The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,30

in black maws as they grew. They measured each laugh, splash, and smile like a half-living clock, lying in wait.

When the sun set, everyone wordlessly agreed to put off their departure, which had been planned for sunset. Puffy white clouds slowly faded into wispy brushstrokes stretched across a burning fire sky, laced across the bottom on either side by the horizon, black as ash. The blazing orange crept into the day-blue slowly and surely as an inkblot, the two striking opposites creating a blend between them that was no discernible color. The ocean absorbed and reflected each new enthralling color and shade. A lone star emerged above the sunset, a single star that shone proudly like an adorning silver bead. It did not flicker, as many stars do, but held a constant and almost defiant light. It seemed, to Nameh, that it knew precisely where its place in the sky was. Clear and pure as a diamond, the star was soon joined by millions of others as the ink-black night swallowed the painted sun.

Just along the ocean’s horizon, a lingering golden stain streaked the night sky, the memory of the day they would always cling to. Melancholy set in with the realization that their time away from reality had come to a close.

Even sunsets, in all their splendor, give way to night.

###

End of Book Two, The Frozen Moon

Autumn

With dying arms outstretched,

Knotted fingers surrender

Pearls of red and gold at last,

Wasted on mere soil.

Blood spills on deep seas

Of turning grass,

Which willingly accept the sacrifice.

The end, and yet, the beginning.

Autumn’s bleeding tears

And hopeless stretch

Of lifelessness.

Open fields of gray-blue skies

And envy-inspiring greenery

Lead the way with their

Expiring torches through the

Folding ice of winter.

Spring will come, the Autumn whispers.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: AN UNCOMFORTABLE DECISION

She had never enjoyed speaking indirectly. Their day away from troubles had come to an end, and the pivotal question still hadn’t been addressed. Most of the day had been used to talk about strategy, and yet they still had no plan. Cal and Seth had seemed to know the most about the Vine’s protocols, considering they had the most training. They both agreed that the Vine wouldn’t be of any help to them.

Nameh was beginning to see why the three branches were becoming imbalanced and outdated. The Guild, the Vine, and the Guardians had grown corrupted, perhaps beyond repair.

“I know that no one wants to talk about this,” she began, bypassing the indirect conversation that bothered her and surveying everyone’s faces, “but we really have to consider what our next step is going to be. The Guild has clearly caught wind of what we’re planning, otherwise, the incident at the Warehouse never would have happened.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I think that whatever we’re going to do has to be done soon; it’s only a matter of time before they find us.” Max’s face was serious, but till held the traces of lightheartedness that usually played across his features. Even now, she could make out the lines where his lips bent into a smirk.

“Let’s go then. In the morning.” Mira said simply. No longer the timid girl she had met several years ago, Mira had grown strong and decisive. Nameh still sensed some of the same insecurities as before, but she had learned to mask them. She wondered if the ability to mask one’s weaknesses and pain had become synonymous with power or strength to her. Either way, it was certainly a necessity.

“I agree, the less time we waste, the better.” Talar didn’t speak terribly often, but on matters of importance, he was vocal. Wyd, who was becoming proportionally vocal as his comfort increased, mumbled something inaudible. Max nodded, but she thought he had been the only one to hear him. Seth broke into the conversation, if only to question Wyd.

“What?” Wyd dropped his eyes in embarrassment, but raised them again as he began to speak. Improvement in small steps, at least, thought Nameh.

“Well, I was just saying that acting right away might not be the best idea. That’s what they’re going to expect us to do; it’s probably just a trap.” The end of his sentence ended in a high pitch, characteristic of Wyd when he was nervous about presenting a point.

“It doesn’t even matter now.” Seth’s rough voice was calm. “If we act, they might find us, but if we don’t, it won’t matter anyway. We’re running out of time, and if the Guild can find the Relic before we do, we’re screwed.”

“Definitely. And not just us, basically everyone is screwed.