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Despite his familiarity with Olivare’s power, Arshad’s muscles remained wound for flight, as elaborate, pulsing webs of gold energy flickered and died beneath her sweat-damp skin. She looked at him, eyes returning to emerald, and wiped a trickle of blood from her nose.

“It’s true,” she said, voice flat.

Arshad nodded. “Yes. Worse still, the Magus claims the dawn-web cannot be mended again.”

More blood trickled from Olivare’s nose and she swiped at it absently, leaving zebra-like stripes across her cheek and chin. It was dangerous to draw on the old magic, but damned lethal if the Bore remained open.

Read the entire story here.

(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: elaborate, mend, zebra)

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