The Nightward Scale forest the world trembles

the world trembles

She wakes on the sand with salt still sharp in her throat

It lands between two hands

It stays loose in her grip as she turns back toward the deck

Verdrynth’s breath was the chill of dawn mist

The Nightward Scale forest the world tremblesThe scales scrape faintly against each other as we move through the alleyways, shadows bending toward us like obedient servants. Every step is measured, every glance checked but the necklace does not tremble. The spikes hum with anticipation, the black scales catching what little light there is, reflecting it back as warning. We do not speak; words would slow us. The air tastes of rain and old stone, thick with the scent of smoke from lamps left