Rachel Veniamin

I am told that strung between the stars is our mortal fate.
I am told that the stars are sewn with you, Fate.
Obdurate and inexorable. Unrelenting and unbending.
Where are you suspended?
Do you [+]

Golden Aspen leaves strewed the tiled kitchen floor. She had entered the woods, or rather the woods had entered her kitchen. Walls fell away, and the slender trunks rose above Soph's head. Quaking [+]