Duncan Harper

“Here grew willows and alders, their trunks twisted like giants’ sinews. Around them bark lichen bloomed blue-white in the darkness. It felt like a good place, where there was old magic.”

“I don’t think I believe in any god,” Merla said. “I think we make our own destiny. I think religion is superstition. Does that shock you?”Agata shook her head and smiled. “If the Goddess is kind, then she will allow you your doubts, and embrace believers and unbelievers alike. If she is not, then the witches are mistaken, and we should not be worshipping her anyway.”

“The wyvern swooped, but it was not to rend and tear but rather to bank and stare with one curious beady eye at the bodies of the minds that had touched hers in a way that no human had dared to do for hundreds of years. Such a slender and delicate creature, the wyvern thought, and so young, only a child in her reckoning, and yet with so much power.”