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5/20/2025, 11:22:32 AM
5/20/2025, 11:14:00 AM
>>6242740
She thought she would never going to miss the Sun too much, but it’s the third day — day? — since she has landed in the Night lands, and Willow is starting to regret her words.
She is starting to regret a great many things, actually.
Breathing heavily, she she leans on her walking stick, trying to follow the crowd that is crossing over the makeshift bridge from one side of the river to the next. The murky water gurgles from below, in scattered whirlpools that seem to draw her wandering eye. The sky is always blotted by the dark looming presence of planetary ring. It looms low, the silvery dust blocking most sunlight, bathing this place into an everlasting twilight where only low shrubs and lichens grow.
This place sucks.
It’s worse than she expected.
The Holy Land might have been filled with dotards and maniacs, with their eyes permanently raised to the sky and their heads in the clouds, but at least they knew how to make life pleasant.
At least Argia is safe.
This is what matters.
She repeats this line to herself until she gets numb to its truth.
Her knuckles turn white against the wood, cracking it with her enhanced Strander strength.
This is what matters.
“Hey you!” Comes a harsh voice from ahead. One of their guides, a lean man covered in rags, whose whip crackles and wheezes in the air, points his crooked finger at her. “Get back in the line! No stragglers!”
[cont.]
She thought she would never going to miss the Sun too much, but it’s the third day — day? — since she has landed in the Night lands, and Willow is starting to regret her words.
She is starting to regret a great many things, actually.
Breathing heavily, she she leans on her walking stick, trying to follow the crowd that is crossing over the makeshift bridge from one side of the river to the next. The murky water gurgles from below, in scattered whirlpools that seem to draw her wandering eye. The sky is always blotted by the dark looming presence of planetary ring. It looms low, the silvery dust blocking most sunlight, bathing this place into an everlasting twilight where only low shrubs and lichens grow.
This place sucks.
It’s worse than she expected.
The Holy Land might have been filled with dotards and maniacs, with their eyes permanently raised to the sky and their heads in the clouds, but at least they knew how to make life pleasant.
At least Argia is safe.
This is what matters.
She repeats this line to herself until she gets numb to its truth.
Her knuckles turn white against the wood, cracking it with her enhanced Strander strength.
This is what matters.
“Hey you!” Comes a harsh voice from ahead. One of their guides, a lean man covered in rags, whose whip crackles and wheezes in the air, points his crooked finger at her. “Get back in the line! No stragglers!”
[cont.]
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