As if surviving the end of the world, and the theft of my powers wasn’t enough on their own, a heaping pile of Ogre and a side of human raiders has been added to my plate while trying to feed our starving caravan.
The worst of what I face though is far harder to admit. My black magic takes it’s pound of flesh every time I use it, and each time the cost climbs. And yet, it calls to me, seducing me, all the while consuming little pieces of my soul. It’s a right bastard like that.
I don’t know how much longer I can deny its strength, because in this world strength is safety, and safety is all I can offer those around me. May the gods have mercy on me, because I have it in me to deny the magic that blackens my blood any longer...
Shannon Mayer lives in the southwestern tip of Canada with her husband, dog, cats, horse, and cows. When not writing she spends her time staring at immense amounts of rain, herding old people (similar to herding cats) and attempting to stay out of trouble. Especially that last is difficult for her.