And so, with fleeting summer wing,
The sun, the prince of all the skies
Did smile his last upon his king
And bind himself to his demise.
By flames he was consumed.
I couldn’t look. My eyes burned even though they were shut tight. Thunder rang so loudly it was like tearing paper in my ears. No key could contain this. This was more than forging--this was pure vitas burning from his fingers, alive of its own accord. Surely the entire cavern would collapse down on us--or else, if Espen was made to continue for long, it would tear him apart--
The young man’s voice impossibly rang louder than the thunder.
Espen, from my Azon series.
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