Literature
Journey's End, Not That Person Anymore
Sylvia sat cross legged on the ground, picking at the grass, looking across the dying campfire at Malistaire. He sat eerily silent his back pressed against a large tree, brooding as he stared ambiently into the night sky. His features caught in the golden-red glow of the smoldering embers, in such a way that made him look near spectral, almost otherworldly.
On the ground sat a large leather pouch atop it four large fire shards, each almost the size and length of her hand. A fiery gold light flickered and danced within them, Sylvia and Malistaire gave a soft sigh.
They both knew what they signified, an end to a long journey. A journey neithe