Iridian
Just some small-time drug and elixir dealers, nothing to write home about.
Each night, I’d pull Dain’s notebook out from beneath the mattress, and lose myself within the pages and lines of his thoughts. I felt his loneliness and despair over losing his family—a family not nearly as close or kind as my own. My eyes watered as his demons came for him time after time, my throat clenching as I realized how hard he had fought, just to remain alive for his kingdom.
No matter how many times I read over those pages of declining sanity, where Dain had let the white bull in, I couldn’t figure out what it had asked of him.
Bab Populer