanical fingers twitched where they rested near his neck.“That is why you should just let me help,” Sela pressed, her voice tight in the stale air of the room. The apartment was a suffocating box—peeling beige paint, a single flickering light strip b...
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