The shroud squirmed on the muddy, putrid ground, it's thousand fingers curling and wriggling for anything to hold on to. Stark, biting mist rolled over the dark expanse. The only source of light was a hundred feet away.
An apartment. A peer into a space miles from there.
The woman, appearance somewhere in her early twenties, came out of the dark mist. She wore a thin sundress, completely out of place in the restless darkness that enveloped her.
She approached the shroud of the Shadow Goddess and smiled at it. The goddess had an unique taste, and as disgusting it was to entertain it sometimes, she had come to love it.
She picked it up, brushing the sand off it with a gentle hand. The boneless fingers wrapped around her fingers futilely.
A sound came from the apartment a hundred feet away, and she looked up to see a rather small man going through the door.
He unlocked it with a key, opened the door, passed, and closed the door from the other side.
At least he thought he closed the door from the other side.
The door swung open just an inch, as if an invitation for the unwanted guest Torun was about receive. Torun would never notice, of course.
Torun would never even see it.
The woman smiled. Her soldiers were getting into formation and her war elephants were beginning to wake. Her generals were in training and the wind was on her side.
She let out an involuntary giggle, clutching her sister's shroud tighter.
The Goddess of Illusions really did like playing chess.
YOU ARE READING
The Misfortune Cycle: River Desert
FantasyIt was a case of theft. A simple one, really, since the volume of materials stolen and the particular means of transportation should've made the traces clear as day. But young private detective Torun Kiriti soon learned with his partner Ashraful Ma...
