The skyboats arrive with welcome tidings, finding the lost and vanished. Some are dead some surviving. All contribute to the cause.
They celebrate with sweet shittumlight vigils; breaking of bred tourniquets.
It means something else to them now. Hope. Bold to step out of the caves to reclaim a land lost to sand and strife.
Some refuse politely, they’ve been broken and will perish. This will not stay the messenger’s hands. They will be mended.
Beyond Ebla, Icarian halts his troops at a secluded once-port.
A boy points at a distant, desolate outcrop.”There.”
Roseroot.
The seed that refuses to die.
I challenge with "Wanton Endangerment."
"Every meeting is the beginning of a good-bye." Beginnings of the beginning
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