Three EighteenI have to write.Three Eighteen
If I do not, I will die.
It is not simply a compulsion that frequently takes hold of me; it is a need.
It is a need that dwells in the innermost chamber of my soul.
Lining the walls of the chamber are beautiful words, soft like velvet, cold like steel, but
Therein rests a small fire that burns blue flames across a pit of loneliness and heartache.
In the corner of the chamber, a high backed, deep purple armchair sits beside a wooden
Opening the small oak doors, it is revealed that the wine that was once thought to reside
inside the green bottles in the cabinet, is blood.
The armchair, intricately designed with detailed scenes carved into the wood finish, faces
A small iron lock box rests on the dark coloured floor between them.
In the case, there is a pen, and a needle.
Believing past knowledge will sustain me, I instinctively take up the needle, insert it
into my artery through my thin, tan skin, and withdraw a vial of warm blood.
Victory Keep: Chapter 3The court and its servants quickly grew used to having two centaurs on the premises, and Edgar was satisfied that both Xorie and Fipp were happy enough. He went to visit them every day, usually after Katrina's morning feed. He timed it so precisely that he often met a nursery maid in the doorway, with a full and sleepy babe in her arms.Victory Keep: Chapter 3
'How is the child this morning?' Edgar always asked.
The exact wording of the answer varied with each individual maid, but it always amounted to the same thing: Katrina was both healthy and happy.
'You don't have to come and see us every day,' said Xorie, some weeks after Edgar had lost count of his visits. 'We're fine. See, that dear Sarah has given me this new tunic. Mine was dying. She said it would last longer than leaves and flowers.'
'She's quite right,' said Edgar, looking at the simple suede garment draped over Xorie's torso. He wondered whether she knew it was made fro