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A remnant of someone who nearly remained
The Bellwarden waits at the corridor’s edge
someone calling from a distance he doesn’t answer
gleaming deity with wings like polished silver
Freshwater pearls
The Nocturne Compass winter A remnant of someone whoThey called it The Nocturne Compass, for the star at its heart seemed always to point towards midnight. Lovers once placed letters upon its threads, believing it could guide their words across distance and doubt, straight into the heart they longed for. By moonlight, the lace caught a silver sheen, its pointed arms stretching out like quiet whispers across a dark velvet table. Some said that those who traced its pattern by candlelight would dream of
