PREVIEW
... rns hung from delicate woven threads, drifting gently in the warm evening breeze as if the sky itself had caught fire. Ribbons of flame-motes trailed through the air, summoned from countless floating pyres above the thoroughfares—each one dancing with the colors of the season: gold, crimson, and violet. The scent of spiced wine, candied fruit, and burning myrrh wove together into something strange and sweet and ancient.
It was the Festival of the First Flame, and the capital of the Arcan ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE