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Cover image by Comfreak from Pixabay. Max unzipped the case and pulled out the assault rifle.Any reason to believe I might have to use it? A man, whispers Violet. There was a man. A musician. I cant remember. We were in Keswick. She looks at herself, clean and scrubbed and dressed in soft pink pyjamas. “How did I get here? Wheres Catherine?” She closes an eye. “Wheres Freya?” Oh, sorry… Ill go … I didnt see you …, Her father slid a piece of paper from inside. It had been folded once. Id never believed in prayer, but the screams stopped, or at least I couldnt hear them anymore. Abruptly, the easy grin dropped from Indarins face. River Holt? Shes True Blood? He jerked away from Shan with a snarl. “She is, isnt she? She’shis blood kin. What are you doing with a Scion of Jern, Shan? Have you lost all reason? Not at all, says Rowan, shifting position and smiling. How are you doing, Scoop? Karen stood in the doorway.I think she has you on that one, Max. She passed the confused assistant behind the counter and bolted out into the shopping centre. People stopped to watch her run from the bookshop, her mothers calls echoing after her. Eyes that were not his own. Thin lines streaked across Samaras eyes. She blinked them away, distorting the phenomena into fuzzy bars of static. It seemed the lines marked the journey of the blade. Her face burned, still feeling the tip slide through skin and separate the firm muscle beneath, transforming her into something…better? Her addled mind now struggled with the concepts. Something…truer? Im sorry, I know that must make me sound like some demented housewife, she says, huffily. Her fringe flops down a little. Im not trying to get in your pants. She shuffled out of the shadows, her face very pale beneath the smeared mud. But that wasnt the shock. Her braids had been untied, every single one. Her silvery hair spilled about her face like the fibres of an exotic plant, iridescent in the near darkness. She must have seen his expression for she stopped and tried to push it back from her face, her fingers knotting in the unfamiliar strands. Indarin just nodded and swept outside. Jeren followed, surprised to see him waiting for her.You want them near? she asked in a low voice. His voice only barely registered with her. It was Shan. Her mate, her lover, her husband. Shan. Of all the wonderful pieces on display this year, one really stood head and shoulders above the rest. From the early designs and rough sketches, it was clear that something special was in the making. I will admit, I had concerns that the final version would not quite live up to the initial passion I saw in the first drafts, that a constant refining would dull its edge. This student did not just maintain that passion, but bordered on the obsessive, pouring dedication and precision to every brushstroke. Most importantly, this piece of art shows the very personality of this artist in intimatedetail, dealing with the darkness, wonder, and concerns of the self we all try and bury. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 1998 Varden Gleave is* * * Then Ill take them somewhere isolated, away from any of the races. Somewhere safe where they cant hurt anyone. Because if I dont... He glanced back at them. They want so much to kill. Not through malevolence, but because it’s all they know. They were Fellna and the magic changedthem. And me. I can’t desert them, my love..