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The Muse

A creature that drives inspiration and passion in the soul of an artist.... Why is she charmed? She has become enthralled with her subject. The artist has rendered her to her knees.
4 years ago. May 23, 2019 at 8:33 AM

If anyone is interested in following this story... Here are the links to what I’ve posted so far.  I’m hoping to stir my inspiration a bit.  

 

The first two pages of Chapter 1

https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=33654&postid=10135

 

The next two pages of Chapter 1

https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=33654&postid=10165

 

An excerpt that takes place after Chapter 4

https://thecage.co/blog/userblog.php?blog_id=33654&postid=17599

 

This next segment is an excerpt that I have yet to decide exactly when it happens but most likely it will be the beginning of Chapter 5.

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The moon caused the swirling sands to sparkle like the dust of the faerie folk. Each grain danced with the cool breeze, hindered only by a few jagged peaks of rough pale stone. Qellia stretched her wings in the soft light, creating a lacey pattern across the ground. It wasn’t until the air stopped moving that she realized she wasn’t alone. Grains of sparkling dust settled at her bare toes and her gaze drifted upward to the peak of a dune about twenty paces away. Four dark figures stood, swathed in darkness; only their pale white faces could identify them as T’alu De’an, The Dancing Dead.


“Four. I thought…” she murmured.


“If you thought there were five…you would not be wrong, Dark Mistress.” The words came out in a low hiss and it was difficult to discern the gender of the voice.


Qellia turned around to find “the fifth” standing only an arm’s length behind her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The moonlight provided little revelation about the figure that faced her from the dark recesses of the shroud covering most of its human-like body. The face was white with coal-black caverns for eyes. A skull? A shiver coursed through her, like a soft drumroll. She squinted and leaned toward the figure.


“He has her now. Meadowlark is gone…They have this all wrong.” Qellia pressed her lips together and placed a hand over her heart for a moment.


“Wrong is relative.” The figure turned so that just its profile remained visible; the pale face now concealed by the side of the hood. “Everyone has an agenda. I imagine Xy’ir would consider all of your efforts…wrong.”


Qellia could almost hear the figure smile.

 

 


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