Ragor
By the third week since my sister was imprisoned, there were a lot of things amiss. I walk up the unfamiliar mansion steps that I'm kept in, and I remain inside the territory. I feel the tendrils of the cold air wafting inside the dark halls as I mull over what to do.
There has been no news ever since the Trial has been set. I have brought food and medicine to my ailing sister, and I have grown restless.
I wish I have your gift, I whisper to the moon.
Rogan told me that her gift is not a blessing nor a curse, but it is both. Still, I could list all the things that could happen if I only have them.
I gaze out of the wrought iron window. The glass shimmers in contact with the moonlight and is beautiful under its scrutiny. If I close my eyes,
